Mr. & Mrs. Wright: A BWWM Romance (Wright Brothers Series Book 2)

by Stevens, Camilla

  Alex groaned and threw his head back. “You know, you think you can escape those years when you act out, then it comes right back to bite you in the ass...or cock as may be the case,” he said raising his glass, starting to feel the whiskey go to work.

  Michael marinated on that a bit. “I’m guessing I probably had a small part to play in that,” he said. “I probably wasn’t the world’s greatest older brother.”

  Alex raised his head and opened one eye in surprise. “Well, I’m guessing I didn’t make it easy on you either, being the pain in the ass I was. Then of course there was the whole my being conceived, putting a little wrinkle in your mom’s marriage to dad and all.”

  Michael rested his elbows on his knees and pondered that, eventually finishing off his glass. He poured some more then motioned for Alex to bring his glass over for a top-off. Then he raised his glass.

  “To shitty brothers?”

  “...and shitty dads,” Alex added, causing Michael to laugh so loud the somber quietude of the bar was rudely interrupted, as their fellow patrons made well known withe their scowls of disapproval.

  “But we can’t really blame him for all our faults. After all, we are our own men.”

  “We can blame him for some of it,” Alex said.

  “People change though. You certainly have. I have to say, I’m impressed with what you’ve done with your life.”

  Alex gave him a searching look, then nodded, accepting the compliment. “It was about to get even better until...” he looked down into his glass, then took a long swig.

  “Yeah,” Michael said, not needing Alex to finish the thought. “Well, what do you need to do to fix it? Forget about the photo, if she cares about you, she’ll get over that. I’m going to go out on a limb and say she wasn’t surprised it existed in the first place?” he said with wry grin.

  Alex laughed and shook his head. “In more ways than you can imagine, bro,” he said.

  Michael held up a hand laughing, feeling the whiskey start to hit him. “Okay, I don’t need details. So what’s the issue?”

  Alex sighed. “At first nothing. She completely stuck by me, one hundred percent,” he said looking down into his glass with a smile of pride. “It was...it meant something that someone actually had a little faith in me, you know?”

  Michael gave him a rueful smile, finally getting a little peek into his little brother’s psyche. Michael had always been the responsible one. Alex was the party boy, the fuck up.

  “But I guess there’s only so many times you can have your boyfriend’s dick sent to you by an old fling—not even a fling, just some nobody—before you start to lose faith. Now her life is completely fucked and it’s really all my fault, at least indirectly.”

  “So how do you plan on fixing it?” Michael asked.

  Alex shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve tried calling and texting, even going to—”

  “Stop it,” Michael said in a voice so stern it startled Alex into momentary sobriety. “You know what you need to do. What does she want?”

  “I don’t know,” Alex said, giving in to the whiskey again to wallow in self-pity.

  “Yes you do,” Michael urged. “What does she want?”

  Alex looked into his glass with a frown. Then it hit him. He knew exactly how to fix this.

  Michael saw the change in his expression and raised his glass. “Atta boy.”

  Alex gave a grudging smile and rolled his eyes up to his brother’s. “So what are you going to do?”

  “Oh ye of little faith,” Michael said, pouring himself some more whiskey, “My wheels are already in motion. The one hitch is the lady herself.”

  Alex laughed, “Good luck! If she’s anything like my lady, you have quite the tough nut to crack.”

  “The Jefferson women are a stubborn lot, aren’t they?” Michael mused, sipping on his whiskey.

  “But so much fun,” Alex grinned taking a sip himself.

  “Indeed,” Michael nodded, smiling into his glass. Then he raised his glass again toward his brother. “To the Jefferson women, may the fun never end.”

  “That sounds auspicious,” Alex said before raising his glass and clinking it against his brother’s. “But hey, if I end up with Brooklyn for the rest of my life...I’m in for a thrilling ride.”

  “Now who’s being auspicious,” Michael said, “Though I do have to admit, going through life with London doesn’t sound half bad.”

