“What does this mean?”
“I want to go.”
“To do what?”
“It’s a college. So clearly, to go to college.”
“They’re not even a division one school.” He shakes his head dismissively.
“No, they’re not. But they have a good basketball team. I’ll play, but I’m not looking to go pro anymore.”
His mouth drops open and the paper in his hand flutters to the ground. I bend to pick it up and sit back down on the chair and face him. His hand is covering his mouth and his eyes have a vacant look in them.
“You’ve always wanted to play. You love basketball.”
“No… I don’t. I’m really good at it. I win. If I practice, I’m the best player on the court, but I don’t love it.”
“I don’t know what to say.” His face is pale, and I feel a pang of worry. I reach over and touch his shoulder to reassure him.
“Pops, I still want to work for the family. I just want to do something more meaningful than make money.”
“Athletes make a difference. They use their money for good. They build schools, and hospitals…” he trails off, his eyes losing focus again.
“I already have money. I can do those things without basketball. But if I play basketball, I won’t get to do the one thing money can’t buy. I want to practice law. I want to make a difference that way.”
“Your mother’s going to lose her mind when you tell her.” I nearly sag with relief at the acquiescence in his tone.
“She doesn’t have a say. I have my own money and I am not asking for permission.”
“No, what you’re asking for is a shit storm.”
“Will you support me? If you do, she won’t say no.”
He looks down at the letter and then back at me. “You do something that’s a credit to our name, and I will support you. That’s always been the rule. If you are part of this family, then you’ve got to act like it. And convince your mother.”
“She’ll be fine,” I say even though I fully expect her to lose her shit when I show her the acceptance letter.
“And so will you.” He hands it over to me. “People leave. People look out for themselves. You’re making a choice now, one that is all about what you want. You’ll meet someone else.”
“I love her,” I say without hesitation.
His head jerks backward in surprise. His eyes narrow and I see a flash of anger in them.
“Don’t be stupid,” he barks, glaring down at me in the way that used to intimidate me when I was a boy. But, I’m not that boy anymore.
I meet his glare with one of my own. “Only stupid thing I’ve done is to lie to her.”
He shakes his head and rests back in his seat. He looks so tired and I instantly feel bad for putting this on him.
“These youthful, passion-filled liaisons are nothing but a pathway to pain and tragedy. That’s not how you live up to the things your family expects of you. Your story is already written, son. You have great things ahead of you.”
“I don’t know… She made me feel… feel a lightness, Pops, that I’d never felt before.”
“Legends aren’t born to live light lives.” His voice is full of reproach.
“You know my nickname?” I ask in surprise.
“Just because I don’t hang out on the basketball court doesn’t mean I don’t know what’s going on. It’s fitting. You are destined to be great, Remi. And you’ve got to accept the sacrifices that come with that. You’ve got so much of everything. In ways your father didn’t. You’ve got staying power that he didn’t.”
I start at that. “Pops, why do you say things like that? He died. That’s hardly a failure.”
My grandfather shakes his head like he’s trying to dislodge something.
“Before he died, he stopped trying. He stopped putting the family first. You forget that so much of our responsibility is your family, Remi. Men like us can’t be focused on our own desires. You will taste the kind of success that most people can’t even imagine. That isn’t free. My father came here with nothing. You think you live in this house because he followed his heart or his dick?”
“It’s not that—”
“You’re eighteen. Of course, it is.”
He stands up. “I’m happy to support law school because it’s a noble profession. But I will not support you chasing after a girl who didn’t even have the decency to say goodbye.”
The truth of that stings. I clench my jaw and look away from his steely, triumphant gaze. He sighs and reaches over to put one of his huge hands on my shoulder.
“Joni’s going to apply early decision to Georgetown. Pursue that. Someone who understands the demands, the obligations that come with a family like ours. Not everyone is cut out for it. Not everyone can do what it takes to preserve it. It takes an iron stomach and the willingness to sacrifice. You’ll see, son, one day. You’ll look back and know that her leaving was one of the best things to happen to you.”
My insides feel like they’re mangled together in my gut.
“I can’t imagine a day where that will be true.”
“You won’t have to imagine. It will come,” he says with a certainty I know he really feels.
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small velvet drawstring bag. He tugs it open and empties it into his upturned palm and holds it out to me.
In his palm is a gold signet ring with a horse on its face.
“This was your father’s. We got it back after he died When you take the helm, it will be yours. You will wear it with pride. And you will honor your family’s name.”
Part II
The In Between
6 YEARS LATER
HOUSTON, TX
Chapter 15
DONE
REMI
* * *
“I can’t believe she’s here,” Joni says as I step into the open door of our hotel room. I walk over to the California King-sized bed in the middle of the huge room and fall backward onto the white comforter.
