chapter 17 #2
“What do you want me to say?” She munched on a piece of vegetable tempura. “You sound like you’ve made up your mind.”
“No. I don’t sound like that, and you know it.”
A slow smile formed on her lips. “I’m just glad you do.” She sighed. “By the way, tomorrow I’ll have steak and potatoes.”
“You’re really going to make me cook for you.”
She patted her belly. “Absolutely. For us.”
My mind drifted to Wes. Being home had been a whirlwind for me.
I came here expecting to heal and I ended up entangled in a push-pull relationship with my ex-boyfriend.
“It feels like we’ve just been away from each other for a day, not sixteen years,” I mused.
“He thinks we can get it right this time.”
“What do you think?”
“I don’t want to get hurt again.”
“Sis, you said it yourself. He was a kid. So were you. Yes, he hurt you, but you both were young. Dealing with a love that was big, all-consuming. Some people never find it, and you experienced it as a teenager. Now you have the chance to feel it again. You’re both here. You’re both single.”
I nibbled on my thumbnail. “I cried so much for him. About him. I was that girl, curled up in a fetal position afraid to move on because that would make the heartbreak real. I wasn’t myself.”
She flashed a sad smile. “I know. I was there, remember?”
“I never want to feel that pain again. I never want to feel so weak again.”
“Albany, you’re not a sixteen-year-old girl anymore. You’re a strong woman.”
“Who lost everything. I just got a divorce.”
“From a man you didn’t really love like that,” she tossed back.
I fiddled with the edge of my throw. “What makes you say that?”
“Because you’ve never looked like you do now when talking about Darrell. That look in your eyes, the one you have now … Even though you’re trying to convince yourself that Wes is not the guy for you, that spark is unmistakable. You still love him.”
I squeezed my eyes shut as warmth spread through my body. “Sometimes I don’t think I ever stopped.”
“So why not give it a try. Maybe it will work out this time.”
“What if it doesn’t? Maybe I just need to start fresh, move out of Detroit. Away from the past.”
“You can’t move, Albany. What about your dreams?”
“I can run Keyes Investigations from anywhere.”
“What about being happy?” she asked.
“With Wes?” I stood up and gathered our empty plates. “Who says he can make me happy. The past between us is so wide and deep, what if we can’t cross the divide?”
Bri scooted off the chaise lounge and approached me. “Either way, you can’t just move around the country running from your feelings. Besides, I selfishly need you here. And you promised you’d help me with whatever I needed.”
I cracked a smile and hugged my friend. “And I meant it.”
“Good. Steak and potatoes tomorrow.”
Shoving her playfully, I shuffled to the kitchen. “Yeah, yeah.”
Clear blue skies and scorching temperatures ushered in the holiday.
Grandma had thought of everything, from personal fans to Stanley cups filled with water to keep it cold.
The food table was full of cultural Fourth of July fare—barbecued ribs, pulled pork, grilled and fried chicken, hamburgers, hot sausages, brats, coleslaw, potato salad, deviled eggs, baked beans, and so much dessert, I couldn’t figure out where to start first.
But I ended up where I always ended up—with a slice of pound cake topped with fruit and whipped cream. Yum.
When Bri and I arrived earlier, she’d dipped off to relax in the air conditioning, while I made my rounds. Yet, as I walked through the sea of people in the massive backyard, I noticed something peculiar.
Grandma had invited all her friends, the women she played poker with, her old colleagues, and some family. She’d also invited Ace, who’d brought his grandson along with his family. But the rest of the guests were my age and younger. Single men and women, mingling with each other. Odd.
Typically, these soirees consisted of smooth R & B blaring over the speakers, dancing, cards, and food. But it seemed like there were a lot of hookups going on. Men whispering in women’s ears, flirting with each other, while Grandma and her friends weaved through the crowd.
I took a bite of cake.
Shit, this is good.
Finishing it in two-point-two seconds, I made my way back over to the buffet table. This time, I grabbed a plateful of appetizers. As soon as I stuffed a deviled egg into my mouth, I felt a hand on my back.
“Still like to eat your dessert first?” Wes whispered against my ear.
Turning, I held my hand over my mouth as I finished chewing my food. Once I’d swallowed it, I took a few sips of lemonade. “It was so good.”
His gaze dropped to my plate. “I didn’t see the eggs.”
“Want one of mine?”
He leaned in and I popped one into his mouth. “Damn, this is good,” he muttered around the food. “I need to grab a plate.”
“We can share,” I suggested.
After I loaded up two plates with more delectable treats, we settled into a secluded spot near the pool. Sharing our food was something we used to do all the time. I never ate everything on my plate, so he usually ate his and mine.
Wes grabbed a beef rib. “How are you?”
“Good. You?”
“I decided to take a vacation,” he admitted. “Two weeks.”
“That’s a long time to be out of the office.”
“Right? I haven’t taken time off like this since I’ve been at the company.”
I ate some potato salad. “Then you deserve the time off.”
He frowned. “Where’s Bri? Hendrix said she was coming with you.”
“She’s inside. Air conditioning.”
“Ah.”
I eyed him curiously. “Can I ask you something?”
“What’s up?” He finished his bone and dropped it onto the plate. “You look concerned.”
“Don’t you think it’s weird that there are so many young people here? Do you know these people?”
He stared into the main area of the backyard. “A few of them.”
“Where did they come from?”
“Grandkids or kids of their poker friends.”
“Hm.”
“Why?”
“It’s odd,” I continued. “I mean, Grandma loves the Fourth, but she typically only invites close friends and family. It feels a little awkward.”