  “I suppose the first step is for us to introduce them to our family,” Michael said, ominously.

  “Well, they already have a pretty good idea about Richard the Great,” Alex laughed.

  Michael joined him, shaking his head. “So then I guess that leaves our mothers.”

  They both looked up at each other in a moment of sober contemplation. “Oh boy,” they both said, simultaneously taking an extra large gulp of whiskey.

  * * *

  By the time they finished the bottle of whiskey, Michael wasn’t sure who needed a designated escort home more, Alex or him. Being the oldest of the two, and the initiator of this little tête-à-tête, he ordered the taxi to head to Alex’s place first.

  “We should do this more often,” Alex slurred next to him.

  “Hopefully under better circumstances,” Michael responded.

  As they reached Alex’s place, he looked over at Michael. “Good luck, big brother.”

  “Same to you, little brother.”

  Alex nodded and unsteadily got out of the cab. After he closed the door, Michael had the driver wait until he actually made it through the front door of his building.

  Alex took two steps then quickly turned around and knocked on the window, encouraging Michael to open the window.

  “Tulips,” he said, slightly slurred. “Trust me.” He gave a wink then made his way to the front of his building.

  Michael fell back into his seat and stared at the ceiling. “Tulips.”

  Chapter 30

  What are you doing here?”

  London watched as her sister made her way to the front stoop of where their grandmother lived.

  “She called and asked me to walk her to church today since you couldn’t,” Brooklyn said with a suspicious tone.

  “Funny,” London said, slowly realizing that they had both been conned, “she said the same thing to me.”

  The front door opened and there was the woman herself, Lucille Jefferson. “There are my grandbabies,” she sang out, “Come on inside and give your grandma some sugar.”

  “I thought we were going to church,” London said, crossing her arms and standing her ground.

  Lucille crossed her arms and leaned on the door frame, giving London a wry look. “Based on what you two have been through this week I think something a little stronger than the Holy Spirit is in order, don’t you?”

  Brooklyn laughed next to her, then shrugged and skipped up the stairs. London was a little less enthused. She was feeling a bit better today, but that didn’t mean she appreciated being lured out of bed under pretense.

  “Are you going to stand there and be mad at me all day? Or maybe you’d rather go to church with your daddy instead?”

  That was enough to prod her up the stairs. She’d much rather face whatever her grandmother had in mind than deal with her father’s scrutiny. No doubt he was already wondering why she was skipping yet another Sunday at church.

  Lucille put her arm around London comfortingly. “Now don’t be mad at grandma, honey. I’ve got some nice sherry waiting for both of you so we can have a nice little chat.”

  London wasn’t sure how she felt about the “chat” part, but anything with alcohol didn’t sound too bad right about now, even if it was sherry.

  Lucille sat both of them down at the little table in her kitchen area and poured both of them a glass of sherry. Then she sat down across from them and looked first from one then to the other.

  London immediately began sipping, avoiding eye contact.

  “Well, I can see I have my
work cut out with this one,” her grandmother said, giving London the eye. “So let’s start with you sweetheart,” she said turning to Brooklyn.

  “What?” Brooklyn said shrugging and rolling her eyes.

  “Don’t ‘what’ me?” Lucille chided. “What’s going on with you and your Mr. Lincoln Town Car?”

  Brooklyn gave a slight smile at the nickname, remembering her first weekend with Alex. Then the past two weeks came rushing back and she frowned into her glass. “It’s complicated,” she mumbled.

  “Complicated is good,” her grandmother said, “It means there’s actually something worth fighting for. And based on what I’ve seen, you’ve got a lot—and I do mean a lot—to fight for.”

  Brooklyn spat out her sherry. “You didn’t!”

  “Honey, half of Twitter did,” Lucille replied.

  London kept her mouth firmly planted on the edge of her glass as she looked back and forth between the two. It would have been amusing to watch Brooklyn’s mouth open and close like a fish out of water…if London didn’t know her turn was coming next.

