Chapter 29
Bex
“ Y ou weren’t kidding. This takes a lot of fucking work to put on.” Britney is grumbling as she replaces a tray of crudites on the banquet table laden with appetizers.
Laughing, I say, “You’re not even doing anything. There are caterers for that.”
Britney gives me one of her ditzy smiles, like she’s playing dumb. “Just keeping myself occupied.”
I give her a look. “You wouldn’t happen to be… avoiding someone, by any chance? Hm?”
“Puh-lease,” Britney says, smirking. Fine, she can keep her secrets for now. I’m too busy buzzing with excitement today to go down that rabbit hole.
“Honestly, though, it’s worth it. Just look at the kids,” I say, gesturing to the temporary gallery wall running down the center of the youth center gymnasium.
My kids stand proudly in front of their favorite photographs. All framed, courtesy of a donation from Neon Nights Media. A lot of people mill about, some sipping mocktails from the makeshift bar in the corner where Christian is slinging drinks. The food, the space, the decor—all of this provided as a donation from Blackwood Enterprises.
Aaron pulled through, reaching out to his local network, enticing them to attend the youth photography show. I have lost track of how many people I’ve spoken with this afternoon, people who had no idea there was a youth center in this area and how under-funded it truly was. I can only pray these conversations will lead to donations and real, meaningful change for the youth center. Change that will translate directly into the lives of these kids.
“Mmm,” Britney muses. “I’m gonna go find Ally and see if she’s met any hot guys.”
Laughing, I say, “Good luck, babe.”
“And what does Britney need luck for?” Corey asks, sidling up to my side and placing a kiss on my cheek.
“You don’t wanna know,” I mumble, turning to cup his jaw, loving the feel of his short beard beneath my fingers. I press my lips to his for a chaste kiss.
“Ugh, Ms. B, really?”
Pulling back from Corey, I peek at the person standing behind him.
“Oh, I’m so sorry to make you uncomfortable, Mitchell,” I tease. “Now you know how I felt last week when your mouth was connected to Priya’s during our entire session.”
His cheeks flush and he shrugs. “Yeah, I guess. I’m sorry. ”
Corey nudges Mitchell, hard enough to knock the kid off balance. “Corey,” I chastise.
“He has something to say to you,” Corey says, giving a guilty shrug. “I’ll… be over by the bar with Christian.”
Mitchell steps a bit closer, eyes on the floor, and mumbles something. “Sorry, I didn’t catch that.”
He takes a deep breath, steeling himself with courage, and looks me in the eye. “I’m really sorry about stealing that stuff,” he says. “And breaking in. And just… yeah, I’m sorry about all of it.”
Tilting my head, I give his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “I know you are, Mitchell. It’s ok—”
“It’s not.” He shakes his head as tears gather in his eyes. “It’s not okay. You’re like, the only good person I know in my life, besides my sisters. You trusted me, and I fucked it up.”
My heart stutters at his words, but I swallow hard and simply say, “Language.”
We look at each other for a beat, then we both break into laughs.
Taking a breath, I say, “Sometimes we do things that are wrong to make other things right. It’s not an excuse, not for this or in life, generally… But you meant well, Mitchell. And you know that you can always hang at the youth center whenever you need. Even if there’s no session, just text me, okay?”
Mitchell shakes his head, disappointment clouding his features. “I just turned eighteen, Ms. B. You know the rules.”
Yeah, the rule that when you turn eighteen, you’re suddenly too old to be allowed at the youth center. “Mitch—”
“What if you got a job, instead?”
I whip my head around to see Aaron lingering near the appetizer table. Mitchell’s eyes go wide as he looks between me and Aaron. “You’re… you’re—”
“Aaron Blackwood,” he says, stepping forward, his hand outstretched. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Mitchell.”
There’s fear in Mitchell’s eyes now, as he shakes Aaron’s hand and looks to me for help. I shrug, completely unaware of Aaron’s plans.
“Are you planning on going to college?” Aaron asks.
Mitchell shakes his head. “Nah. I’m barely gonna graduate high school. Besides, no one in my family has ever been to college.”
