This I Promise You

by Smith, Maureen

  For a long time they sat there simply hugging and holding each other.

  Rubbing his cheek against the top of her head, Quentin murmured, “What would I do without you?”

  Lifting her head from his shoulder, Lexi cupped his cheek and gave him a smile full of fierce hope and promise. “If I have anything to say about it, you’ll never have to find out.”

  9

  At the office on Monday morning, Quentin and Marcus gathered in the large conference room for a videoconference with Lexi’s brother, Colby, and his wife Ava. Although the two young attorneys were the newest partners in Wolf & Reddick’s employment and labor group, they were among the best. They worked well together, feeding off each other’s energy and drive to win cases. Which was why they’d been sent to the firm’s Washington, D.C. office to provide assistance on a major employment discrimination lawsuit.

  That morning, the couple sat next to each other at a long conference table with a view of the Washington Monument in the background. Sipping from steaming mugs of coffee, they provided an update on the new case, rarely interrupting each other and apologizing when they did. Although they spoke with brisk efficiency and maintained a professional demeanor throughout the meeting, a blind man could see the chemistry between them. It came through in their shared glances and warm smiles, the occasional touch on a hand or shoulder.

  Even if Quentin and Marcus hadn’t been groomsmen in the couple’s wedding, they would have known that Colby and Ava were crazy about each other.

  When the newlyweds had satisfactorily answered all their questions, Quentin remarked, “Sounds like things are in good shape over there.”

  “I agree,” Marcus said from the other side of the large mahogany table. “We’ve got a strong case to take to trial.”

  “Definitely,” the others concurred.

  Colby said, “We know the lawsuit is going to draw a lot of media coverage—”

  “—which will work in our favor,” Ava finished his sentence.

  When they smiled at each other, Quentin and Marcus exchanged amused glances.

  “Before I forget,” Ava said, turning back to the camera, “everyone sends their warm regards. Well…except the ones who are still mad at Marcus for ditching them to move back to Atlanta.”

  Everyone laughed good-naturedly.

  Flicking his wrist to glance at his gold Rolex watch, Marcus rapped his knuckles on the glossy table. “Let’s reconvene when you two get back next week.”

  “Sounds good, boss,” Colby and Ava agreed.

  As soon as the videoconference ended, a strikingly attractive young woman sashayed into the conference room. She pulled up short when she saw Quentin and Marcus seated at the table.

  “I am so sorry,” she apologized in a breathy voice. “I thought the room was empty.”

  “That’s all right,” Marcus said. “What do you need?”

  She held up a stack of papers. “My manager sent me up here to get the room ready for our department meeting. But I can come back.”

  “That won’t be necessary. We were just wrapping up.” Marcus waved vaguely at the table. “Do what you need to do.”

  She beamed at him. “Thank you, Mr. Wolf.”

  The newcomer was a curvy redbone with green eyes and long dark hair. She wore a snug red blouse that was unbuttoned low enough to show off her generous cleavage. Her tight black skirt was way too short to be considered proper business attire, and her spike-heeled pumps were better suited for a stripper pole than an elite law firm.

  And Quentin would know, given how many strip clubs he used to visit.

  “I’m sorry,” the young woman gushed, staring at him and Marcus. “Can I just say what an honor it is to meet two of the top trial lawyers in the country? I’ve read every piece you two have ever published and I’ve kept every feature article written about you. I loved last year’s Esquire cover so much that I’m still using it for the wallpaper on my computer at home. I’m a huge fan, so I’m thrilled and grateful for this amazing opportunity to work for both of you.”

  Quentin and Marcus inclined their heads with unaffected modesty and thanked her for the kind words.

  Marcus added, “Welcome to the firm, Miss— I’m sorry. I didn’t catch your name.”

  “Chara Gibson,” she purred, gliding forward to shake his hand. “I work as a paralegal in product liability.”

  “Ah.” Marcus sent a knowing glance at Quentin. “So you report to Judson Walsh.”