“I can’t believe it either.” I stare up at the ceiling and try to gather my thoughts. They’ve been racing at the same clip as my heart since I saw the name, Kalilah Greer, on the seating chart outside the reception room where Regan’s rehearsal dinner is being held tonight.
Well, actually Joni saw it. And per usual, the minute the subject of Kal comes up, Joni lost her cool. If only she knew the half of it, she might actually lose her entire mind.
There hasn’t been a single day since the last time I saw her that I haven’t imagined what it would be like to see her again. Part of me had given up hope that it would ever happen.
I had no clue where she was. Besides one random picture where she was in the background that Regan found on Facebook three years ago, there’s been zero proof she was even still alive. I didn’t even know where to start looking.
She is, by far, the person who holds the strongest place in my memories. And not just because of the drama of that last night. From the moment I met her, she and I belonged to each other. And not knowing where she was has been a special kind of torture.
My life has taken me on a journey I never imagined and I have met all types of people. I’ve learned that people like Kal, interesting and introspective, brave while also being kind and generous, funny and smart, are like needles in a haystack.
I miss her the way I imagine I would miss my right arm if it was gone. I chuckle at a memory from that summer.
“Share the joke?” Joni says a moment before she lies down next to me. When she drops her head on my shoulder, I want to sit up.
“It’s nothing,” I say.
“Nothing. It’s never nothing when it comes to her.” Joni’s voice is full of suspicion. It’s been there since that night, early on in our relationship, when I called Kal’s name when we were fucking.
I lied and said I had no idea where that came from, she’d believed me. But, she brings it up every time we argue. From the look on her face now, we’re
about to have a doozy of a fight.
“What is it about her?” She sits up and peers down at me and I sit up, too.
“What are you talking about?” I ask wearily.
“I mean, it’s been years since you’ve seen her and I get the impression that for you, it feels like yesterday.”
I sigh and get off the bed.
“Let’s not do this right now. I’ve been traveling all day and had to share a car from the airport with your half-dressed, drunk for no reason colleagues. I am not in the mood, Joni.”
“Sorry, my friends aren’t all social justice crusaders or whatever you’ve become, but they’re fun. And I think you could use some of that. I want you to have a good time. I swear I don’t think you’re happy to see me at all.” Her eyes pool with tears and her lower lip trembles.
God, anything but tears. I can’t fucking stand them. Not from her. Not when she’s weaponized them so expertly.
I stare around the room and try to pick my words carefully. I feel guilty because I know—that in my heart—I haven’t done right by her at all. But, outwardly, by action and deed, I’ve been nothing but the model boyfriend. “Let’s not argue.”
“I’m not arguing, Remington,” she drawls, but there’s a sharpness in her voice that makes a lie out of her words.
“Good…” I bend down to grab my bag and throw it on the bed.
She crawls over and plants a kiss on my lips.
Shit. She’s not wrong. Seeing Kal’s name on the board sent me back in time. Just now when she kissed me, I tasted those cinnamon candies Kal was always sucking on.
“I’m going to get dressed for dinner. Want to watch?” she asks and without waiting for me to respond, she slips out of bed and starts to strip. I lean back and watch.
And of course, as my girlfriend prances around in her lace bra and panties, my mind leaps back six years to Kal’s plain white panties and bra and how much I enjoyed peeling them away from her beautiful body.
Fuck. This is going to be an interesting weekend and not in a good way. The timing of this is fucked. Our relationship is basically over. Unfortunately, I’m starting to realize that only one of us seems to see things that way.
That one of us being me.
I look at her for a moment, just to take her in. Her dark hair spills in perfectly styled waves around her heart-shaped face. Her dark eyes are round, lushly lashed and her mouth is as lush and red as a tender rosebud. She’s beautiful, poised, polished, accomplished, and ambitious. She’s everything I should want. And yet, being with her has always felt like settling.
It’s not that I’m better than her or smarter than her, or even nicer than her.
It’s just… she’s kind of an asshole. A lot of people would say the same about me. Maybe it’s true. But, no fucking way do I want to date myself.
And despite her vehement and frequent declarations of love, I’m not convinced.
Not that it really matters if she loves me.
I certainly don’t love her.
When we got together in college. She was a completely different person. She seemed relaxed and happy, not uptight and worried about appearances. She’d even expressed her regret at how she’d treated some of the girls back in Rivers Wilde. We started hanging out and then we started dating. Our families were ecstatic, so we just fell into place. Turns out, that regret she expressed, that was just a phase.
I chose to stay in DC for law school, and she chose to come back to Houston. At first, the distance was cool.
My first year in law school was brutal. I had very little free time. And I spent all of it on planes flying to see her. Every fundraiser, every opening night, every gala, she wanted me there. It was stressful, but it was fine.
Until Joni fashioned herself the leader of a clique of former debutantes turned full-fledged divas in Houston. She sits on boards, holds fundraisers, gives speeches, volunteers at a children’s hospital.
