“Thanks. So, you thinking about settling down soon, Damon?” Travis asked.
I tilted my head to the side a little, glanced at Nicky, my girl, and said, “Travis, I would love to settle down with the woman I love, but I know if I looked her in the eye and told her how much I love her and miss her, fell down on my knees and begged her to forgive me for ever hurting her, promised to spend the rest of my life making it up to her and making love to her, told her how much I miss her smile, her goofy-ass laugh, the way she smells, the way she feels…she’d refuse me. I know she’d say no, so I can’t settle down. I can’t be with her, and to be honest, it kills me, because I don’t want anyone else.”
“Wow.” Travis shook his head. “You really love this woman, huh?”
I glanced at Nicky again, saw the tears in her eyes. “I’ve loved her for so long, I don’t know how to stop loving her.”
“I hope you get her back.” He leaned forward. “You’re talking about the YouTuber, right? The one Nicky told me about?”
I smiled as I stood from the table. “Well, thanks for the great dinner that I know Nick didn’t cook.”
She blinked a couple of times and rolled her eyes. “Whatever, Damon.”
Travis proffered me his hand. “Hey, glad you came over. We’ll have to do this again soon.”
“Definitely,” I said, as I shook his hand.
A phone rang, and Travis groaned. “That’s mine. Work, I’m sure.” He kissed Nicky on the forehead. “Babe, you’ll walk Damon to the door?”
She strained out a smile. “Sure, sweetie.”
At the door, we stared at each other for a minute or two before I pulled her into a hug she didn’t resist, kissed her ear, and whispered, “Goodnight, baby.”
Then I left.
10
The day of our meeting with the wedding planner, I stood in front of the mirror that hung on Travis’s closet door and snapped a picture of myself wearing one of my favorite dresses, a skin-tight, champagne-colored mini t-strap one that was so short, it could almost be mistaken for a blouse. I paired it with nude stilettos and wore my bone-strait hair loose, letting it fall to my back. I’d developed a rather unhealthy Instagram addiction since I’d stopped working, so I uploaded the photo with the caption, “Wedding planning. #ootd #hiswcw #bridetobe,” and shoved my phone in my purse.
I was heading out the bedroom when Travis walked through the door and stopped in his tracks. He stood there and stared so long, I laughed and twirled around. “You like?” I asked.
He nodded. “Yeah, but…My mom will be there.”
I shrugged. “So will mine.”
“Uh, yeah…what about that black dress I got you in New York?”
I knew what dress he was referring to, and I only got it because he kept saying how he loved it, but I knew I’d never wear it. It was definitely not my style. “What about it?” I asked.
“I think you’d look better in it.”
“Well, I don’t. And we don’t have time for me to change. We need to be there in less than an hour.”
“How long would it take for you to put it on?”
I blew out a frustrated breath. “What’s wrong with what I have on, Travis? This is my style. I always wear something like this. You never had a problem with it before.”
“I don’t have a problem with it. I mean, you look great, Nicky. I just…you’re going to be my wife soon. You gotta start dressing the part.”
I frowned. “Dressing the part? What are you talking about? What does that even mean?”
He stepped closer to me and rested a hand on my arm. I almost snatched away from him, but stopped myself.
“Babe, I’m trying to build my career, planning to run for office in a couple of years. I need you to start dressing for that future.” He leaned in and kissed my cheek. “Wear the black dress and some more…conservative shoes. Don’t take too long.”
I stood there for a minute or two, really, really wanting to curse his ass out. Instead, I snatched my dress over my head and stomped over to the closet. As I redressed, I vowed to myself that he was going to pay for asking me to dress like a damn Quaker.