  “Yes. He’s great, isn’t he?” As Chara leaned over the table to shake Quentin’s hand next, a gap in her blouse revealed a glimpse of her red lace bra.

  Quentin deliberately cleared his throat. When she gave him a quizzical smile, he motioned toward her shirt. “Looks like you missed a couple buttons.”

  She glanced down at herself, then let out a shocked gasp that was about as convincing as a used car salesman hawking a time machine. “Oh, my God. How did that happen?”

  Quentin and Marcus gave each other an amused look that said: Why is this chick tryna play us?

  Any woman with an ounce of modesty would have turned away to discreetly compose herself. But Chara stood there just as bold as you please, taking her sweet time to fasten the buttons even as she fretted, “This is so embarrassing. And to have this happen in front of the head honchos? Sooo mortifying.”

  She looked anything but mortified as she finished buttoning her blouse, then tossed her hair back and winked at Quentin. “Guess I’d better be more careful the next time I get dressed.”

  “That’s probably a good idea,” Quentin dryly agreed.

  She glanced down at the stack of papers in her arms. “Oops. I must have grabbed the wrong handouts.”

  “Don’t you just hate it when that happens?” Quentin drawled.

  She started to nod and then hesitated, unsure how to read his faintly mocking tone. When she looked to Marcus, he could barely contain his smirk.

  “Well,” she said brightly, “I’d better go grab the right handouts. It was so nice to finally meet both of you.”

  They inclined their heads as she turned and strutted out the door, hips swinging, long hair swaying back and forth.

  After she left, Quentin and Marcus raised their eyebrows at each other, then started laughing.

  “You know what? It doesn’t even surprise me that Judson’s the one who hired her,” Marcus said in amused disgust. He was referring to the manager of the firm’s product liability group. Although the twice-divorced attorney had a brilliant legal mind, some of his hiring decisions were questionable. He was a serious player, and more than a little color-struck. If it were up to him, every woman at the firm would look—and dress—like Chara.

  Marcus shook his head wryly at Quentin. “As big of a manwhore as you were, even you knew how to separate business from pleasure.”

  “Gee, thanks.” Quentin gave him the finger.

  Marcus laughed, pressing a button on the speakerphone. “Mrs. Akonye.”

  “Yes, Marcus?” his secretary’s thickly accented voice came through the intercom.

  “Have you met Judson’s new paralegal?”

  “I have.” Her tone was sour. “Funny you should ask about her. Judson was just at my desk looking for her. Apparently he sent her to make some copies of a report, and she disappeared. Don’t tell me she wandered off and found her way to the conference room?”

  Marcus and Quentin shared a look of wry humor. “She did.”

  Mrs. Akonye made a sound of disgust. “I knew that girl was trouble the moment I saw her. During her interview, she kept asking if she’d ever get to work with you and Quentin, as if that’s all she cared about. Humph! See, a lot of these young girls come here looking for a husband or a sugar daddy. She’s probably hoping one of you has a wandering eye. But she’s in for a rude awakening.”

  Marcus chuckled dryly. “On that note, would you please go over our dress code with her and let her know we expect our employees to show up for work in proper business attire? This is
a law firm, not a nightclub.”

  “Amen,” Mrs. Akonye agreed.

  “And if she gives you any pushback, just remind her that she’s still under the probationary period for new hires.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll set her straight,” Mrs. Akonye promised, clearly relishing the task.

  “Thank you, ma’am. Appreciate it.” Marcus clicked off the speakerphone and shook his head wryly at Quentin. “The last thing we need is our wives showing up here and seeing female employees dressed like they’re going to the damn club.”

  Quentin huffed out a laugh. “Tell me about it.”

  Glancing at his watch, Marcus drawled, “And speaking of our wives, I gotta run.”

  “Hot date?”

  Marcus grinned. “I’m meeting Samara for lunch, so yeah, it’s always hot.”

  “Nothing like some love in the afternoon,” Quentin said with a wicked grin.

  “You would know,” Marcus teased, buttoning his suit jacket as he stood. “Afternoon quickies are a regular occurrence between you and Lexi.”

