Sterling reached for the remote and shut it off.
“Hey!”
“Hey, yourself,” he responded. “Answer the question. Did you ask Ophelia to sign a prenuptial agreement?”
Jonas rolled his eyes and stretched his neck muscles. “There’s no need.”
Sterling placed a hand over his heart while Quentin looked as if he’d been struck dumb.
“Don’t you two start. I already know what you’re going to say, and I don’t want to hear it.”
“Do you also know we’re going to have you committed?” Sterling asked. “No way are we going to allow you to marry some woman you barely know without a prenup. That’s financial suicide.”
“Say what you want. I’m not listening. Ophelia isn’t a gold digger, and she has more class than all the women you two knuckleheads ever dated, combined.”
“That’s not saying much.” Quentin shrugged. “Besides, class is highly overrated.”
“Now, I’m going to have to agree with him,” Sterling said.
Laughing, Jonas returned his attention to the field. “Look, I don’t expect you two to understand. Just know I’ve made my decision, and I’m cool with it. Ophelia is everything a man would want. I feel lucky she’s agreed to marry me.”
“Hell, what woman wouldn’t? I checked out that rock on her finger. That had to set you back at least six figures,” Sterling said.
“And it was worth every penny.” Jonas winked.
“All right. It’s your funeral.”
“C’mon, guys,” he said, managing to hold on to his sense of humor. “Is it going to kill you to just be happy for me? I love her and I’m willing to take a chance.”
The doubting brothers paused to stare at each other and then fell back in their seats roaring heartily.
Jonas pretended to ignore them, but when their laughter refused to die, he couldn’t stop his lips from curling. “You two are just playa haters.”
“Oh, about that.” Quentin slapped his back. “On your wedding day, we’re going to have to confiscate your playa card. At least until after the honeymoon.”
“Hell, after not getting any for five months, he may never come back from that honeymoon,” Sterling added.
Quentin’s eyes widened to the size of silver dollars. “What? Five months? You have to be kidding me.”
Jonas reached over and popped Sterling on the back of the head. “That was between me and you, big mouth.”
“You mean to tell me you and this chick haven’t slept together in five months?” Quentin was still dumbstruck. “Why in hell did you agree to something like that?”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but we wanted our wedding night to be special,” Jonas said patiently.
“We?” Quentin barked, sloshing liquor over the bar. “What’s this we crap? That sounds like a chick thing. And what’s so special about it? Either way you go, it’s going to be the first time you do it as man and wife. That’s as special as it gets.” Quentin turned up his glass.
“Unless she’s a virgin,” Sterling wondered aloud.
Quentin choked and spewed out his drink. “A what? What is that?”
“Do you two mind?” Jonas snapped. “You’re talking about my future wife. It doesn’t matter who said what or who agreed to what. This is just how it is, and I’m sorry I ever mentioned it.” He popped Sterling again.
His brothers’ silence lasted less than a second.
“So is she or is she not a virgin?” Sterling asked, chuckling.
“That is none of your business.”
Sterling took his turn in smacking Jonas across the back. “Look, maybe I can sort of see why you might be tempted to go down this dangerous path. You’re right. She’s a beautiful woman. But bro, it’s the beautiful ones you have to look out for.”
“Yeah,” Quentin intoned. “Don’t you remember that song? The beautiful ones hurt you every time.”
“You got it all twisted,” Jonas insisted. “Ophelia is not like that.”
“All right, bro.” Sterling shrugged and finally gave up the fight. “I hope you’re right…for your sake.”
Chapter 25
“How often have you experienced this pain?” Dr. Woodward asked.
Solomon thought for a moment. “I really don’t know,” he said, frowning. “Maybe a few months. It sort of comes and goes.” He held still while the doctor placed the cold stethoscope against his back.
“Breathe in for me.”
Solomon followed the doctor’s instructions. After a few more tests, the doctor jotted down some notes and rattled off more questions before he hit on one that gave Solomon pause. “Stress?”
“Well, I know a man in your line of work must deal with a lot of that, but has your workload increased—or maybe it’s something in your home life?”
Hell there was nothing at home. There was no one waiting to see him. Maybe he should look into getting a pet.
“Mr. Bassett?”
“Uh, no. Everything is pretty normal,” he lied. Since June, his whole world had been flipped upside down and turned inside out, but he would survive.
“What about your move?” Dr. Woodward asked. “When is that again?”
“Tomorrow,” Solomon replied.
“Hmm.” The doctor folded his arms and considered him. “Maybe—”
“No, no. That’s not it.”