*****
Claire Thorne was a tiny little swarthy-skinned woman who stood at about four-eleven and appeared to wear a size zero. She looked elegant in a flowy, Grecian-style dress that billowed to the floor, only allowing a peek at her sandaled feet and French-manicured toenails. She was an older woman. Judging by the heavy make-up caked on her face, I’d put her at sixty. Sitting in her swanky office with her Cat Woman eyeglasses balanced on the tip of her nose, her voice was light as she shared her vision for our wedding and its accompanying festivities. It all sounded wonderful, regal, and I should’ve been over the moon that I was getting a dream wedding, but I felt so uncomfortable in that dress Travis insisted I wear, and I didn’t miss the look his mother gave my mother and father when they arrived. I had always known she didn’t really like me, because my parents weren’t educated or whatever like them. She never voiced her displeasure with my lineage outright, and when I asked Travis about it, he claimed she adored me and everything I stood for, but I caught the little snide remarks her black-version-of-a-Cruella-Deville-looking ass tossed out from time to time. Shit like, “A car salesman? Hmm, to think, the judge and I wasted all those years in school when all we needed to do was sell cars,” or “Your mother is lovely, but I suppose a life of leisure will do that. I mean, who needs a career? Just because I’ve worked hard all my life doesn’t mean everyone has to…”
I couldn’t stand her ass, and she was going to keep disliking me, because my career-less ass was never working again. I had to get something out of this marriage.
I watched her smile at Claire as they discussed some reception venue, and then cut my eyes at my parents who sat there looking uncomfortable. My mother had been trying to get a word in for close to thirty minutes. These two hags were ignoring her, and that was pissing me off.
So, with Travis’s clingy ass still sitting there gripping my hand, I leaned forward and cleared my throat. “I think my mother has something to say.” I didn’t smile or use the fake voice I reserved for the McClure clan. And they noticed.
“Oh, goodness! Did you say something, Mrs. Strickland?” Travis’s mom asked.
My mother offered her a smile and nodded. My mom was so gorgeous, I honestly think Mrs. McClure was jealous of her, and she should’ve been. “Yes, you all were discussing wedding venues earlier?”
Claire bobbed her head a bit. “Yes, the Holy Trinity Chapel. A favorite amongst my clients.”
Mama nodded. “I see, well, Nicole’s sisters both married at True Vine Missionary Baptist, so it’s sort of a tradition for our family now. I’m positive Nicky would want to wed there, too.”
I smiled at her.
Mrs. McClure frowned. “True Vine? Never heard of it.”
“It’s actually located in Bullster, about fifteen minutes outside of Romey. It was my mother’s church. It’s small, but it makes for a gorgeous, intimate ceremony,” Mama explained.
“Small? Intimate?” Mrs. McClure scoffed. “We are expecting well over three hundred guests from our side alone. How many people can this church accommodate?”
Mama shrugged. “Fifty? Sixty if they pull out extra chairs and set them next to the pews.”
Mrs. McClure laughed lightly, cutting her eyes at Claire, who shook her head. “Oh, that won’t do.” Then she said with finality, “Holy Trinity, it is.”
“Awesome!” Claire gushed.
“Uh—” I began, ready to totally break character and curse these geriatric hoes all the way out, but my daddy cut in.
“Wait a minute. How are you gonna make the final decision when I’m the one footing the bill?” He was holding Mama’s hand, and that cinnamon skin he managed to pass on to me and Angie was so red, it was damn near glowing. Daddy might have messed over Mama over the years and been a less-than-stellar father, but at that moment, I could tell he wanted to pimp slap these two b
iddies.
“You’re paying for it?” Claire asked, genuinely stunned.
“Hell, yes! It’s my daughter’s wedding. Why do you think I’m here? And another thing: this is her and Travis’s wedding. The hell are we even here for? All that needs to happen is for them to make the decisions and hand me the bill.”
Mrs. McClure gave Daddy a skeptical look. “You’re going to cover everything?”
“Why? You think I can’t? Because I guarantee you I can.”
I was grinning from ear to ear.
Mrs. McClure looked flustered as she said, “No, I didn’t—Travis, what do you want? Holy Trinity or this New Wine place?”
“True Vine,” Mama corrected.
“Yeah, that,” Travis’s mom said, with a dismissive wave of her hand.
Oooooh, this bitch!