  “Indeed.” Quentin grinned harder. “But I know you ain’t talking. Wasn’t it your wife who was caught creeping out of your office last week with her lipstick all smudged and her skirt on backwards?”

  Marcus feigned innocence. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  They both laughed as they reached the double doors of the conference room. Wolf & Reddick was printed in bold blue lettering across the frosted glass. Without conscious thought, they each pulled open the door bearing their last name and strode out together.

  As they headed down the corridor, Marcus nudged Quentin on the shoulder and grinned. “Did Lexi tell you about the betrothal contract?”

  “The what?”

  “Samara told me they want us to draw up some sort of betrothal contract for Milan and Junior.”

  “For real?” Quentin laughed. “I know they’re always joking about those two growing up and getting married. Didn’t know it was that serious. What’d you tell Samara?”

  Marcus quirked a brow. “I told her I need to wait and see what kind of young man Junior becomes before I commit my daughter to him.”

  “What!” Quentin exclaimed, taking umbrage. “Damn, bruh. That’s cold. I’m your law partner. We grew up together. You know me.”

  “All the more reason for me to carefully vet that boy of yours. Like father, like son.” Marcus laughed as Quentin mushed him on the head.

  “That’s a’ight. I think I’ll let Junior sow his wild oats before he settles down.” Quentin winked. “You just make sure baby girl stays pure and innocent for my boy.”

  Marcus snorted. “Nigga, please.”

  They laughed and jawed good-naturedly at each other until they reached the elevators, where Marcus headed off to his noon tryst with Samara while Quentin continued toward the executive wing that housed their corner offices.

  Entering his plush suite, he strode past expensive paintings and floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lined with thick law books. Reaching the massive mahogany desk, he dropped into the large leather chair and picked up his phone to return some calls.

  As he brought the receiver to his ear, his gaze landed on two framed photographs on the edge of the desk. One was of Junior at three weeks old. He was wearing an adorable blue outfit from Asha’s popular infant clothing line. He lay propped up against a giant teddy bear as he beamed angelically into the camera, drawing adoring sighs from his mother, grandmothers and the photographer’s assistant. Junior had cooperated only after being fed, and if the photo session had lasted one second longer, things would have gotten ugly.

  Smiling at the memory, Quentin set the phone receiver down and picked up the second picture of him and Lexi on their wedding day. It was a stunning portrait of them sitting on a hill high above the château in Burgundy where they’d gotten married. Lexi sat astride Quentin in a lush field of lavender, the shimmering white skirts of her princess gown swirling around them. They were gazing into each other’s eyes with their heads close together, their faces glowing with rapturous smiles. Lexi had looked so radiantly beautiful that day she’d taken his breath away. She still did.

  Quentin smiled at her image, tracing it with his fingertips.

  Just then the intercom on his desk buzzed. “Mr. Reddick, I’m heading out to lunch now,” his secretary informed him. “Do you need anything before I leave?”

  “No, thanks, Frances. I’m good.”

  “Don’t forget your lunch meeting with Mr. Hodrinsky at one-thirty.”

  Quentin stared blankly at the phone.

  “You forgot, didn’t you?” Frances said knowingly. “Even though it’s been on your calendar and your phone sends you reminder alerts, you still forgot.”

  He grinned. He had forgotten. “That’s why I have you, Frances.”

  “Uh-huh.” She sounded amused. “I’ll see you when I get back. Then again, no, you shouldn’t be here. One-thirty, Mr. Reddick. Don’t forget.”

  “I won’t,” he promised. “Have a good lunch.”

  “Thanks. You too.”

  Quentin put his wedding picture back in its place. Then he leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers in front of his face, deep in thought.

  After several moments, he pushed out a deep breath, then pulled his phone out of his pocket and speed-dialed his mother’s number.

  “Quentin?” she answered after two rings. She sounded hesitant, uncertain what to expect.

  “Hey, Ma.”

  “Hey, Junebug.”

  “Got a minute?”

  Her voice softened. “You know I’ve always got time for you.”