“The only reason I asked is because you just had a complete physical in May, and all your results show you’re in optimum health. But we can run them again if you like. I’ll get Darla in here with the EKG machine. We can make sure nothing has snuck up on us.”
Solomon agreed to the additional tests, and an hour later, he collected Selma from the waiting room.
“What did he say?” Selma asked, sliding her purse strap over her shoulder. She waited for his answer before budging.
“I’m fine. Just like I said,” he told her, clasping her elbow in a firm grip.
She sighed and allowed him to lead her out of the doctor’s office. Once they reached the elevator bay, she tugged his arm. “Maybe we should get a second opinion?”
He rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Let it go. It was just indigestion.”
“Uh-huh.” Selma folded her arms. “What exactly did you tell the doctor?”
Thankfully, the elevator arrived and Solomon wasted no time stepping into the small compartment.
Selma followed suit and kept her eyes glued on him. “Well?”
“Look, I appreciate the concern, Selma—”
“But?”
“But I’m more than capable of discussing chest pains with my doctor. Nothing showed up on the EKG or X-ray. Let’s drop it.”
“Fine,” she snapped, and then allowed the small space to fill with silence.
The doors opened at the building’s lobby, and the friends bolted out as if they were in dire need of air. The silence continued during their walk to Selma’s rental car. However, the moment they settled into their seats both blurted out, “Sorry.”
They glanced at each other with wobbly smiles.
Solomon took her hand. “Thanks for caring so much.”
“Actually, I have an ulterior motive. I have to make sure you stick around long enough to take my boys to Disney World this spring.” She started the car.
“Ah, the truth comes out.” He chuckled.
“Hey, Marty and I took them once, and we’re still recuperating. Of course, after you move to New York and are around my little monsters more often, you’ll probably rethink this whole thing.”
“Not on your life,” he vowed. “I love children and can’t wait to go.”
“Spoken like a true single man.”
Solomon held on to his smile and glanced out of his side window. Tomorrow was a big day. For him…and for Ophelia.
This time they fell into a comfortable silence during the rest of their ride, and for the first time in many weeks, he allowed his thoughts to drift to his former best friend. He remembered the
last time he saw her just as vividly as the first. Regardless of what his future held or whom he would go on to love and marry, he doubted he would ever forget any memory of her. Despite all that had happened, he truly wished Ophelia the best love had to offer. She deserved nothing less.
* * *
Ophelia finally experienced her butterflies. However, it felt more like they were attacking her from the inside. It was just the wedding rehearsal, but she had serious reservations about whether her knees were strong enough to carry her down the aisle.
She glanced at her father—the Corporal, a tall man at six-foot-five, and just as much of an imposing figure at age sixty-nine as he was in his heyday in the military.
“Are you all right, baby girl?” he asked, undoubtedly noticing her fright.
Fleetingly, she thought about asking, no, begging him to find the quickest escape route; but in the next breath, she realized she was just being silly. “I’m fine,” she whispered.
His gaze scrutinized her until he was satisfied. “You know,” he whispered. “I think you’ve made a fine choice. This man seems to care for you very much.”
She was shocked. Her father never said a kind word about anyone she’d dated. “Yes. Yes, he does,” she answered.
The wedding planner breezed past and instructed everyone to take their places.
“Of course…never mind.” He shrugged.
“What is it?”
“Nothing. It’s not important.”
Ophelia frowned. “Let me be the judge of that. What were you going to say?”
He met her gaze again. “Well, it’s nothing against your, uh, fiancé. Like I said—he’s a fine young man, but I always thought you and that other young man would eventually hook up. Not that I prefer him or anything. I’m just…surprised.”
There was no point in pretending she didn’t know to whom he was referring, but she did manage to laugh at the notion. “His name is Solomon, Dad. And no, we were never going to hook up, as you put it. We were just friends.”
The Corporal glanced around. “I know. I know. You’ve been telling me that for years. But I guess the way you two were always joined at the hip, I thought… Well, it doesn’t matter. I was wrong, and you made an excellent choice.”
She nodded and glanced away; but after a moment of thinking about it, she faced him again. “Does that mean if I had chosen Solomon, it wouldn’t have been an excellent choice?”
He blinked. “No, no. Not at all. The other young man, er, Solomon, would have been a fine choice as well.”
“Marcel?”
“Another good choice.”
Smiling, she shook her head. “I take it you would’ve liked anyone I chose to marry.”
