by T. K. Leigh
I don’t even have a chance to explain myself before the officers rush toward me, knocking the phone out of my hand and forcing my stomach against the floor. A knee in my back keeps me pressed down as someone else brings my wrists together, securing them with handcuffs.
It doesn’t matter that I’m not holding the weapon. That he’s closer. That my dress is covered in blood, so I could very well be injured, too. They don’t even take a moment to assess the scene. They don’t care. I’m black. He’s white.
That’s all they need to know.
Chapter Three
Weston
I glance at my watch, noting the time. Only three minutes have passed since I last checked. I’ve never been so on edge, so unable to focus. Since Londyn left about an hour ago, I’ve tried to go through the schematics one of my team members sent earlier in the week, hoping it would take my mind off my excitement — and nerves — about tonight. But nothing seems to work.
It’s a blessing in disguise that Londyn had a last-minute meeting this afternoon. Otherwise, I fear she would have noticed my excitability and grown suspicious. Her being out of the condo for a few hours gives me a chance to mentally prepare.
I never expected to be here again. Never expected I’d want to put my heart on the line. Never expected I’d meet someone I could trust with it.
But I never expected Londyn, either. She’s the most amazing, beautiful, unexpected thing to ever happen to me. And I can’t wait to start this next chapter in the story of us.
After several more minutes of staring at my tablet with little sinking in, I shove it back into my leather commuter bag, retrieving a small, black velvet box instead. Glancing out the front bay windows of Londyn’s condo to make sure she’s not home yet, I set it onto the coffee table in front of me and flip it open. My heart fills with love and anticipation when I take in the princess-cut solitaire beaming back at me.
It may be rash, considering we haven’t even been together for three months, but we have a connection. One that transcends time. One I didn’t think existed.
I stand, briefly closing my eyes, going over the words I painstakingly penned over the past several weeks. I’ve probably rehearsed this speech a dozen times by this point, but now that I’m mere hours from pouring my heart out and asking her to be my wife, I want to make sure I get this right. Londyn never got the proposal of her dreams prior to her first marriage. It’s my hope to give her everything she’s always dreamed of this time around. Not only in the proposal, but for the rest of her life.
I clear my throat, then imagine Londyn standing in front of me, her brows scrunched up in confusion about what I’m doing.
“A wise woman once told me that chaos can only truly be appreciated when you understand the calm. That without calm, there would be no chaos.”
I pause, picturing her laughing as she asks if that’s yet another one of Meemaw’s words of wisdom, to which I’ll agree it is.
“I’ve always considered myself fairly calm. Always lived my life according to all the rules I crafted for myself. I’ve never done anything rash or spontaneous.” I pause, my lips curving up in the corners. “And then you happened.” I swallow hard, emotion overwhelming me. It doesn’t matter this is merely a practice run. These feelings are real. They have been for months now. Even before she decided to take a risk on me.
“You blew into my life like a goddamn hurricane. You shattered the walls of my soul and made me look at the world in a different light. The chaos to my calm. I fought it.”
I chuckle at the memory of how much we both resisted falling for each other. Some things you just can’t fight. Like the undeniable tether pulling me toward Londyn.
“But with every second I spent with you, I knew one thing was certain. That you’re not like any woman I’ve ever met. I didn’t know what to think about what was happening between us, but I liked it, Lo. Hell, loved it. It was different and inspiring and petrifying and just so fucking perfect. I told you the night of our first kiss that I thought you were perfect for me. And over the months, that feeling has only grown stronger. You are perfect for me. And the more time we spend together, the more reasons I find that you are the love of my fucking life.”
I pause, licking my lips, picturing Londyn overwhelmed with emotion, fully aware of what I’m about to ask.
“From the very beginning, we knew this wouldn’t be easy. That we’d face challenges most couples can’t even begin to comprehend. But I said it back then and will say it again today and every day for the rest of my life. I don’t care about that. I don’t care how complicated this gets. I’ll take complicated with you over easy with someone else every day.”
I lower myself to one knee, reaching out and grabbing her imaginary hand.
“I promise to love you on your brightest of days and your darkest of nights. I promise to always protect you from your demons, both inside and out. I promise to always take care of you, even when you don’t think you’re worth the effort. I promise to be strong for you, even when you’re exhausted from carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders. But most of all, I promise to always be yours. You for me. Me for you. For the rest of our lives. If you’ll have me. So please, Londyn Jade Bennett, will you do me the absolute honor of marrying me? Of being my wife? Of completing me?”