  He swallowed with sudden difficulty. “Listen, I wanted to talk to you about everything that’s been going on…with your family.”

  When his mother fell silent, he got up and stood at the bank of windows that overlooked downtown Atlanta. “I owe you an apology for my behavior.”

  “Quentin—”

  “No, listen. I shouldn’t have lashed out at you after Uncle Edward’s visit. It was selfish of me to disregard your feelings like that.”

  “Oh, Junebug,” his mother said gently. “How could I ever call you selfish when you’ve always been there for me? You stepped in and became the man of the house after your father died. You worked hard in school to get scholarships because you knew I couldn’t afford your college tuition. When it was time for you to attend law school, you could have gone to Columbia to be closer to Alexis’s culinary school like you both wanted. But instead you stayed home and went to Emory so you could keep a close eye on me. Do those sound like the actions of a selfish son? I think not.”

  Quentin tucked his hand into his pocket, staring out at the downtown skyline.

  “You’ve always looked out for me, Junebug. Why would I expect anything less when my brother shows up out of the blue after all these years?”

  Quentin let out a deep breath and shook his head. “I’m really trying to be magnanimous here, Ma. But every time I think of how much time has passed…” He trailed off as he felt anger stirring again.

  “I know exactly how you feel,” his mother said quietly. “You don’t think I’m angry too? I am. I’m furious. Since seeing my brother on Saturday, my emotions have been all over the place. I go back and forth between wishing he’d never showed his face and wishing I’d given him a hug when he was here. He’s my baby brother, and once upon a time, he meant the world to me. They all did.”

  The pain and yearning in her voice made Quentin’s chest ache.

  “Edward called me yesterday,” he told her.

  She sighed. “I was afraid he would.”

  “How’d he get my number? I know you didn’t give it to him.”

  “Of course not. I wouldn’t do that.” She let out another deep sigh. “Your uncle is a very powerful and resourceful man, Quentin. I’m sure it wasn’t hard for him to get your unlisted number.”

  Quentin clenched his jaw, biting back the bitter retort that sprang to mind. />
  “I’ve been thinking about Junior and how much I want him to know my side of the family,” his mother continued. “Despite everything that happened, I had a wonderful childhood. I have very fond memories of the summers my family spent in Sag Harbor and Martha’s Vineyard. I wanted you to have those same experiences when you were growing up, and I want the same for Junior. Oh, I know you and Alexis will give him the best of everything. Between her family and the Reddicks and the Wolfs, Junior will always be surrounded by people who love him. But I want my family to be part of the picture as well.”

  Quentin was silent. He knew he wasn’t going to like the next words out of his mother’s mouth.

  “Your uncle invited us to Savannah this weekend. You, me, Alexis and Junior. He wants us to meet his wife and children and see the rest of the family. I told him I’d get back to him.” She paused a long moment. “I don’t think I can do it alone, Junebug. Will you go with me?”

  Quentin closed his eyes, resting his forehead against the cool window as Lexi’s words ran through his mind: I want you to think about your father and the kind of man he was. Knowing how close your mother was to her family, what would he want for her right now? Would he want her to make peace with them? Would he want them in her life? What would he want for you?

  “Quentin?”

  His chest expanded as he inhaled, held the breath and then slowly released it. “All right.”

  At the other end of the line, his mother let out a sigh of relief and whispered, “Thank You, Jesus.”

  Quentin’s phone beeped to remind him of his lunch appointment. He welcomed the diversion.

  “I’d better go, Ma. I’m meeting a client for lunch.”

  “All right, baby. I know how busy you are. Before you go, I was thinking we could leave for Savannah on Friday morning and come back Sunday evening, if that works for you.”

  Quentin swallowed hard and nodded. “That’s fine. I’ll move some things around on my schedule.”

  Before he hung up, his mother said, “Junebug?”

  “Yes?”

  There was a knowing smile in her voice. “Please thank Alexis for me.”

  Quentin’s expression softened. Closing his eyes, he whispered, “Will do.”