“Why don’t you get out of here!” Simon yelled. “Poor Logan, grew up in the lap of luxury and complains about it to everyone he meets. You think you’d be an artist if it wasn’t for me? You had a trust fund that funded your little artist bullshit.” Simon nodded at Ingrid. “Who do you think put you through college? I did everything I could for you ungrateful kids and this is the thanks I get. To hell with all of y’all.”
Erik nodded toward the door. “Let’s go.”
“No,” Ingrid said. She crossed over to Simon. “Did you ever love me or my mother? Or was I just another pawn for your chessboard?”
“Little girl, I’ve given you everything you’re ever going to get from me. I don’t owe you anything.”
Tears welled up in Ingrid’s eyes and then she tore off down the hall. Logan and Erik followed her, realizing that Simon wasn’t going to give them any answers and they would just have to make peace with that.
Two Months Later
Much to the delight of the Jordan Industries board and Erik, Simon took a plea deal in his case, which saved the company from additional scandals. The remodel of the company went off without a hitch, or Sylvie.
Erik had tried to reach out to her several times over the last two months, with no response. Since Olivia and Logan had left for New Orleans, he couldn’t reach out to his future sister-in-law to find out what was going on with Sylvie.
Sitting at his desk, he wondered what had gone so wrong between them. Logging on to his computer, Erik pulled up his social media and headed straight for Sylvie’s Facebook page.
At least he knew she was having a good time putting the Sweet Spot together. He smiled as he thought about Sylvie’s sweet spot and how he missed spending hours there.
“She made the decision to cut me off. Just like she did on New Year’s Eve. Maybe it just isn’t meant to be,” he muttered as he scrolled through her pictures. At least she wasn’t posing with some English dude.
One picture stood out to him. She’d taken a flat in London? Just how long was she going to stay there?
London, England
Sylvie wiped sweat from her forehead as she stood outside the Sweet Spot admiring the design on the plate-glass window. She had fashioned it with classic Brooklyn landmarks and some of the highlights of the Marylebone neighborhood, like the reptiles from the London Zoo and a rendering of some of the most popular mannequins at Madame Tussauds—including the royal family.
Though there was an American flag in the corner, near the Brooklyn section of the window, Sylvie was debating if she should put a Union Jack in the background.
“That might make this window too busy.” Sylvie pulled out her phone and snapped a picture of the window. Then she uploaded it to Facebook with the caption: A little Brooklyn in London. #SweetSpotUK.
She sighed, realizing that she was missing Atlanta. Particularly, Erik Jordan. But every time she thought about calling him, she remembered that he’d left with Ingrid. She knew Ingrid had designs on him, and obviously he was feeling her more than he’d been willing to admit.
If that’s what he wants, then good for him. I can do anything I want, even start over in London.
Sylvie had been keeping her conversations with Olivia really short because she didn’t want to ask about Erik or hear Olivia slip up and tell her that he and Ingrid were so in love now. Nope, she’d rather live in ignorance. But her friend did send her the magazine that featured the redesigned interior of Jordan Industries.
She loved how the article focused on Erik stepping up to lead the company that so many women loved, and that he was focusing on black beauty across the world. Sylvie was impressed with the new project he and his mother had started called Beautiful Soul.
When she’d seen the picture of Erik and his mother standing in his office, she had put the magazine down. Seeing him made her heart skip a beat.
She’d thought about calling him, but pride and disappointment got in the way.
“Sylvie!” Myra exclaimed, breaking into her thoughts. “This window is amazing! I just love it.”
“Thanks.”
“Not that I’m complaining, but you’ve been working nonstop since you got here. I need you to take a break.”
“What? But I’m almost done and—”
“We have a month before we open, and you need a break. Not taking no for any answer. I have a ticket to a show at the Royal Festival Hall tonight and you’re going.”
“Myra, I appreciate the offer, but—”
“No buts! You said it yourself, this is your first time in London. Do you want all your memories to revolve around work?”
