by T. K. Leigh
Only Hazel survived, albeit barely.
Which is why I still struggle to understand how she was able to put herself out there again after what she went through.
“Weren’t you scared?” I ask in a timid voice, feeling unusually vulnerable. “When you started dating Diego? Especially after what you went through, what you lost? How were you able to take a risk again? Trust again?”
“Because if I didn’t, he’d win. I survived. I needed to live for Evan and Benjamin.” She offers a sad smile at the mention of her sons. “And for me.
“I’m not saying that putting myself out there, putting my heart out there, wasn’t scary. It was. It was the most terrifying thing I’d ever done after everything I lost. There were times I felt like you do. That I should lock my heart behind an iron fortress so I don’t have to experience that excruciating pain again. But if I did that, I never would have met Diego. Never would have experienced his love. And let me tell you, Lo. His love is everything to me.”
Peace washes over her as she stares into the distance. “My mama used to always say that life is like a game of chess. Sometimes you’re the queen. Sometimes the rook. Sometimes a pawn. But regardless of who you are, the strategy is the same. It’s about taking risks and hoping to reap a huge reward. If you don’t take a risk, you may miss out on finding that happiness people search for their entire lives. The happiness that might be right in front of you. The happiness you deserve. Just…” She trails off, collecting her thoughts.
Then she returns her blazing eyes back to mine, her expression brightening. “Just keep your heart open to the possibility instead of dictating what will never be because of some misplaced fear about what the future holds. No one can know what lies ahead of us. The only thing we can do is make the most of today. Live the best life we can.”
I stare ahead, studying the vintage artwork I found at a flea market that hangs on the wall over the television. Can I really do what Hazel suggests? Can I really keep my heart open after everything?
“You have a decision to make, Lo,” she continues when I don’t immediately say anything. “Do you keep letting your past control you? Do you keep letting him win?”
I tear my eyes back to hers, about to argue I’m not letting him win, but she cuts me off.
“Or do you finally take back this last part of your life?” She pinches her lips together, a knowing look crossing her expression. “If you ask me, the answer’s pretty obvious.”
Chapter Eight
Weston
“You’re late,” Julia sings as I fly through the door and up the stairs, not even stopping by the kitchen to see her or Imogene. I can’t. Not when Londyn’s mere minutes away from walking through that same door herself.
Thanks to a few meetings that ran over, I got stuck in the office later than usual. Couple that with the already heavy Atlanta traffic that was even worse tonight, as if karma knew I was desperate to get home, and it’s a wonder I made it here before Londyn at all.
“I know,” I call back. “I’ll be down in ten minutes.”
“I’ve never known you to be ready in less than twenty.”
I roll my eyes, ignoring Julia’s jab as I step onto the second-floor landing and make my way down the photo-lined corridor and into the master bedroom. I leave a trail of clothes from the king-sized bed and into the bathroom, then take what’s probably the world’s quickest shower.
Once I wash the sticky Atlanta humidity from my body, I step out and towel off. Wiping the condensation from the expansive mirror above the dual vanity, I tilt my head back, surveying the scruff growing along my face and chin. I consider shaving, something I once did every day. Since Brooklyn left me and I haven’t exactly had a woman for whom to shave, I’ve stopped putting in the effort.
As I peer at my reflection, I wonder what Londyn prefers. Does she like her men clean-shaven? Or would she rather a bit of scruff?
I don’t have time to dwell on that, though, as the sound of the doorbell echoes, followed by Zeus’ rambunctious barking. After running some product through my hair, I dash into my closet and grab the first thing I find — a white linen shirt and pair of jeans.
Once I’m dressed, I take one last look in the mirror before walking out of my room, my steps quick as I head down the stairs. The instant I round the corner into what I consider the heart of my home — the kitchen, living, and dining area — I’m assaulted with a powdery fresh perfume.
From the moment I laid eyes on Londyn, I thought she was beautiful. But there’s something about having her in my house, dressed in a loose black blouse, a pair of skinny jeans, and those same heels I remember from that day in the rain, that makes her even more breathtaking. Her hair frames her face in tight ringlets, complexion smooth, lips shining with gloss. My gaze is drawn to them like a man seeing the majesty of the Grand Canyon for the first time, mesmerized by the beauty, staring in wonder at how nature could make something so magnificent.
“Hi,” I say, the slight waver in my voice evidence of the edginess I experience whenever I’m in her presence.
“Hey.” She briefly averts her eyes, an adorable nervousness about her that matches my own.
“Hey to you, too,” Julia cuts through, reminding me we’re not alone.
“Sorry.” I head toward my sister, kissing her cheek. “Hey, Jules.”
“Impressive.” She glances at the clock on the stove. “I was skeptical, but you pulled it off. Ten minutes exactly.”
“Told you I could do it.”
“I’m calling it a fluke. Or maybe the result of…adequate motivation.”
“Did I miss something?” Londyn looks between us, her confusion apparent. “I’m completely lost.”
“She always complains I’m worse than a woman when it comes to getting ready.”
