CHAPTER NINETEEN
TESSA
Mercy: How did the engagement brunch go?
Me: I’ve been exiled.
Mercy: That sounds ominous. What issue could they have found with you at a potluck? Did something happen with Hunter?
Me: Not exactly. A certain Noire showed up.
My phone buzzes in my hand, so I promptly send it to voicemail.
Mercy: You do not drop that kind of information and refuse my call.
Me: I can’t talk. He’ll be back any minute.
Mercy: YOU’RE WITH HIM NOW?
My phone vibrates again, and again, I ignore it.
Mercy: I know where you live. Or are you here?
She wouldn’t dare make good on a threat to chase me down, but I appreciate her tenacity, so I return her call.
Her greeting is frenzied. “Vomit as many details as you can before he gets back.”
“That’s not really my style, which you knew when you signed on to be my friend.” I lower my voice as my gaze darts to all the doors, assuring I’m still alone. “But I have a question. All I want to know is, how bad is this? In a heated moment, he referred to me as his queen—”
“Shut the hell up,” she spits, not assuaging my nerves at all. “Okay, okay, let’s back up before I share my thoughts on that. Are you feeling something?”
“Uh …” I stall, overwhelmed by the truth. “I have felt a spectrum of emotions today, ranging from manic outrage to a blissed-out stupor. And your brother-in-law has been responsible for ninety percent of that.”
“That sounds … about right. Anything involving the heart?” she probes.
“It’s Maddox, so … I mean, we both know how he is. He’s an insatiable flirt with a line of women wrapped around the city, and …” My reasoning withers because all the other negative things I’d ordinarily offer seem muddled after the last couple of weeks.
“I hear what you’re saying,” she begins, caution lacing every syllable. “It’s just … he’s also really sweet, and this all seems different.”
He acts like it is, but maybe he’s just swept up. We’ve had a lot of foreplay with the years of arguing and sexual tension, so it’s bound to feel explosive. What happens when things calm down? Why do I even care? This is impossible.
I lie down in a lounge chair and tilt my head back, staring at the night sky as my heart thunders in my chest. “It’s such a mess, Mercy. The walls are closing in on me, and I’m outside.”
She’s quiet for a minute, but finally, as the tinkling of the pool fountains splashing on the other side of the roof blend with the distant cacophony of the bustling French Quarter, she gathers her thoughts.
“I’m going to take that as a yes to your heart being involved.
But I’m guessing that just screws everything up worse.
I’m sure it feels like choosing your family or …
this place. The good news is, you’ll probably get some space to make decisions because Rena is due to have those babies any day now, and it will be chaos around here. ”
“That’s true,” I breathe, steadying my heart rate and concentrating on the untainted scents of New Orleans. At this elevation, the city’s stench is absent. No traffic or urine or pot. It’s all magnolia and cypress, Creole and music, as if I could smell the deep bluesy notes of a saxophone serenade.
“And if you need me to bust in wherever you are, I’ve got no problem with that,” she goes on. “Since you’re outside, I’m guessing you’re here, which is as monumental as the queen moniker, but at least that means you have backup close. One text, and I’ll be there.”
“I know.”
“Good,” she practically coos, like she’s talking me off the ledge, and maybe she is.
“But if you want me to tell you that you’re right to avoid this or that none of it translates to how serious Maddox must be about you, I can’t.
I know it’s hard for you to choose happiness if you think it robs someone else of it.
But things with your mom and sisters have been rocky for so long.
You deserve to have someone take care of you and lose their mind over you. ”
“It’s not that simple,” I counter because it’s so much more convoluted than the rift this causes with my family, which is enough by itself. But he’s the penthouse, and I’m the employee. And my life is in his hands. It’s a power imbalance.
“Maybe not,” she concedes. “But I understand that too. Still, Ryker might be the only one currently attached, but I’m willing to bet that all the Noire men are like him.
Giant redwood trees. Sexy, sturdy, and hard to knock down, but when someone finally strikes them just right, they fall in a catastrophic way. ”
“I’ve gotta go,” is my only response. I hang up when I hear Maddox’s voice outside the door.
And as I ruminate on Mercy’s final sentiment, all I can wonder is what it means that, while I know anything more than tonight is a terrible idea for countless reasons, part of me is desperate to be flattened by Maddox Noire falling.