Chapter -4-
Mom
Denz is fine.
He’s pacing outside the restaurant. His parents are arriving in nineteen minutes. To meet his new boyfriend, who’s not here . Who hasn’t replied to Denz’s six where are you??? texts. Who agreed to meet Denz thirty minutes before their reservation for one last run-through of their plan.
But it’s fine.
Early January air bites at his exposed ears. Each time a new rideshare pulls up and it’s not Jamie climbing out of the back seat, his anxiety spikes.
He’s not backing out, Denz mentally chants. The writing on the empty sidewalk in front of him says otherwise. He calls one more time.
“Jamie Noah Peters,” he hisses at the voicemail, “when I see you, I’m gonna personally feed your peanut-butter-covered balls on a silver platter to Pompom, Ms. Philips from across the hall’s cursed terrier, and—”
“Denz?”
His spine tenses. He struggles to end the call, his hand shaking. Even with the low, almost unrecognizable accent, Denz knows who’s behind him.
He counts to five before turning.
Fading sunlight falls over Braylon’s short, tight curls like a tangerine crown. Pink kisses the apples of his cheeks. His single-breasted overcoat is open, the two top buttons of his white oxford undone to reveal a distracting flash of honey-brown collarbone.
“’Ello,” Braylon says first, confusion pinching the corners of his eyes.
“What’re you doing here?” Denz manages.
“I work nearby.” Braylon gestures behind him. “And you?”
I live here, Denz almost snaps. In America. Where you left me, remember?
“I’m—”
He looks at his phone, swearing under his breath. The dinner . His mind races for the best way to tell his parents Jamie’s in a coma.
Braylon edges closer. “I’m glad I ran into you.”
“Again?”
Braylon ignores Denz’s sharp tone. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”
Jesus, do they have to do this now? Denz still feels awful for not saying anything about Braylon’s dad. He was caught off guard, which isn’t a real excuse. It’s complicated. He really liked Emmanuel, all the way up until he encouraged Braylon to break up with Denz.
His phone chimes with another update from his mom:
10 minutes away!
“Thing is”—Braylon rubs the back of his neck in that nervous way Denz remembers—“I’m doing quite well at my job. It’s a nonprofit. I love it there. But it’d help if we could get more support from… prominent figures.”
“Uh-huh.”
It’s not that Denz is ignoring Braylon’s rambling. He’s multi tasking. Studying every new car that pulls up curbside, anticipating his parents’ arrival.
“Sorry, are you listening?” Braylon asks. “I wanted to ask you something.”
“Well, ask then.”
“That’s what I was doing.”
“No,” corrects Denz, finally making eye contact, “you were giving me the Wikipedia version. Just say it.”
Nostrils flaring, Braylon half snarls, “Your family’s company has done loads of events with the mayor. I need help reaching her. For a one-on-one chat. Our organization would benefit immensely from her public support.”
A new text from Leena: We’re on the street, but Friday night traffic!
Despite the cold, Denz’s face is on fire. Still nothing from Jamie. Braylon’s talking again, but all Denz can hear is his mom’s lecture after she discovers he lied about having a boyfriend and the whoosh of a new email from his dad ending Denz’s CEO chances before he’s even back in the car.
“Denz?” Braylon says.
Down the street, a sleek black SUV nudges its way closer. Denz’s skin prickles. It’s his parents.
“Just email the company receptionist,” he says dismissively. “She’ll connect you—”
“I’d rather it be you.”
Denz falters. “Me?”
“Who makes the introduction with the mayor,” Braylon says. “You know me best, so.”
Denz has no time to tell Braylon how wrong he is. He doesn’t know him anymore. The SUV is one traffic light away. He’s still without a solution to the whole missing-boyfriend clusterfuck he’s created. No one except for—
His head snaps back to Braylon. No, he can’t. There has to be another option, like running headfirst into traffic.
The SUV pulls up to the curb.
“Fine.” Denz grabs Braylon by the arms— When did his biceps get so thick?
— maneuvering him until they’re standing side by side.
While the driver opens the back door for Leena, Denz whispers, flustered, “I’ll introduce you to the mayor.
Whatever. Right now, I need you to smile and pretend to be my boyfriend. ”
“Pretend to be your what ?”
“Have dinner with my parents and me,” Denz says through a tight grin. His mom steps onto the pavement in a chic red Salvatore Ferragamo coat, Kenneth following in the same suit he wore to the office. “Act like we’re a happy couple.”
“You’re mad if you think I—”
“Please.”
He flashes wide, desperate eyes. Something in Braylon’s stubborn resolve fades. He forces out a painfully big smile.
“Also,” Denz adds quietly as his parents give the driver final instructions, “they obviously hate you for… you know. So, um, make a good impression.”
“Are you fu—”
“Mom!” Denz allows himself to be yanked into a lung-rupturing hug. “Missed you too.”