“Like?” The Corporal laughed. “Now, I don’t like any of them. No man is ever going to be good enough for you in my eyes, but I can respect your choice. And I can break the man’s legs if he ever steps a toe out of line.”
“Thanks, Daddy.” She smiled sadly.
“What is it?”
“Nothing.”
He kissed her forehead as the wedding march began. “Ready for a test run?”
“I am now.”
* * *
Selma and Solomon arrived back at his place, where a team of movers were steadily packing, and occasionally breaking, his stuff. Fortunately, Selma thrived off being in charge and upon her return, she resumed bossing everyone around. However, there was one room Solomon insisted on packing himself: the music room.
He trusted no one else with his precious platinum plaques or his massive CD collection…and that included Selma. It also meant he would have some much-needed time alone. After an hour of the tedious chore, he took note of the time.
Eighteen hours to go.
How sad was it he had started counting down the hours? Shaking his head, Solomon once again told himself to embrace change. It was difficult, but he still hoped and yearned for love and marriage…and children.
Nothing was as hard as erasing the image of him doting on a little girl with long, sandy brown hair and golden-colored eyes. In some strange way, saying goodbye to his fictitious child was like being in mourning.
Drawing a deep breath, he returned to his packing. However, his gaze soon snagged on an old CD: Jodeci’s Forever My Lady. A smile flittered at the corners of his lips, and for a brief moment, he actually imagined the scent of strawberries filling the room. Yet before he was whisked away by the old memory, he heard a light rap against the door.
He turned toward Selma’s smiling face.
“You got a minute?”
“Sure.” He returned the compact disc to its rightful place and gestured for her to enter.
“Not that I was snooping or anything—”
“I already don’t like how this is starting off,” Solomon said, folding his arms.
Selma held up a white envelope. “I found this in the kitchen.”
The wedding invitation.
“I didn’t know Ophelia mailed you a peace offering. Why aren’t you going?”
Solomon opened his mouth.
“The truth,” she added.
Solomon clamped his mouth shut and shook his head. He didn’t want to have this discussion. Maybe it would’ve been better if he’d made a tape and just played it whenever people asked him the same question.
“You know,” Selma continued, “it wasn’t too long ago you told me you’d rather have Ophelia in your life as a friend than not at all. I mean, wasn’t that the whole point of not pursuing a relationship? The friendship meant everything.”
“Nobody likes having their own words thrown back at them,” he joked to his unamused friend. “I was wrong,” he said somberly. “I’ve been lying to myself. Is that what you want to hear? Well, there you go. I said it.”
“You should go,” she said, holding out the envelope.
“No.”
Selma walked over to him and pressed the envelope into his hands. “Go. Tell her how you feel.”
Solomon stared into her pleading eyes, and then lowered his gaze to the envelope.
“Go,” she insisted. “Even if it’s just to say goodbye.”
Another Intermission
Chapter 26
Back at the Crown Room
“I think you’re purposely drawing this story out to keep me on pins and needles,” Toni complained. “When are we going to get to the wedding?” she gasped. “Wait. Was there even a wedding?”
The bartender approached. “Can I get you two anything else?”
“I’m good,” she said.
Her handsome storyteller simply shook his head, and the bartender silently drifted away.
Toni glanced back at her companion with a million questions racing through her mind. His story had the makings of a daytime soap. Did Ophelia really love Solomon, or had the handsome, spontaneous Jonas stolen her heart?
“You know, I really don’t know why I’m running off at the mouth like this. My rehashing this story isn’t going to change how things turned out.”
Fearful she wouldn’t hear the rest of the story, she carefully placed a hand against his arm. “Maybe not, but talking about things can be therapeutic.”
His silence seemed to stretch for an eternity before he finally met her gaze. “I guess you want to hear the rest?”
Toni nodded and leaned in close.
“Let’s see. Where was I?”
The Wedding
Chapter 27
The morning of November twelfth, Ophelia woke up in her suite at Château Élan to a soft rap at the door. She had a sneaky suspicion who was on the other side, and she was hesitant to open it. “Go away,” she sang.
Jonas laughed. “C’mon. Open up. I just want to wish you a happy wedding day.”
She peeled back the soft sheets and stood up from her bed. “I can’t do that.” She walked over to the door. “You know it’s considered bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the wedding.”
“I won’t tell anybody,” he coerced softly.
Smiling, Ophelia cracked opened the door and peeked out. On the other side stood her fiancé, holding a single long-stemmed rose.
The Beautiful Ones (Arabesque) Page 16