  “So what’s this complication?” Lucille prodded, moving on.

  Brooklyn took a long swig of sherry before answering. Finally she sighed. “There’s this girl—”

  “Has that boy been runnin’ around on you?” Lucille interjected, frowning at Brooklyn.

  “Well, no. Of course not,” Brooklyn said in surprise.”I mean, I don’t think so….”

  “You don’t think so?” Lucille prodded

  Brooklyn thought about it for a quick second and London could see her coming to some sort of conclusion. She shook her head furiously and replied. “No, I’m sure of it.”

  Their grandmother settled back down in her seat, calming down. “So what has this ‘girl’ done?” she asked.

  “Just ruined everything!” Brooklyn finally cried. “My job, my art. She just won’t leave me alone!”

  Their grandmother reached across the table to take Brooklyn’s hand. “And what has your man done to stop this?”

  Brooklyn looked away guiltily and subtly disengaged her hand from underneath her grandmothers. “I haven’t spoken to him in a while.”

  “I see,” Lucille said. “Brooklyn, there are always going to be outside forces trying to tear you apart, especially with the man you”—she turned to London as well—”and you, have both chosen.Wether it’s race, politics, money, or just plain jealousy, you can’t let every little troll out there make you think twice about your relationship, not if you want any chance of making it work.”

  “I’ll take it that you’ve been blaming him for all of this?” Lucille asked, taking a sip of sherry.

  Brooklyn shot a pair of blazing eyes back at her grandmother. “Well, it is his fault! Sort of anyway.”

  Lucille just sat there idly sipping her sherry while Brooklyn ranted. Finally, she stopped her granddaughter.

  “It’s funny. Growing up all I heard from you was ‘I want to be an artist this’ and ‘I can’t wait to be an artist that,’ Then you go off to that school and do your art thing and...nothing. You take a job that you hate. But then you go and find yourself a Mr. Town Car and all of a sudden it’s art, art, art again. But I guess it’s his fault that your little plans went awry.”

  She said all this while leisurely staring out of the kitchen window. “Of course that’s none of my business,” she added taking another sip.

  London felt herself smiling, but hid it behind her glass of sherry that was quickly being drained.

  “But...” Brooklyn frowned at her grandmother, not knowing what to say.

  “But nothing,” said Lucille, “I don’t see what some brazen, meddling, little hussy”—both sisters stared at her in shock at their grandmother’s language—“yes, I said it, hussy,” she confirmed,”has to do with you and your man.”

  Brooklyn’s frown deepened as she shot the entire glass of sherry down her throat.

  “That’s right,” Lucille soothed. “Drink up baby. It’ll get you nice and frisky, maybe make you think about going out there and getting your man back. Because, based on what I saw...there’s a lot worth getting back.”

  Brooklyn barked out a laugh. London cringed. How in the world had Daddy been a product of this woman?

  “Don’t you go giving me that look, London,” Lucille said, turning her attention to her oldest granddaughter.

  “Who knew Ms. Thang had it in her? And here I thought Brooklyn was the wild child. But look at you, running off to Europe, swimming around in nothing but a—”

  “Yes, grandma, we all saw the photos!” London said with an exasperated sigh.

  Lucille just laughed merrily. Brooklyn poured herself some more Sherry as she joined in.

  “Oh honey,” Lucille said, taking London’s now empty glass and pouring some more. “You know I’m just teasing you. But I have a pretty good idea how you reacted.”

  She handed the glass back to London. “Let me guess, hiding out in your apartment, hoping it will all go away. Have you even spoken to him since you came back? Because I know you haven’t let him anywhere near you, so worried the press might see you two together.”

  London just glared at her grandmother, not bothering to answer. Instead she took another sip. How did she know her so well?

  “London, you’ve always been a fighter...for everyone else. I’ve seen you in action, even when you were a little girl, and people were picking on someone else. You’re probably the main reason my son’s firm has done so well, and you secretly know it. But you shrivel up like a wilted flower when it comes to fighting for yourself.