Travis looked from his mom to me with uncertainty in his eyes. His ass was scared of her. “Uh, Nicky, what do you think?”
I wasn’t scared of her, so I said, “True Vine.”
Travis’s shoulders slumped a bit. His mother’s face soured. Claire dropped her eyes and shook her head yet again. Mama was smiling. And Daddy said, “That’s what I thought.”
Travis didn’t have much to say on the way home, but I really didn’t care. I knew there were certain rules when it came to being with him. Some I could deal with, like wearing this ugly-ass dress. But my mom being disrespected? That was the kind of shit I couldn’t tolerate. My mom and Damon’s mom always got along well. His mom was stiff as hell, but she was nice. I hadn’t seen her in probably twelve years, and I really needed to drop in on her.
Why did my mind insist on comparing Travis to Damon? Now I was comparing their mothers? What the hell?
I sighed and had resumed perusing Instagram when a text message popped up.
From Damon.
I glanced at Travis and angled the phone where I hoped he couldn’t see it. I also hoped it wasn’t a dick pic, while at the same time wishing it was. I tapped on the message and smiled as I read it: Hey. Miss u.
I glanced at Travis again and replied: So?
Damon: So I wanna see u.
Me: No.
Damon: U know u miss me 2. Tryna act all hard.
I was grinning now.
Me: Whatever.
Damon: Come over tomorrow while Jack McCoy is at work.
I stifled a giggle.
Me: Who?
Damon: Jack McCoy with his Law and Order ass. Come see me Nick.
Me: (crying laughing emoji) Ur so dumb.
Damon: U gonna come see me?
Me: Yeah.
Him: (blowing kiss emoji)
Me: (rolling eyes emoji)
When I looked up, the car had stopped. We were in the parking lot of Travis’s condo, and he was staring at me. “What are you smiling about?” I noted the seriousness on his face as he asked the question.
I shrugged. “Just a meme on Instagram.”
He nodded slowly. “Nicky, do you understand your place in my life?”
I frowned, glanced down at the now darkened screen on my phone and back up at him. “Uh, I’m not sure what you mean.”
“I mean, do you know who I am and what that makes you?”
My frown deepened. Why was his ass speaking in riddles? “You’re Travis McClure, and I’m your fiancée? I mean, what are you talking about?”
“Right. I’m a McClure. There’s a certain status that goes along with my name. Status, and a laundry list of expectations. Do you understand that?”
I sighed and rubbed my forehead. “Is there a point to this other than you stating the obvious?” Oooo, I wanted to curse him out! Travis had this stupid habit of trying to talk to me like I was a child, and I hated that shit.
“I just need you to be clear about things, Nicky.”
I unfastened my seatbelt and turned my body to face him. “Travis, sweetie, I may not come from a lineage like yours, but I happen to be well-educated and very smart. I totally understand you’re a McClure and I definitely know who I am. I’ve been acquainted with myself for more than thirty years now, but darling, whatever you’re trying to say? You need to spit that shit out and stop beating around the bush.” My voice was sugary sweet, but my eyes were narrowed.
“You know how I feel about foul language.”
“Yes, but honey, you’re trying my patience.”
He blew out a breath. “Fine. I want my mother to handle all the wedding details hence forth.”
Who the hell says hence forth? “Since my parents are paying for it, that would be a no.”
“I don’t want them to pay for it.”
I stared at him.
“And I’m not getting married in that little church.”
I scoffed. “Well, I am.”
He shook his head. “See, this is why I asked if you understood who I am. Who my parents are—”
“Oh, I understand. And I don’t appreciate how your mother ignored mine. That was disrespectful, Travis. My parents might not be judges and lawyers, but they’re my parents, and I have a problem with the way your mother insists on looking down her nose at them. You know what? Screw this! Let’s just call the wedding off, and you go find you someone who likes being treated like a child.” I snatched the car door open and stomped toward his condo.
Behind me, I could hear a door slam shut and then rapid footsteps approaching me. “Nicky!” he yelled.