We chatted for a few minutes about an encounter I had near the buffet table with one of the older women.
She’d grilled me about my job, my activities, my life.
Then asked me who my grandmother was. Once I told her who I was, she’d quickly excused herself and made a beeline to the other side of the yard.
As if that wasn’t weird enough, I’d caught her whispering to another woman. Then they both stared at me.
“Maybe she felt bad for not knowing who you were,” he suggested. “It is Grandma Liv’s house. You’re her only granddaughter.”
I shrugged. “I guess you could be right. It just didn’t give me a good feeling.”
“Are you going to be Albany Keyes of Keyes Investigations all night?”
“What?” I laughed. “Are you making fun of me?”
“No.” He leaned closer. “I’d really like to have fun with you.”
A blush worked its way up my neck, and I averted my gaze. “Where have you been?” I ate some macaroni salad and groaned. “Before you answer that, remind me to grab a plate to go. Or two. This food is so good.”
“I got you.”
“Well?” I pressed.
“You said you needed space,” he answered. “I was giving it to you.”
“You took that literally, huh?”
He barked out a laugh and my heart cracked open. I loved the sound of his laughter. He didn’t do it much, but when he did, it was glorious. “I wanted to respect your boundaries.”
“Thank you for that.” I searched his eyes. “I appreciate it.”
“You know I’ll do anything for you.”
“I believe that.”
“I have to admit, though”—he took the plate off my lap and set it on the table next to him—“it was hard.” He tugged my chair forward, closer to him.
Swallowing, I whispered, “Why?”
“Because I missed you.”
My heart soared at his admission, and I ached to touch him. “You’re good. Different, but the same.”
“Is that a good thing?”
“It’s not bad.” I bit down on my lip. His eyes followed the movement. “We’re in public.”
“We are,” he agreed.
“And we should probably have a talk.”
“You know what else? Your mouth is so perfect, so ready to be kissed.”
Damn. “Again, we’re in public and we should discuss some things.”
“Like?”
“The space and time issue.”
“Okay?”
“So, I thought about it and if you’re open to taking it slow, I—”
He brushed the corner of my mouth with his thumb, and I gasped. “You have a little potato salad there.”
“Oh God.” I wiped my mouth with a napkin. “Did I really? That’s so … I’m mortified.”
“Just kidding.” He chuckled. “I just wanted an excuse to touch you.”
“You don’t need one,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Wesley?” Granny Joyce called from behind us.
I jerked away from him, balling up my used napkin and stuffing it into the small trashcan next to my chair.
A few seconds later, she strolled over to us, a wide smile on her face. “Hi, Albany.”
Standing, I gave her a hug. “Hi.”
The best part of this event was seeing her so relaxed. Instead of a suit, she wore a coral sleeveless jumpsuit. She’d paired the outfit with open-toed sandals and big shades. Her curls were wild. I loved seeing her happy.
“Are you enjoying yourself?” she asked me.
I sat back down. “I am.”
“Great.” She glanced at Wes. “Do you have a sec? I want to introduce you to someone.”
He looked at me, but I encouraged him to go with her. It would allow me time to get myself together for the discussion I knew we had to have. Also, it would give me a chance to weave through the crowds, eavesdrop on a few conversations. After all, I was still on duty.
Once they were out of earshot, I ventured over toward a group of ladies standing by the rose garden. I pretended to fiddle with my phone, but I was close enough to hear them.
“Olivia always puts on a great party,” one lady said. “That chicken was divine.”
Yes, it was.
“I love that she’s happy with Ace,” another woman said. “He’s perfect for her.”
“Perfect and fine,” someone muttered. “I wish I’d met him first.”
They laughed.
“Did you see your grandson talking to my granddaughter, Mavis?”
“I knew they’d hit it off.”
As the women continued their conversation, the pieces started to click together.
It appeared that the poker club was in the matchmaking business.
All of them seemed to be on a mission to marry their grandkids off.
Which made sense. According to Erica, Granny Joyce had given them an ultimatum to get married.
Scanning the backyard, I spotted Wes with Granny Joyce as she led him over to a group of women my age. She introduced him to one of them. Then, my blood ran cold.
Is she trying to hook him up with one of those heffas?
I closed my eyes as my mind conjured up different scenarios.
Wes trying to please Granny by dating that woman.
Wes falling in love at first sight with that woman.
Wes kissing that woman.
Wes …
“I just wish Joyce would go ahead and make her move,” one of the older ladies said, capturing my attention again. “She’s pulling all the strings in the background. I’m ready to shift our focus to other news.”
“It’ll be over soon enough, Margie.”
“I hope so. Shirley told me she met Liv’s granddaughter.”
My ears perked up. What the hell is going on here?
A new voice chimed in. “She’s a stunner. Saw her with Wesley a few minutes ago. They seemed remarkably close.”
“Well, Joyce is with him now. I believe she’s introducing him to Amber. I think they would make a good couple.”
“You’re just saying that because you want your granddaughter to be a Batchelor.”
My eyes panned to Wesley. Granny was no longer with him, but he was talking to the woman I assumed to be Amber. I assessed her. She was beautiful. Gorgeous natural hair, brown skin, long legs. Seemed like his type but also seemed familiar.
The woman laughed, placed her hand on Wes’s arm.
Oh, hell no, I need to nip this in the bud right now. Starting with that necessary conversation and ending with, hopefully, me sitting on his face.
I glanced at my phone and typed out a text: Meet me at the carriage house. On the roof. Thirty minutes.