But, she loves doing it under a spotlight. Every moment is captured on social media. It was like her entire life was a show.
Every time I was in town, there was a small note about it in the Houston Chronicle style section. I hate it. I’m a private man. I don’t live my life on the pages of the style section the way some people do. If I ever seek the spotlight, it’s to use my platform to shed light on an important cause.
The public scrutiny—were we holding hands when someone snapped us walking through the Galleria?—started to wear on me. Attention, that in my youth, had been flattering, started to wear thin.
I like being able to go grocery shopping without being accosted for a selfie. I don’t enjoy having my so-called love life scrutinized by a bunch of self-appointed journalists armed with iPhones and immediate access to the Internet. I didn’t sign up for that.
Six months ago, things started going downhill and fast.
She started acting like we were on the verge of being engaged. She joined forces with my mother to try and pressure me into marriage. I’m only 24, that’s not on the cards for a long time, if ever.
Six months ago, my mother flew to DC for work and came by my Massachusetts Avenue apartment to give me my grandmother’s ring.
“Remember that this is bigger than you. Use this when you’re ready,” she’d said when she pressed the three-carat emerald-cut diamond into my palm.
By that, she meant right away.
This morning when I was leaving for the airport, she called to remind me to take the ring with me. I left it right where it was.
It’s not that I’ll never be ready, but she’s not the woman I’m going to put my ring on.
No matter how badly I want to please my family—I won’t be frog-marched down a wedding aisle and spend my life with a woman who is as vindictive, shallow, and dishonest as Joni.
I hope my mother will understand.
I laugh at my wishful thinking. I know better.
She won’t understand.
But it doesn’t matter. My life is going to be built on something more meaningful than a convenient marriage.
I want to make a difference. I take my career seriously.
It doesn’t help me look like a serious attorney when People magazine is reporting on what it means if Joni and I aren’t holding hands when we stroll through the mall.
And the truth, at this point, my career has become more important to me than she is.
I will admit that when I realized we were not going to work out, I was disappointed.
I am trying to build a serious career, I also hoped to build a serious relationship with someone who might share my views on giving back and being a voice for the voiceless.
Joni, I’ve realized, too late, only likes what the attention does for her.
Kal reappearing just as I’ve made that decision feels like a sign, a crossroads, telling me exactly where I need to go now. I’ve never stopped wanting her, even when I gave up ever having her.
I’m not one to wallow in regret. I’ve had plenty of disappointments and setbacks. I never see them as failures, I see them as me being given an opportunity to learn something.
But, when I think about Kal and the way things ended, I feel like a failure.
I spent a summer convincing her that she could trust me, convincing her that I trusted her. And then, in one night, I ruined it, and hurt her profoundly. All because I thought… well, I thought like an eighteen-year-old with poor judgment and not quite enough courage.
If I had explained that Joni and I had been going to this event together since we were twelve and that I hadn’t even thought about it until a few weeks before the party when my mother reminded me to take my tux to the dry cleaners for a press. By then, I thought it was too late to cancel without causing a big stink and I just wanted the summer we were having to end on a happy note.
It was just one weekend. My mother told me they hadn’t been invited. Nothing should have brought Kal anywhere near my house that weekend. But, my mother figured out my plan and its fatal flaw and she went in for
the kill.
That lie I told is my biggest regret.
The biggest mistake I ever made. That, and not telling her that I loved her.
That summer, we found something special with each other. Something, we’d never find with anyone else again.
I was just a kid, but I knew it in my bones, then. I still know it, now.
“Remington, could you try not to look like you’re waiting for the executioner to drop a guillotine blade on your neck?” Joni drones as she walks over to the full-length mirror right beside the door. Her long, thin body is draped in a skintight black sequined dress that leaves nothing to the imagination.
“How do I look?” she asks and then turns her back to me so that I have a view of her perfectly round ass.
“Good,” I respond honestly, but without any real conviction. Her beautiful body isn’t enough for me, not anymore and my cock doesn’t stir.
“Good? That’s it? Remi, what’s going on? You haven’t seen me in two months and you haven’t even tried to touch me.” She crosses her arms over her chest and pouts. The evening hasn’t even started and I feel tired already.
This isn’t fair to either of us. When the wedding is over, I’ll talk to her. But for now, I want my sister to have the day she deserves, so I just smile apologetically and rub my temples.
“You look great. I just have a headache. Go on down, I’ll join you in a few minutes.”
Her eyebrows are raised in impatience. “I don’t want to walk out alone. People will think we had a fight.”
My hackles rise. “Why in the world would anyone think that? And why do we care what they think?” I stay planted firmly on the bed.
I don’t like being told what to do. Not by her and not because she wants to impress her completely unimpressive friends.
“We care because these people will be our social cohorts once you’re back in Houston.” She says this like it’s supposed to be enough of a reason.
The Rivals Page 47