33. Cory
Chapter thirty-three
Cory
I owe Noah a nice bottle of whiskey for clearing out the riffraff. Denise and I need to talk and there's no way I could do it with my knucklehead brothers around. Even now, with her standing in front of me like a goddess of seduction in form-fitting jeans and a red shirt with a plunging neckline, worrying her lip between her teeth, I still wonder if I have the nerve.
What if Tiffany and Maya got it wrong, and she's doing just fine without me? What do I have to offer her now that I'm unemployed and living off my savings? What if she's pissed I ambushed her on her big day? Should I have brought flowers on the off chance we'd bump into one another?
I run countless simulations in my head. Fuck! This isn't some stock or future where I can research and run the numbers. It's messy . But isn't that part of what makes it beautiful?
"I'm sorry," she whispers, stepping closer. Almost close enough to touch. "I was wrong to push you away."
I pull her into me because I can't not touch her. Not anymore. It's been torture. She doesn't resist, and the vice that's been gripping my heart for months eases. I press my forehead against hers.
"I know why you did it," I answer. She laughs softly.
"You do? Well, that's funny, because I didn't even know until you'd been gone for weeks and Dr. Jamison forced me to take a long, hard look in the mirror."
"Dr. Jamison?" I ask.
"My shrink. I started seeing her a few years after Andre…" She trails off. "She's pretty great, actually. I know I drive her crazy, blaming every one and every thing but myself for my problems."
I shake my head. Our foreheads are still touching, and a few of her braids fall into my face.
"You aren't to blame. Your parents—"
"Are real pieces of shit," she interrupts. "I know. But what they did to me didn't give me the right to take it out on everyone else in my life. I mean, you were right there the whole time. All I could see was you leaving me. It seemed inevitable. I'd fuck everything up eventually and then you'd leave."
I grab her by the shoulders, pulling her flush against me.
"You will fuck up, D," I say. She tries to pull away, but I tighten my hold. "You'll fuck up and so will I. I didn't ask you to be with me because I thought you'd never make mistakes. That you'd be on your best behavior, roleplaying some rom-com you saw with your girlfriends. You only think that because of what your parents did, pretending to live in that damn wedding portrait until things got too hard."
A quiet sob leaves her, and I can feel the dampness where she's leaning against my chest.
"In reality, relationships aren't perfect. They're just a commitment to love each other through the good days and the bad . I'm certainly no expert, but I have seen my parents together for decades. They fought plenty over the years. They even almost got divorced when my dad tried to force Noah into law school."
"Mama and Papa Park almost got divorced?" she gasps. I can't help but chuckle.
"Mom would definitely love that you call her that. And yes. They almost divorced. They even sat us all down to break the news and talk about the logistics of Dad moving out. In the end, after marriage counseling and several nights of deep conversation, they called it off. They chose their life together and compromise over hurt feelings and pride. I finally feel like I understand why."
Denise looks up at me with a smirk, though her eyes are still glassy with tears.
"So being with me is just a compromise?"
I roll my eyes.
"No, silly girl. Being with you is a choice. And one I choose even when you drive me crazy. Even when you push me away. Even when you squeeze the toothpaste from the middle of the tube like a heathen. Because I l—"
I catch myself before the words escape, but her eyes snap to mine.
"Because you love me?"
It's no use. I've held back saying it for months, but the words won't stay locked away a second more.
"Yes," I admit. "Because I love you. I have for some time."
I brace myself. This is the moment of truth. If we do this for real, everything has to be out in the open. No more hiding.
"Good." She leans up on her tippy toes and plants a kiss on my lips. "Because I love you too. And I have for some time."
I look into her eyes, searching for any hesitation. There is none; only her love shining through watery eyes. I lift her up by the ass and spin her around, letting out a triumphant whoop.
"Cory Park! Put me down this instant," she chides, though she's laughing the whole time.
"Is it safe to come back?" Maya asks from several feet away. We both turn to her and Denise nods.
"Yes. It's safe," she answers.
"And y'all are done being miserable? You're back together?" Tiffany asks, her hands on her hips.
Denise and I both grin.
"Yes," I reply. "We're back together."
"Thank God!" Noah shouts, clapping me on the back. "Now you can stop moping around. Between you and Damon, I worried both my brothers had lost it."
"Shut up!" Damon hisses between clenched teeth. He looks nervously at Denise's model friend, Kendra, like he's worried she'll get the wrong idea. Hmmm. What's going on there?
The model in question smiles, a gleam in her eye.
"Denise, girl. Is your life always such a soap opera?"
D giggles and blushes, and her happiness warms me to my core. I squeeze her ass again, loving the feel of her in my palms. Don't ever leave me again, love.
"Hardly," Denise says with a rueful smile. "But before we go paint the town red, I wanted to make official introductions." Denise gestures between the group and Kendra. "Everyone, this is Kendra. She'll be joining us for celebrations and libations.
"Kendra, these are my girls, Maya and Tiffany. That's Adam, Maya's husband. Those two are Noah and Damon, Adam's brothers. And this," she moves my hand to circle her waist, "is my boyfriend , Cory. He's another one of Adam's brothers."
Back to boyfriend already? I feel so high, I could fly home. I know I'm grinning like a fool, but I don't care.
"Nice to meet everyone," Kendra replies. "Thanks for letting me crash your after-party."
"Of course!" Damon says, the color rising in his cheeks. "The more the merrier."
Oh yeah. Something's definitely going on there.
As we head out of the near empty venue, Denise leans in close to whisper in my ear.
"Always squeezing from the bottom of the toothpaste tube is something serial killers do."