“I’m a mom,” Julia explains with a shrug. “I’m used to needing to be out of the house before the wind changes and my daughter decides she wants to throw a fit.”
“I don’t throw fits,” Imogene protests from the couch in the living room, a coloring book open in her lap.
“Sure you don’t.” My sister’s voice oozes with sarcasm as she playfully rolls her eyes. Then she redirects her attention to Londyn. “Can I get you something to drink? Do you like wine?”
“I do.”
“Red okay? I made lasagna.”
My stomach rumbles, the aroma of meat and garlic filtering into my senses. While I’m more than capable of cooking, my culinary skills are no match for Julia’s, who’s made a career out of it, although her expertise lies in pastries and desserts. Still, she has a gift when it comes to food, much like Meemaw did.
“That sounds wonderful,” Londyn offers with a smile. “Do you need help with anything?”
“You’re our guest, so just relax.” Julia shoots me a look, silently telling me I’m on wine duty, then refocuses on the tomato sitting on the cutting board, bringing a knife up to it.
“Did you find the place okay?” I ask to fill the silence as I stride toward the built-in wine cabinet just off the kitchen.
“I did.” She looks around. “You have a lovely home. All the houses out here in Brookhaven are gorgeous, though.”
“Where do you live?” Perusing my options, I select a Chianti I purchased last time I was in Italy and bring it back to the island, grabbing a few wine glasses on the way.
“O4W,” she replies, using the local nickname for Old Fourth Ward.
“That’s a great part of the city.” I extend the cutter out of the corkscrew, slicing into the foil around the neck of the bottle, then make quick work of the cork, a pop echoing as I pull it out. “Really on the up and up.” I pour some wine into a glass and slide it across the counter toward her.
“I sometimes forget I’m in the city. It’s got a nice community feel. People look out for each other there.”
“Apartment? Townhouse?” I ask, wanting to learn all the pieces that make up who she is, desperate for even the tiniest bit of information.
“You guess?”
“One of the instructors at my se—” She stops short, panic washing over her face just long enough for me to notice before she corrects herself. “My gym,” she continues, pushing out a breath. “She and her husband bought a multi-family house several years back. They needed a tenant, and I needed a place to live. Now that I’ve been there a few years, I forget it’s two separate units, since we all come and go from each other’s places like we share them.”
“Sounds nice. It’s good to have people looking out for you.” Once I’ve poured a glass for myself and Julia, I skirt around to the other side of the island, shooing Zeus away, and pull out one of the barstools. “Have a seat.”
“Thank you.” She drapes her commuter bag over the back of the chair, then hoists herself onto it.
I do my best to ignore Julia’s satisfied smirk as I sit beside her. When I unexpectedly brush my leg against Londyn’s, I practically jump out of my skin. “Sorry.”
She chews on her lower lip. “It’s okay.”
“How about a toast,” Julia suggests through the nervous tension sizzling in the room. I can’t remember being this on edge the first time I took Brooklyn out. And this isn’t even a date.
“Right.” I rip my gaze to hers. “A toast.”
“Hope it’s a good one,” Julia mutters.
“A good one?” Londyn inquires.
“It’s this thing we usually reserve just for the holidays or when we have guests over,” I explain. “Something we picked up from Gampy. A little sibling rivalry to see who can come up with the better toast.”
“Hope you’ve brought your A-game.” Julia waggles her brows.
“Okay.” I fully face her. “Let’s see what you’ve got.” I steal a glance at Londyn, winking before returning my attention to Julia.
She stands proudly, wine glass raised. “May we never go to hell.” She pauses. “But may we always be on our way.”
“That’ll be a dollar!” Imogene calls out, arm outstretched, palm open, her focus still on her coloring book.
“A dollar?” Londyn asks.
I chuckle. “Julia tends to swear a bit.”
“And my darling daughter has brought home her job at school as the polite police. So every time I say a word that’s not polite, or swear, I have to pay her a dollar.”
“How much have you given her so far?”
“Let’s just say her paying for college won’t be a problem.” She places her glass on the island and reaches into her back pocket, retrieving a small bunch of one-dollar bills. Unfolding one, she walks toward Imogene and slaps one into her palm before returning to us, feigning irritation. “Your turn.”
Licking my lips, I clear my throat. “Here’s to a long life, and a happy one. A quick death, and an easy one. A good woman, and an honest one. A good wine… And another one.”
“Not sure it’s as good as mine, but I suppose I’ll let you win this round.”
“That’s what I thought.” I smile, bringing my glass toward Julia’s, about to clink.
“How about me?” Londyn interjects.
Stopping, I shoot my eyes toward her. “What’s that?”
“Can I do a toast?”
“Absolutely!” Julia replies.
“Sorry,” I say in a low voice. “I should have asked. I didn’t want to put you on the spot.”
“It’s okay. I mean, I didn’t put much thought into it, but it’s something my neighbors and I always say before we do tequila shots.”
I nod, my lips curving up in the corners, excited for yet another glimpse into who Londyn is. “Go on then.”
She raises her glass, smiling as her eyes meet mine. “May the best of the past be the worst of the future.”