Sylvie shrugged. “At least I have a nice flat.”
“And now you’re going to a nice show. Go home, change, and have a good time.”
She sighed and nodded. “Fine. I’m going. But, before I leave, what do you think about a Union Jack as a transparent background on the window?”
“Mmm, I think that’s a question I can answer tomorrow,” Myra quipped. “Get out of here.”
Sylvie gave her a mock salute and started toward her rented Fiat. She really liked her Notting Hill flat, even if it was smaller than her place in Atlanta. But it had a lot of style. Myra knew exactly what she was doing when she chose that place for her. Every day, Sylvie got to see the creativity of the future fashion designers when she rode pass the London College of Fashion. The other day must have been wedding collection day. Sylvie couldn’t help but think of the amazing brides who wore those avant-garde dresses. She’d snapped some photos of the models crossing the street in the dresses, but didn’t post them online. She wasn’t sure if the designers were ready to share or not. But Sylvie knew she wanted one of those dresses. Or at least she could show them to Olivia, since there wasn’t going to be a wedding in Sylvie’s future anytime soon. Or ever.
Sylvie tried to turn her thoughts away from Erik and love. Her heart hadn’t healed from the fact that Erik chose Ingrid over her. When she arrived at her flat, Sylvie went into her closet and pulled out a slinky red dress. She’d packed it on a whim, though she figured she’d never wear it. But, she was going out on the town in London and she might as well make the best of it.
She showered, blew out her Afro, and started to put on some makeup. When she reached in the bottom of her makeup kit, she found the tube of red lipstick Erik had given her. She started to toss it in the trash, but then she remembered how soft it felt against her lips. She decided to wear it anyway.
After her face was flawlessly painted and her lips colored a bright red, she slipped into her dress and liked what she saw in the mirror. She snapped a selfie and posted it to her social media sites. #HotLondonNights.
Chapter 25
Erik was ready for a quiet evening by the pool with a thick steak and some whisky. A lot of whisky. Part of his dinner tonight was a celebration; Jordan Industries’ stocks had rebounded and the company was making a turnaround. The magazine article, which highlighted the new direction of the company and showed off Sylvie’s remodel, did a lot to lift the morale around the company. The board had been happy that Simon’s plea deal and the announcement of Yvonne’s women’s empowerment program put the company in the media for all the right reasons.
And Erik was happy to introduce the new and improved Yvonne lipstick, which had four shades of red for every mood and every skin tone. He felt some kind of way when he didn’t hear from Sylvie after he announced that her favorite lipstick was coming back. As much as he’d done it for his mother, he couldn’t deny that Sylvie had been on his mind when he created all four of those colors.
Just thinking about her made him wonder what she was doing. Since he had no luck reaching her on the phone, he went back to social media. When he saw her latest post, he knew it was time to stop sitting in Atlanta, cyberstalking her. He was going to London to win his woman back. Or at least find out how he lost her in the first place, especially since Olivia was sticking to the I-don’t-know-what-happened story line. She had even told Logan the same
thing, at least that’s what his brother said.
Erik was on his phone, about to book a flight, when it rang. When it was Logan and not Sylvie, he was beyond disappointed. Though he should’ve been used to not hearing from her, it didn’t mean he didn’t still yearn to hear her voice.
“What’s up, Logan?”
“Why do you sound like you’re about to take a flying leap off the side of Spaghetti Junction?”
“Because I was about to do something important before you interrupted me. What do you want?”
“Well, I wanted to let you know that my trip to London was canceled and I have an open ticket . . .”
“I didn’t even know you were going to London.”
“Yeah, I was supposed to do an installation at a museum, but I pushed it back two months. I really want to spend some more time with Ma while she’s going through chemo. She and Olivia have become fast friends.”
“I’ve noticed,” he said with a chuckle. “Nice to see them get along, going to mean a lot fewer problems when you two get married.”