I kept going, unlocked the door, and walked inside, slamming the front door to his place so hard the wall shook a little. Making my way to his bedroom, I headed straight to the closet and began snatching clothes off hangers. Maybe it was hearing from Damon, or maybe it was that I was tired of pretending to be sugary sweet. I don’t know, but I was over Travis and the McClure family as a whole. Yeah, I wanted to be taken care of, but fuck this!
“Nicky?” he said softly, as he stood just inside the bedroom. “Are you leaving?”
I rolled my eyes. “No, I’m packing my shit for my health.”
He flinched. He really hated the “s” word and the “f” word, as he termed them, so I added, “Yes, I’m fucking leaving, Travis.”
“I’m-I’m sorry. Don’t go.”
I looked up at him. “Why the hell not? I mean, I’m obviously not good enough to be a McClure. So, to hell with it.”
“I never said that.”
“You didn’t have to, and FYI, my daddy is richer than yours. So while you wanna look down on the Stricklands, just remember that shit, okay?”
I zipped up the duffle bag haphazardly stuffed with some of my clothes and hoisted it on my shoulder. “I’ll come back for the rest of my stuff later.”
I stepped to the doorway, but he blocked me. “Please…don’t go.”
I fixed my eyes on his chest. “Nah, I’m going. I’m over this, Travis.”
He just stood there, so I raised my eyes to meet his, saw tears filling them, and softened a little. “Travis…”
“I’m sorry. It’s just—my parents put all these expectations on me and I know my mom is mad about the church but I love you and I don’t wanna lose you. I’m sorry. This is our wedding. We can do what you want.”
I dropped my shoulders. I didn’t necessarily love him, but I did care about him, and hell, I didn’t want him to cry, so I said. “Okay.”
“You’ll stay?” he asked, sounding hopeful.
I nodded. “I’ll stay, but you have to let me be me.”
He rested his hands on my arms. “Okay.”
“That means I dress the way I want.”
He nodded hesitantly. “All right.” Leaning in, he kissed me with more passion than he ever had before, and a few minutes later, I was on his bed, on my back…with his face between my legs.
11
I yawned as I flipped over on my back and opened my eyes. The phone rang in my ear for a third time before she finally answered.
“Hello?” Her voice was soft, timid, apprehensive. That wasn’t my girl’s voice on the other end of the
line. Something was wrong.
“Nick?” I replied.
“Yeah…”
“Something wrong?”
“No…”
I sat up on the side of my bed, pulling the phone from my ear to check the time. 10:00 AM. “Were you still sleep?” I asked, but she didn’t sound drowsy. She just sounded strange.
“No, I woke up early to have breakfast with Travis.”
That shit hurt, but I recovered quickly. “Okay…is he there? Is that why you’re sounding like this?”
“Like what?”
“Like…like something’s wrong.”
After a couple of seconds of silence, she said, “Things are better between me and Travis now, and I don’t want to betray him anymore.”
“Me calling you is betraying him?”
“What it could lead to is betraying him.”
I held the phone for a minute as the realization hit me that she was serious. Something in her voice told me she was actually trying to make things work with him. I mean, yeah, they’d been engaged for a while and had set a wedding date, but I never really got the impression Nicky was serious about him…until right at this moment.
Finally, I said, “Nick, you don’t wanna talk to me anymore? Ever?”
She didn’t respond, and something inside of me shifted. For all the messing around and playing we did, I loved her. I truly did.
“Nick?”
“Damon, I…”
“We can’t be friends anymore? Nothing?” My damn voice broke, and it felt like twelfth grade all over again, but that time, the pain I felt was my fault. Whose fault was it this time? Hers or mine?
“I don’t wanna lose you, Dame, but I-we can’t be around each other or talk without it leading to other things. Travis isn’t perfect, but I do care about him and I know he loves me.”
“I loved you first.”
“I-I know, but—”
I sighed. “I know, Nick. I fucked up. But damn, I get nothing? Just fuck my feelings?”
“No! Look, I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“Say I can be in your life as your friend.”
Be with Me (Strickland Sisters Book 3) Page 5