chapter 18
Wesley
Meet me at the carriage house. On the roof. Thirty minutes.
I stared at the message for a moment. My thoughts swirled with possibilities.
I wasn’t sure what had happened, but it felt like we’d turned a page in the long story of our life.
Earlier, she’d signaled that she was open to me, to us.
Considering our last several interactions, it could go either way.
The problem with letting her set the pace, though, was that I’d essentially given up control of the situation.
Which was incredibly uncomfortable. Powerless was an emotional state I’d worked hard to avoid.
After my father’s death, I felt far too open, too vulnerable to be effective in anything. That feeling lasted for years.
Despite my desire to move forward with Albany, I was very aware of my precarious situation.
At any given moment, I found myself simultaneously reaching for her, dreaming about her, and dreading the moment she finally walked away from me for good.
Walking away from her wasn’t an option, though.
As much as I wanted her to take the chance, if she decided the risk was too big for her to take, I had no choice but to accept it.
I deserve it.
Fucked-up father and family issues aside, I’d treated her horribly.
Yes, I was young, but there was no one to blame but me.
I’d hurt her at a time in her life when she needed me to speak life to her, to love her unconditionally.
The way she’d always done for me. She’d given me a gift—freely, with no hesitation.
She’d trusted me with her heart, and I squandered it.
I read her message again and made the decision to hope for the best and prepare for the worst. Ideally, it was the opening I needed to close the deal, to make her mine. Forever.
“This is awkward.”
My gaze flickered to the woman standing next to me. I’d been so consumed with my thoughts, I completely forgot she was standing there.
“I’m sorry,” I grumbled.
Imagine my surprise when the person Granny wanted me to meet was the last woman I’d had sex with, pre-Albany’s return. The night before the anniversary of my father’s death. And just like then, I couldn’t seem to remember her name.
“Amber,” she said, sensing my dilemma.
“Yeah. It’s good to see you.”
Albany emerged from the house, arm in arm with Bri. The two of them made a beeline for the food.
As always, she was the perfect combination of classic and sexy, sophisticated and soft.
She wore a flowy, pink floral dress and high-heeled sandals.
Her skin glowed under the hot sun and her hair was blown straight.
I looked her up and down, taking in every inch of her body from her part in the middle of her hair to her feet.
Beautiful.
“Let me guess”—Amber leaned closer, her voice low—“Albany?”
Frowning, I glanced at her. “What?”
“The woman you’re staring at.” She pointed toward the buffet table. “Is she the Albany?”
Yeah … I’m an asshole. Calling another woman by my exgirlfriend’s name. There was really no excuse. I scratched the side of my face. “I’m sorry about that,” I muttered.
She waved me off. “No worries. Glad to see that you are still in touch with her.”
“What do you mean?”
Shrugging, she explained, “You were sharing a plate of food with her.”
A smile tugged at my lips. I remembered her being feisty. It’s what attracted me to her in the first place. If there was no Albany, there might’ve been an Amber in my life. “You saw that, huh?”
“And I see you. You can’t stop watching her.”
Amber wasn’t wrong. I was completely transfixed with the woman who’d captured my heart with a book about the weather. Although our future hinged on whether she could trust me with her heart again, I always knew that I’d die imagining her face. Those eyes.
“Told you,” Amber muttered, taking a sip of her iced tea.
Clearing my throat, I said, “You got me. About my grandmother … I assume she’s trying to play matchmaker.”
“All of the grandmothers are armed with their Cupid arrows today. I just wish I wanted a hookup. I actually met someone a few weeks ago. Coincidentally, the day after I spent the night at your place. My grandmother doesn’t like him.
So, I’m here. Counting down the minutes until I can leave and go watch the fireworks with him. ”
Again, my eyes drifted across the yard, locked on Albany’s. She smiled and waved. I tipped my head to her before I forced my attention back to Amber. “Then you should go to him,” I suggested.
Amber glanced at her watch and sighed. “In a few minutes. My Nana is talking business with a friend. I don’t want to leave before I can say goodbye.” She glanced at Albany. “She’s pretty.”
Once again, I stared at Albany. She was laughing at Hendrix now. A carefree, sincere laugh that lit up her face. My heart clenched in my chest. “She is,” I whispered.
“You should probably do something about that.”
Smirking, I nodded. “You just say what you’re thinking, huh?”