“And we’re not going to be able to have the most amazing wedding in the world if my best man and her maid of honor don’t get their shit together.”
“You’ve saved me a headache. I was about to book a flight when you called.”
“Really? Why now?”
Erik snorted. “Because I love that woman and it’s time that she knows it. She can accept it or tell me to fuck off.”
“Let’s hope it’s the former and not the latter. I’m going to text you my information. My flight was scheduled for tomorrow at six.”
“In the morning.”
“Yep. Need a ride to the airport?”
“I do. But I need a favor from Olivia.”
“What kind of favor?”
Erik chuckled again. “I’m sure she has keys to Sylvie’s place. I have a mechanic who can fix her Jag, and he’s mobile, so if she can let him in her garage so that he can fix her car, I’d be grateful.”
“Hold on.”
Seconds later, Olivia was telling him hello. “So, you’re going to get my girl and you want to fix her car?”
“Yes and yes. Do you think she’ll be upset if I do that?”
“No! Erik, make sure she knows that you’re in this for the long haul.”
“I will, because I am. Do you know where Sylvie is staying?”
“I don’t, but my friend hasn’t learned to turn her location off on social media. But you didn’t hear that from me.”
Erik walked inside, forgetting that he was about to drown his sorrows in whisky, and grabbed his laptop. He pulled up his Internet browser and logged on to Facebook. “She’s going to have to adjust her privacy settings,” he said. Erik had been so taken by her pictures that he didn’t notice the geo-tags.
“I’ve been telling her that for years. But you see her apartment is in Notting Hill. The bakery she’s designing is—”
“In the Marylebone neighborhood. Now, I just have to figure out how to get to all of these places.”
“And don’t forget the time change, okay.”
“Got it.”
“What time is the mechanic coming and . . . Wow!”
“What’s going on?” Erik asked, his voice peppered with concern.
“Just saw this picture of Sylvie in that red dress. Oh my goodness, she looks amazing. You better bring your A game, Erik! She is out there looking like a whole snack.”
“Thanks, Olivia.”
“Why don’t you like the picture and let her know you see her out there in those London streets.”
“Umm, I’m not doing that. I don’t want to look like a stalker.”
Olivia burst out laughing. “Yeah, because flying to London and showing up at her work or her house isn’t stalker-like at all.”
Erik clicked like on the picture. “All right,” he said. “I’m going to eat my steak, then go to bed. I got an early flight.”
“Good luck. And, oh! What time do I need to meet the mechanic?”
“At two.”
“Awesome. Your mother said don’t mess this up.”
In the background he heard Yvonne yell, “I said in the words of RuPaul, don’t fuck it up.”
“I’m hanging up now,” Erik said. Looking up, he saw his chef standing in the doorway of his home office.
“Are you eating and working tonight, Mr. Jordan?”
“Yeah. I have an early flight in the morning. Thanks for dinner,” he said as he stood up and took the tray filled with a bone-in rib eye steak and a loaded baked potato. He ate the food while he continued to scroll through Sylvie’s social media. He saw that she had posted another picture in her red dress with the London Philharmonic Orchestra behind her. Some guy had photo bombed her. Then in the next picture, they took a selfie. Erik felt jealousy flowing through his veins when he couldn’t see the stranger’s hand and assumed it was resting on Sylvie’s wonderful ass. Slamming his laptop shut, he realized that six a.m. couldn’t get here fast enough.
London, England
Sylvie was glad that she had attended the concert, but sorry that she’d taken a picture with Kurt Reynolds. Now this man wanted to go out for coffee, and she just wanted to go home and take her shoes off.
“Come on, beautiful,” he said. “Let me take you out on the town. The night is still young.”
“Sorry,” she replied as she patted his shoulder. “I have an early morning.”
He nodded and frowned. “Ah, the beautiful ones always turn me down.”
