Chapter Twenty-Five
Magic
Lincoln
After Hailey leaves us in the foyer, Ebony doesn’t move toward me.
She stands there, facing me, her feet rooted to the stark white marble floor, her chest rising and falling with each shallow breath.
She’s waiting, tear-filled eyes fixed on me, as if she’s expecting an explanation for my text and wondering why I’m here.
I see it in her eyes, though—she’s in her head, too afraid to draw conclusions on her own.
She told me she wants to be my wife, then asked me not to respond immediately, to give it some thought.
As if I ever needed time.
“You’re staring,” I say, taking a step toward her. “Are you surprised I’m here?”
A disbelieving laugh slips out of her, and she shrugs as if to say, Is this what we’re doing? Playing a guessing game? Put me out of my misery .
“I’m assuming you’re Hailey’s guest,” she says softly but impatiently. “You said that you were done thinking…”
“Mm-hmm. Hailey thought I should come get my woman.”
Ebony watches me, her bright hazel eyes searching mine as I take another step closer. “She said that?”
“Hey, that woman can be very convincing. When I told her I was respecting your request to give it time, she flat-out told me that no woman really wants a man to take his time.” I chuckle.
“She said no matter what advice I got from my guys, it was a test that I was clearly failing if I’d waited more than five seconds. ”
She laughs through her tears, throwing her head back and smiling to the sky. “Aw, what am I going to do with that woman?”
With long strides, I close the distance between us and cradle the soft curves of Ebony’s face.
“I’d say you should probably thank her,” I murmur, “the way I did, for helping me get out of my own way. For helping me understand what really matters.”
I lower my mouth to hers, but she pulls back, eyes wide.
“You still didn’t answer my question. What does ‘I’m done thinking’ mean, Linc? Can we talk about—”
Her words dissolve on my lips as I kiss her quiet, the weight of her questions fading into the background.
Everything falls away as she teases her tongue into my mouth, the kiss quickly growing urgent, her fingers flexing and pulsing over my chest. And in this moment, it’s just the two of us, our hearts beating in rhythm, our breaths mingling.
God , I want to tell her, to explain everything, but I can’t. Not yet.
It’s not time.
A few seconds pass before I break the kiss, lingering for a moment, our foreheads pressed together, letting the warmth of her skin against mine anchor me.
“Baby, I only gave you time because that’s what you asked for.
And I might’ve gotten some bad intel from Dom and Josiah, but the point is, I respected your request, and I will give you my answer—but I’ve got one of my own. ”
She closes her eyes, shaking her head. “I should’ve known you’d find a way to flip this around.”
“Not flip it around,” I correct her. “It’s just a small request. A teeny-tiny favor.” I pause for effect, savoring this moment, needing to watch her beautiful face react. “Dance with me first?”
In my head, it sounded smooth, GQ —nothing like a brotha laying his heart bare and asking his woman to dance. Right?
Wrong.
Ebony blinks repeatedly. “You want to dance ?”
“I do. So is that a yes or a no?”
Her lips part as if she wants to protest, but then she seems to think better of it. Instead, she laughs an infectious laugh that I feel all over my skin.
“Uh, okay.” I offer my hand to her. “I’m dead serious.”
“I know .” She tilts her head, arching an eyebrow. Then she snorts. “Lincoln Bridges, I know a lot can change over the years, and far be it from me to judge, but last I checked, the only dance you knew was the Electric Slide.”
A laugh rises from deep in my chest. “Oh, wow. Okay.” My cheeks heat as I stumble back, arms stretched wide. In so many words, I’m saying, What you see is what you get. This is what you’ll be signing up for .
“Oh my God, put your arms down.” She’s beaming.
“What?”
“Please don’t be one of those guys who throws his arms out like he’s greeting his imaginary audience.” She tries to pull my arms to my sides, but I wrap them around her instead, pulling her flush to me, smiling into another kiss.
My body hums with anticipation.
But then the deejay slows the music, calling out for “the lovebirds.”
“That’s us,” I say.
“No, it’s for the bride and groom,” Ebony protests.
But I assure her, after pressing one more kiss to her lips, “Baby, no. Trust me,” before I take her hand in mine, guiding her to the grand ballroom, through the crowd, undeterred in my mission.
An ease settles in my limbs as I twirl the love of my life in my arms beneath the soft, glittering lights of the crystal chandelier.
It’s not about the familiar faces of Ellswood scattered around us, their eyes trained on us, the low hum of their whispers floating on a cloud of a thousand judgments of Ebony and me.