“Is that why you ignored my calls and texts?”
Leena Carter may be inches shorter than Denz, but her no-bullshit eyebrow arch makes him feel infant-sized.
They share similar features: rich brown skin, sharp eyes, a hint of dimples in their smiles.
But everything about her is more pronounced, including her sidelong look as he scrambles to explain himself.
“Don’t they say something about absence and the heart growing fonder?” he stammers.
Next to her, Kenneth clears his throat. “Son, what’s going on?”
His stare pointedly shifts to Braylon. Leena’s does too. “Wait, where’s your—What is this?”
Denz inhales deeply. So, this is happening . “Mom. Dad.” He inches closer to Braylon. “This is the boyfriend I mentioned.”
Kenneth stiffens as Leena chokes out, “Your boyfriend is… Bray?”
“It’s Braylon, ” Denz gently corrects before Braylon can. “He goes by his full name now.”
“And he’s back?” Leena blinks like she’s involuntarily been dropped into a paranormal reality show. “In America ?”
“Yes,” Denz says. His dad’s still quiet.
“And you’re together—” Leena frowns. “—again? With him?”
“Correct.”
“I… wow.”
Denz fights off a grimace. With Jamie, he was better prepared.
He’d mapped out the hand-holding and how he was going to laugh when Jamie revealed that watching When Harry Met Sally one too many times led to the inevitable between them and his mom’s shock was going to be comical.
His dad’s eyes weren’t going to be so narrowed.
This long stretch of awkwardness between them wasn’t going to exist.
But here it is.
To his surprise, Braylon makes the first move. “Mrs. Carter, it’s lovely to see you again,” he says, waiting for consent before shaking her hand. “Sorry it’s been a bit.”
“Years,” Leena clarifies.
Braylon’s smile brightens. “Denz is right. Absence does make the heart grow fonder.” His eyes are almost soft, affectionate when they land on Denz. “I’m thankful for another shot to prove I’m worthy.”
Something twists in Denz’s belly. He’s marginally impressed.
Braylon turns back. “I’d love to get reacquainted over dinner.”
A beat. Kenneth tilts his head. Denz knows that look. He’s searching for flaws, deciding whether Braylon’s worth his time.
Denz is preparing for the worst when there’s a shift between their hips. Braylon’s cool knuckles brush against his. His hand clasps Denz’s. Immediately, muscle memory takes over. Denz’s fingers tangle with Braylon’s, warm palms kissing in the crisp night air.
It’s not weird like it was with Jamie. In fact, it’s irritatingly normal. Denz wants to snatch his hand back.
“Mr. Carter,” Braylon says, “would that be okay with you?”
Kenneth’s brow knits together. His eyes don’t leave their hands. Eventually, he folds an arm around Leena’s shivering shoulders and says, “Sure. I could use a drink.”
“Or the whole bottle,” Leena mumbles.
His parents lead the way toward the restaurant’s doors. It’s not a Welcome home . An I trust you’re as serious about my son as he is about being the future leader of my company . But it’s close enough.
Kingfisher & Redbud is swimming in lush charm.
All wood and stone décor. The air soaked in the lingering scent of aged wine and fresh ingredients and smoked meats.
Luxurious renditions of trademark Southern cuisine fill the menu.
From his parents’ favorite corner booth, Denz tries to find anything to take his focus off the man sitting next to him.
God, why did he do this to himself?
At least Braylon’s trying. He asks Leena’s opinion on appetizers. Draws her into a conversation about her dress. He’s unbothered when Kenneth’s not as responsive. Braylon smiles easily, moving on to the next topic.
Colin, their waiter, arrives with a whiskey neat for Kenneth and rosé for Leena. The chef’s already searing their usual meals: Kenneth’s favorite cut of steak and Leena’s chili-rubbed chicken.
“And for you, Mr. Denzel?”
“The gourmet burger,” Denz says. He adds a nonalcoholic fizzy lemonade, though he knows he’ll need something stronger by the end of the night. Too bad he’s driving.
Colin pivots to Braylon. “For you, sir?”
Braylon’s eyes scan the menu again. An idea hits Denz. Something he planned with Jamie. “Start him with the mixed greens salad. Light vinaigrette,” he tells Colin.
“Uh…” Braylon tries.
“Grilled chicken for his entrée. Louisiana rice.” Denz grins at his parents. Knowing his boyfriend’s order will undoubtedly prove their relationship is serious.
“Excellent choices,” Colin says.
“Actually,” Braylon says before Colin can leave, “I have some changes.”
Denz chokes on his water. “Um. What?”
In his periphery, Kenneth frowns. “I’ll have the grilled Angus strip,” Braylon says, his gaze flitting from Denz to Colin. “Medium well, please. No salad. Instead, an order of the salt-and-vinegar chips—sorry, the fries. Thank you.”
“No problem.” Colin disappears.