Sylvie gave him a slow once-over. Any other time, she would’ve said yes to coffee with the tall, dark, and handsome man. He looked like Idris Elba with an Afro and glasses. His big hands reminded her of Erik. His swagger wasn’t as powerful as Erik’s. His smile didn’t make her heart flutter like Erik’s did. Wait. Why was she comparing this man to the one who had broken her heart?
Didn’t Erik tell her there was nothing going on with him and Ingrid? But the words of his assistant still rang in her head.
He left with Ingrid.
“I’m sorry, Kurt,” she said. “In another time I’d love to have coffee with you, but I just want to be alone tonight.”
“I get it. Hope he’s worth the sadness you’re feeling right now.”
“What are you talking about?”
He tilted his head to the side. “I can tell when a woman is carrying a torch. Don’t let your arm get tired.” He took her hand in his and brought it to his lips. When he kissed her hand, Sylvie felt nothing. But she was sure he wouldn’t be leaving the music hall alone. She, on the other hand, was happy to do so. As she waited for a taxi, she realized how much she missed her Jag, even if she was going to have to shell out a gang of money to get it repaired when she returned home.
Maybe it was time to make it a weekend car. But she knew one thing for sure, she was not going to buy a Fiat.
Arriving home, she kicked her gold heels off at the door and pulled her dress off. Walking around in the flat in just her underwear, Sylvie sighed and turned on some John Coltrane. Immediately, she regretted that decision. Her mind returned to that night in Atlanta, Erik’s arms around her on the sofa as they swayed to John’s sax. Maybe it was time for her to grow up and call him. Looking at the clock, she realized how late it was across the pond and promised that she’d call tomorrow. Tonight, she was going to drown her feelings in a bottle of merlot.
* * *
Back in Atlanta, Erik couldn’t stop looking at the picture of Sylvie and fake-ass Idris Elba. What if she’d gone back to his place or if this guy was some member of the royal family and he wooed her away with a sparkling tiara?
Now you’re just being stupid. There aren’t any black British princes.
Erik rolled over on his back and looked up at the ceiling. First, she was going to have to explain her disappearing act. What had he done to cause her to do this? Then he’d tell her that she is the only woman who could make him leave the country to find her. Erik didn’t have a problem with
Sylvie finishing her work in London. But he needed to know that she would come back to him, because he couldn’t spend the rest of his life without her. And he didn’t plan to leave England until he knew for sure that Sylvia Elaine Gates was going to be his forever.
Chapter 26
Erik felt like a child on Christmas Eve. He woke up three times during the night, just to check the clock. It was only two forty-five. If he had his way, he would’ve been at the airport at three. But Erik wasn’t the kind of man who could comfortably sit around an airport waiting.
About twenty minutes later, Erik got out of bed and checked his bag. He’d packed light because he wasn’t sure if Sylvie would want him to stay. But if she did, he had three days to devote to his woman.
She was still his woman, right? Had she let him go, for the man at the concert? What if she was planning to start over in London and he didn’t fit in her life anymore?
He zipped his carry-on bag and sat on the edge of the bed. That was an option he hadn’t wanted to consider, but suppose Sylvie had moved on. For a split second, he thought about canceling the trip and accepting her decision.
And live in a world of what-ifs? Nah, it’s not going down like that.
Erik took a quick shower, brewed some coffee, and pulled up Sylvie’s social media while he drank it. At least he didn’t see another picture of her and that guy. That was a good sign.
He tucked his phone in his pocket. The cyberstalking was getting a little out of control. Erik was tired of the pictures; he wanted to see, feel, and kiss Sylvie.
London, England—
Sylvie couldn’t believe that she was into tea. Or that she’s missed out on these flavors over the years. Peppermint tea was her new thing, though she wasn’t giving up coffee completely. And as soon as she started thinking about coffee, her mind went back to Erik. Why was it so hard for her to realize that he’d moved on and forgotten all about her? It wasn’t as if he’d reached out to her in the past two months. She was about to take a picture of her tea for social media when she noticed that Erik had liked her picture from the music hall.
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