“I’ll drink to that,” Julia says, clinking Londyn’s glass before mine. Then we all take a sip.
As I savor the robust flavor, my eyes wander back to Londyn, watching as she swallows the liquid, then licks her lips free of the wine residue. A little remains on the corner of her mouth, and I have to stop myself from reaching out and swiping it away with my thumb.
“Would you like to see what I’ve been working on this week?” Londyn sets her glass down and reaches into her bag for her tablet.
“Sure. I—”
“Don’t worry about any of that.” Julia waves her off, interrupting me. I dart my eyes toward her, brows furrowed.
“But I thought you wanted to get together to go over my ideas.” Londyn looks from me to Julia, sliding her tablet back into her bag.
“I trust you. I wouldn’t have hired you if I didn’t,” my sister says dismissively. “Plus, you already told me your ideas.” She spins around just as the timer on the oven buzzes.
I pinch the bridge of my nose as the realization hits me. Julia never had any intention of discussing the remodel tonight. She planned this to get Londyn and me together. How did I not figure this out sooner, especially after our discussion last weekend?
“I’m sorry about this,” I offer, shooting daggers at my sister before looking back at Londyn. “If I had known, I wouldn’t have intruded on your Friday night plans. I understand how valuable your time must be.” The last thing I want is for her to leave. I’d witnessed her go from hot to cold in the span of a heartbeat on more than one occasion. I fear Julia’s hairbrained scheme will have her running as far away as she can.
Instead, Londyn treats me to her gorgeous smile. “Don’t worry.” Ever so slowly, she gradually leans toward me, her scent wafting around me.
I should look somewhere other than her lips, but I can’t help myself. God, they’re so full. So mesmerizing. I wonder if they taste as sweet as they look.
As if able to read my thoughts, she licks them, making me harden, my grip on my glass tightening.
“Good food,” she begins in a sultry voice, “great wine, and even better company are never an intrusion in my book.” With a wink, she pulls back.
I watch as she grabs her glass and slowly brings it to her mouth, sipping the wine.
I’ve never wished I was a wine glass more than I do right now.
Chapter Nine
Londyn
“You actually made him run naked through the property?” I can barely see through the tears filling my eyes as I sit in the living room of Wes’ home, my stomach aching from laughter at the image of a young Wes streaking through his grandparents’ massive property after his swim trunks snagged on a branch, tearing them off.
All day today, I’d considered canceling, thinking any discussions regarding the design should be done in a more appropriate setting, not during a family dinner on Friday night. Normally, I wouldn’t think twice about having dinner with a client. But Wes is…different. What I feel for him is different. Which is why I should run as far away as I can. But as Hazel reminded me, I need to stop letting him control my decisions.
“And that’s not even the worst of it,” Wes counters, stroking Imogene’s hair as she sleeps curled up next to him on the couch. She fell asleep about an hour ago, no longer interested in listening to her mom and uncle share story after story about the summers they spent at their grandparents’ country house.
There’s something sweet about him as he snuggles with her. When I first met him, I wasn’t sure what to think. He seemed so confident, so assured. A man who was always in control of every part of his life. But observing him with this little girl allows me to see his softer, more vulnerable side. I suppose children have that effect on you.
“It gets worse?” I ask, sipping on my water.
Julia grins deviously. “I’d invited a few of my friends from town to come over. Including Evangeline Allen.”
“Who’s Evangeline Allen?”
“The older sister of one of my good friends. And Wes’ first crush. After that incident, I’m pretty sure she was scarred for life.”
Wes glances at me with a devious glint. “I’d like to think she saw more than she could handle.”
&
nbsp; “Sure she did.” Julia playfully rolls her eyes, and we all erupt in laughter.
“It sounds like you have some incredible memories at the house.” I look between them, unable to see the resemblance one would normally find with siblings.
Wes is broad, tall, with dark hair and penetrating blue eyes. Julia’s on the shorter side, although still slender, with golden blonde hair and the greenest eyes I’ve ever seen. Even their personalities seem to be on opposite ends. Wes appears more soft-spoken and reserved, but when he does speak, it’s of importance, not just words to fill the silence. Julia is more outgoing, constantly chatting about whatever comes to mind.
“We do.” Julia shares a look with her brother, the affection they hold for each other evident. “Some of my best memories happened there.”
“What were your grandparents like?” I ask.
“Amazing,” she answers without a moment’s hesitation. “They’re the reason Wes and I turned out as…normal as we did.”
“Normal?”
“We grew up in a world where lunch boxes were Louis Vuitton and sneakers were Jimmy Choo. Or at least they would be if those things existed.”
“So your parents had money.”
“They did,” Wes answers. “They do. Gampy and Meemaw weren’t poor, either. They did well for themselves. But unlike our father and his family, they always gave back. Always. Couldn’t stomach the idea of having so much when some people had nothing. Gampy would always quote Ronald Reagan and say, ‘We can’t help everyone, but we can help someone.’ So he spent most of his life helping someone, one person at a time. As did Meemaw.”