No, it’s so much more.
“Look at me, baby,” I say, blocking out all the faces, all the noise, as I pull in a deep breath. “It’s just you and me, okay? No one else matters.”
She nods solemnly.
And with Maxwell’s smooth falsetto crooning “Whenever Wherever Whatever” in the background, I nudge up her chin and ask, “Would it be okay if I told you a story?”
With her permission, I tell her about the reading I’ve been doing—the tale of Amara and Elijah, who, amidst dust and dreams, built Madison Manor.
Her, with the vision and grand design to fill the walls with life, and him, with the rough hands and heart to tirelessly work until he saw her dream through.
“Under the glow of candlelight, they laid every brick with care, built every room with their growing love.”
Ebony gives me her rapt attention, her focus entirely on me as we sway to the tender ballad.
“As the final touches were added, there was only the grand crystal chandelier, a family heirloom, made in the likeness of the Baccarat chandeliers Amara’s grandmother had told her stories of.”
“Oh my goodness.” Ebony’s mouth is on the wood-slatted floor, her eyes saucer-wide. “No!”
I give a single nod. “Mm-hmm.”
“I’ve never heard this part of the legend. Go on.”
“Elijah pulled Amara close…” I tilt my head, squeezing Ebony to me. “They danced, slow and easy, beneath its warm, sparkling light. Their laughter filled the air as the manor seemed to breathe with them, sighing with the love they’d built.”
She swallows hard, still shaking her head. “I love this so much.”
“Legend has it, anyone who dances beneath that crystal chandelier”—at the same time, we both look up, then deflate into laughter—“with their true love will be bound together forever, hearts as one, love eternal. But…”
A gasp pushes past Ebony’s lips. “But?”
“Okay, hear me out, because I’ve got a theory.” I tip my head to either side. “So, couples were coming to Madison Manor, scrambling to get under the chandelier with their boyfriends, new boos, situationships, whatever.”
Ebony winds her hand in circles, signaling for me to wrap up the editorializing.
“My point is, two people Electric Slide and share a peck under this chandelier thinking they’ll find the same magic that Amara and Elijah found, right?”
“Mm-hmm.” She rolls her eyes playfully.
“Well, I feel like they’ve forgotten the most important part.” I shrug, hoping it’s obvious to my baby, too. “They built this place. There was construction going on—by candlelight, no less. They made this place their own, shedding blood, tears, and sweat inside these walls.”
The music slows.
I see the exact moment the dots start connecting.
“Like us,” Ebony says, piecing it all together.
“Yes!” I throw my head back, blowing out a breath, vindicated. “Baby, yes . We didn’t just set foot into this manor, dance a stilted two-step, kiss for five seconds, and keep it moving. We re built this place to welcome others. You filled it with life.”
She reaches back, removing my hand from her waist to place it over her heart. “These rough hands worked to bring my vision to life.”
I nod repeatedly, overcome with joy.
My baby gets it.
“Madison Manor was Elijah’s gift to Amara.” I brush a chaste kiss over Ebony’s lips. “I mean, they did it all together, but he worked like crazy to give her the dream. So…”
“So…” Ebony prompts me, her eyes narrowed.
And that’s when I realize the music… Yeah, it’s not slow for the lovebirds.
Chancing a glance around the ballroom, I notice almost everyone is surrounding the stunning, six-tiered, semi-sculptural buttercream wonder. Almost everyone .
“Um, baby?”
Ebony’s brow crinkles. Then she slowly follows my line of vision to a fuming, diabolical lady in black and her disgraced son.
“Oh, don’t worry about her,” Ebony says, then laughs. “She won’t be bothering us anymore.”
“She won’t?”
The funny thing is, I was so focused on my plan when I led her into the ballroom that I didn’t even notice Cornelia and Julian.
Or Nelly, holding them back. I didn’t actually see who was looking at us.
I just figured all eyes would be on us because…
well, because I’m the man who’s stepping into the groom’s brother’s shoes.
Also, Ebony’s scheduled Divorcétante post, calling on all Julian’s mistresses to come forward and join a support group, might have gone live during the ceremony.
But now, it might be best to just dash.
I grab her hand, taking advantage of the cake-cutting distraction, and pull her out of the ballroom. We race down the hall, and I’m so eager to reach the indoor garden just ahead.
“Lord, I swear Cornelia’s eyes were about to shoot laser beams, the way she was glaring at us.” She’s breathless and beautiful, still giggling. “So, what’s the plan? I’ve got to stick around until the sparkler send-off, but we can definitely hide out in here.”