“I know no other way to be. Got it from my grandmother.”
“Seems like all the grannies are that way,” I agreed.
“Well,” she chirped, “I’m going leave you to your perusal. I forgot I can’t stand too close to you anyway. I don’t want to be the subject of the next Ms. Tea content.”
I chuckled. “You got jokes.”
“Have a nice evening, Wesley.” She offered me her hand, and I shook it. “Good luck.”
A moment later, Hendrix approached me. “Bruh, you might as well go to her.”
“Shut the hell up,” I murmured.
“No, seriously. She sent me over here to tell you to come now.” Hen clasped my shoulders. “I don’t say it much because I’m not a sentimental punk. But you deserve to be happy, bruh. After everything your father did, everything you’ve been through, I hope you can make it happen with Albany.”
“I hope so,” I admitted. “It’s up to her.”
“Well, it looks like you two turned a corner since the last time I saw you together. As long as you don’t turn into me and Bri, you’ll be alright.”
I eyed my cousin curiously. “What exactly are you and Bri doing?”
“Shit.” He finished his drink. “Living, arguing, and fucking. No commitments, no expectations.”
A few months ago, I would’ve dapped him up because I wholeheartedly agreed that was the only way to live.
Now that Albany was back, now that she’d agreed to consider something more, I couldn’t imagine going back to that mentality.
And as much as Hendrix would deny it, I knew that he felt the same way about Bri.
Yet, for whatever reason, they were stuck in this cycle.
“If all goes well,” he continued, “you might be the first grandson to collect your inheritance.”
“I don’t know about that.” Marriage was a long way off, yet for the first time, the thought didn’t make me want to hurl. “We’ll see.”
Bri strolled over to us, a plate of chicken wings in her hand. “Hey, Wes.” Hendrix snatched a wing from her plate, and she popped his hand. “Don’t dip your hands in my food. I don’t know where they’ve been.”
Hendrix smirked, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Oh, you know where they’ve been.”
Rolling her eyes, she shoved him away. “Shut up, man. Go somewhere. I need to talk to Wes.”
Hendrix stole another wing. “Come find me when you’re done.”
Bri munched on a chicken wing, while she studied me, her eyes probing. Knowing.
“Uh-oh,” I muttered. “What did she tell you?”
Albany and Bri had been attached at the hip for years.
It was assumed that every secret told to Albany would be shared with Bri.
To avoid confusion, they would often give a disclaimer before listening to gossip: If you tell Albany, you’re essentially telling Bri.
And vice versa. Be good with that before you start talking.
The two hadn’t lived in the same city in years, so I wasn’t sure how true that still was. But I knew that fierce loyalty had never waned. Neither of them would hesitate to throw hands for the other. That included men, women, old, and young.
Eyeing me warily, she said, “Wes, I swear … you hurt my friend, I hurt you.”
I smiled. “I wouldn’t expect anything less. Is that what you want to talk to me about? Are you here to tell me to leave her alone?”
“Actually, I’m here to tell you to not leave her alone. Don’t give up on her.”
Over the years, I used my proximity to Bri to stay connected to Albany.
She talked about her often, shared little things about her life.
And I’d hold on to any information no matter how insignificant because everything about her mattered to me.
It was painful to think about her, to picture her in love with someone else, but I couldn’t stop wishing for her happiness. Even if it wasn’t with me.
“You’re sure about that?” I asked. “I hurt her.”
“You were so young, Wes. I can’t even imagine dealing with the things you did at that age. I was too busy watching Twilight and worrying about whether Hendrix liked the way I looked in my jeans. Yes, I was angry with you. And I made you pay for it.”
When I first moved back to Detroit, it took years for Bri to look at me without a scowl on her face.
Every time I walked into a room, she smacked the shit out of me.
Eventually, though, she’d warmed up to me and I appreciated it because I knew she was doing it for Hendrix. They just didn’t realize it yet.
“But that was a long time ago,” she continued. “You’re both stronger now.” Her shoulders fell. “You love her.”
I sighed. “I never stopped.”
“And I swear I’ll deny this if you ever tell her what I said. You will be all kinds of assholes. But … she loves you, too.”
The words weren’t coming from Albany, but Bri was the next best thing. And I let that fuel my desire to go to her. “Did she tell you that?”
“She didn’t have to.” She smiled. “Listen, I want you both to be happy.”
“What if I can’t make her happy?”