Aaron nods. “Not a problem. I have an internship available at the casino. It’ll be back office stuff, nothing on the floor because you’re not twenty-one. It’ll probably be really boring shit, but it’ll give you something to do. And a paycheck.”
A powerful wave of emotion hits me when the look on Mitchell’s face evolves from uncertain to determined. I didn’t know Aaron very well until I got with Corey, because he intentionally flies under the radar and plays Mr. Mysterious to the staff and guests. But this man? He’s got integrity and compassion—something I’ve personally been witness to, beyond this moment with Mitchell.
Mitchell nods eagerly. “I would love that, man. I mean, sir. Mr. Blackwood. Please. And thank you.”
Aaron hands him his business card, which Mitchell pockets, promising to call him next week about coming to fill out paperwork. Mitchell darts away after, as if worried Aaron might change his mind.
“That was… really amazing of you, Aaron,” I say, feeling the pressure of grateful tears behind my eyes .
He shrugs. “I remember what that felt like,” he says quietly, absently spinning a ring on his thumb. “I wish someone had been there for me when I was at the end of my rope.”
Before I can say anything further, Corey pops up, handing me a mocktail.
“Look, I don’t know how he does it, but Christian’s mocktails are better than his cocktails,” Corey murmurs, taking a sip of his drink.
“Can’t say he’s not creative,” Aaron says absently, eyes roaming rapidly over the crowds milling around the gallery wall.
“Are you looking for someone?” I ask him, curiosity churning as I start piecing together a personal puzzle.
“Hm? No, not at all,” Aaron says, shoving his hands into his pockets.
Again , I’m interrupted from prying further when Christian walks up to our little group.
“Nice job on the mocktails, man,” Corey says, clinking his glass with Christian’s.
“Yeah, I guess,” Christian says. “Some of the flavor is really missing without the alcohol—”
“It’s a youth center, Christian,” I interrupt.
He shrugs. “Whatever. People are eating, er, drinking this shit up. How much are the photographs going for, by the way?”
I stare at him, taking in the details of this clueless man. His shaggy hair is pulled back into a man-bun that he’s entirely too old to be sporting, and, in the light of day, the scar on his cheek is far more visible.
“It’s just a show, Christian. None of this is for sale.” I giggle at his ignorance.
“Why the fuck not?” He raises his hand and points at one of Mitchell’s photographs on the wall across from us. It’s an abstract picture Mitchell had taken of Priya, something I’m sure he considered personal—though pretty enough to display in the show. “That picture is gorgeous. I’d pay at least $500 for that.”
My brows shoot up as I say, “Christian, that’s not—”
“Did he say $500? Sold, sir. If you want to just come over here!” Mitchell waves Christian over, and I shake my head in disbelief.
Corey puts his drink down on the appetizer table and wraps his arm around me, drawing my focus away from whatever illicit photography deal is going on between Mitchell and Christian.
“Let him buy the kid’s art,” Corey murmurs against my lips. “Maybe now he won’t resort to stealing stuff.”
“Hey,” I say, giving him a weak punch to his chest. “Aaron just offered Mitchell an internship.”
“I know,” Corey says. “He asked me about it last week, if it would be okay. I figured it would make you happy.”
“Oh, Corey,” I say into his chest, trying to hide my happy tears. “You didn’t have to do that.”
He slips his fingers under my chin and forces me to look up at him. “You have no idea what I’d do for the woman I love, Bex.”
My breath hitches in my throat. “What did you say?”
“I fucking love you, Bex. The way you make me feel, like I can do anything and be who I want to be?” He brushes my hair off my face and wipes a stray tear from my cheek with his thumb. “I was immediately infatuated with you, and that, well, it grew beyond measure. Once I started falling for you, Bex, I couldn’t stop. I wouldn’t stop. I never want to not f eel this way.”
“Corey, I—”
“Shhh,” he whispers. “I’m not saying this so you say it back. In fact, if you do happen to feel the same, I’d much rather hear you say it later tonight. In bed.” I can’t help the laugh that bubbles up in my chest .
“Perhaps I’ll scream it?” I taunt.
“Bex, don’t make me drag you home right this minute,” Corey warns.
“Whatever for, sir?”
Corey growls, quickly claiming my lips with his before taking my hand and delivering on his promise to drag me home.