  “Like Brooklyn you also have a good man, but you won’t for long if you keep pushing him off every time things get nasty. It’s time you started fighting for yourself, especially when there’s someone there to stand by your side.”

  London knew there was some truth to her grandmother’s words. How in the world was the woman so damn perceptive? Lucille must have seen it in London’s face.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” she chided with a smug smile. “Grandma is all seeing and all knowing.”

  “If you must know, I’ve just been sick,” London said. “I’m sure you’ll blame it on me not ‘fighting’ this mess, but I’m just tired...so, so tired. And achy and dizzy and getting sick over the weirdest things like smells. So give me a break. Is it okay with you if I maybe get over this bug before I start putting on the boxing gloves and taking on the worl—”

  “How do your breasts feel?” Lucille interrupted, with a sharp look.

  London’s eyes widened in surprise. “Listen, grandma, I know you and Brooklyn have this libertine sort of relationship where you can discuss anything, but—”

  “Just answer the question, sweetheart,” Lucille said. The look on her face leaving no room for further debate.

  “Well, they’re a bit tender but that’s just because I’m overdue for my period—” She stopped and gasped.

  “Mmm hmm,” Lucille said, gradually taking the glass of sherry that was halfway up to London’s lips out of her hand.

  “No!” London said.

  “Maybe,” Lucille said with a smile and one raised eyebrow.

  Brooklyn looked back and forth between the two. Lucille shot her a wink and a wider smile. It took her all of two seconds to catch on.

  “Oh my god!” she squealed, jumping out of her chair to reach over and take her older sister in a bear hug.

  London just stared dumbly at her grandmother.

  “All the more reason to fight, London.” Lucille said, winking again and taking a sip of her sherry.

  Chapter 31

  Brooklyn had spent all last night reveling in the idea that she was (maybe?) about to be an aunt again. She was in high school when Cleveland’s boys were born and thus hadn’t been able to experience the full glory of that role. It would be so much fun having a baby in the family again. Her father would no doubt blow a gasket—especially since that baby would also be a Wright. Hopefully, London and Michael
would work things out.

  That thought made her laugh a bit as she skipped into Joe on the Go Monday morning. Frankly, her father could use a bit of loosening up when it came to the Wrights. All the better to let London soften the blow for when it was Brooklyn’s turn. She thought about babies with Alex, then immediately dismissed the idea.

  First, she had to make up with the man.

  All these thoughts went up in smoke as she walked through the front door of the coffee shop…and saw the completely bare walls.

  “What the hell!” she yelled, causing the line of customers waiting for their orders to turn to her in surprise. She didn’t care as her immediate thoughts went to one “brazen, meddling hussy.”

  She pushed through the early morning crowd to reach Jenny, behind the cash register. “Who worked this weekend?” she asked. Jenny nodded over to Nina who was refilling the canisters of milk and cream.

  “Nina,” Brooklyn said, rushing over as she grabbed her apron and threw it on. “Was my artwork sold this weekend?”

  Nina rolled her eyes to the ceiling, thinking in that irritatingly slow manner she did everything in life. “Oh yeah, it was a really big deal. Jesse said you’d be pleased.”

  Jesse, not David, was the weekend manager and likely had no idea that there was one person in the world who most certainly should not be able to purchase her work.

  “Did you see if it was a woman or a man who bought it?”

  Nina stared at her for a beat and Brooklyn wanted to shake her. “A man,” she said. “Yes, definitely a man.”

  “Are you sure?” Brooklyn, asked. Knowing Nina, she had to double check.

  “Brooklyn, I know the difference between a man and a woman,” she said rolling her eyes.

  That caused Brooklyn to calm down only a bit. A man? She immediately thought of Alex. “Did you see what he looked like?”

  “Some old guy,” Nina shrugged, going back to pouring the milk and cream.

  “Old?” Brooklyn asked, surprised. “As in, not mid-twenties?” Alex was only 26 years old.