A thrill rushes through me as I picture her barely able to form words, tears cascading down her cheeks. But she’ll still manage to squeak out a yes as she enthusiastically nods. And there isn’t a single doubt in my mind she’ll say yes. This time, I won’t allow anything to get in the way of marrying the woman of my dreams. I’ll be the man she deserves. I’ll make her a priority, instead of assuming she’ll always be there, like I did with Brooklyn.
I blow out a breath and stand, setting the ring box back onto the coffee table when a loud knocking rips through.
I tear my gaze to the door just as it flies open, slamming into the wall, Hazel storming inside. Before I have a chance to ask what’s wrong, she advances, shoving me, the unexpected assault causing me to stumble backward.
“How do you know Jay?” she shrieks, dark eyes wild, expression agitated.
“Jay?” I shake my head, baffled. “Wha—”
“How do you know him?” she repeats even louder.
“She told me about him,” I answer quickly, still confused about what this has to do with anything.
“So you knew who he was, yet didn’t say anything?” She leans into me again.
I may tower over her short, slight stature, but what she lacks in height she makes up for in determination and tenacity.
I hold up my hands defensively. “All I know is that he was a professor at her college.”
“That’s it?” Hazel shoots back as Diego darts into the condo and wraps a muscular arm around her waist, attempting to calm her down and peel her away from me. “That’s all you know about Jay? That he was a professor at her college?”
“Yes. And what he did. Other than that—”
“So you had no idea he was at your fundraiser last night?”
I open my mouth to argue that I’ve never met the man, then stop, Hazel’s statement barreling into my chest like an out-of-control train, her words knocking the wind out of me.
“What did you say?” I choke out.
Her throat bobs in a hard swallow as she nods, her eyes brimming with tears. “He was there.”
“No. That’s not possible. I know each and every person in attendance. They’re all long-time donors. Who—”
“She didn’t have time to go into detail. But she said Jay was there. Then she told me…” Her voice catches.
“What is it?” My chest heaves as I step closer.
“He attacked her.”
I dig my hands through my hair, doubling over as the truth spears straight through me. My stomach churns, the anger rising in me causing my skin to burn. But the rage isn’t solely directed at Jay. It’s also directed at myself for being too wrapped up in my life to notice anything was o
ff.
Just like I did with Brooklyn.
“Last night?”
There were times I’d noticed Londyn draw into herself, but I assumed it was due to the memories a masked ball brought forward. Never did I expect it was because I’d brought her into the lion’s den, so to speak.
But who is this Jay?
I mentally go through everyone on the guest list named Jason, none of them fitting the picture Londyn painted of this man.
“No. Today,” Hazel explains. “She called me a few minutes ago. There wasn’t enough time to get all the details. All she said was that he’d found her.”
I furrow my brows. “How? She had a meeting with a potential client on a historic renovation.” My brain spins as I try to make sense out of everything. “Where is she now? Is she okay?”
Hazel looks from me to Diego. He nods, and she returns her gaze to mine. “She said she shot him. Then she said to tell you she was sorry right before…”
“Before what?” I press, my world spinning out of control. I want to pinch myself and wake up from this nightmare.
“I can’t be sure, but I heard a commotion in the background. Sounded like someone shouted Atlanta PD. Then there was a struggle with more shouting before the line went dead. As much as I want to hope otherwise, there’s no doubt in my mind. She was arrested. Which would explain why she didn’t answer when I repeatedly tried to call her back.”
“Why would they arrest her? If he attacked her, I don’t—”
“This may be a difficult concept for you to wrap your privileged head around, Weston, but the criminal justice system isn’t too kind to people who look like us.” She gestures between her and Diego. It doesn’t take a genius for me to figure out she’s referring to their Hispanic heritage. “And it’s really bad to people who look like Londyn.”
“Fuck!”
My anger getting the better of me, I turn from her and slam my fist into the wall, but not hard enough to do any permanent damage. At least not to the wall. I shake out my hand, the pain a welcome distraction to everything else.
“That’s why I barged in. I saw your car outside and came to get some answers about who Jay is.”
“I have no idea who it could be.” I blow out a breath and stare into space for a moment, fixating on the small, black box sitting prominently on the coffee table.
“Oh, my god,” Hazel breathes, following my line of sight. “Is that…”
“It is,” I answer, swallowing hard.
“May I?” She walks toward the box, and I nod. She picks it up, her motions slow and delicate. When she cracks the lid, she inhales a shaky breath. “Oh, Wes. It’s stunning.”
“I’d planned to ask her to marry me tonight,” I admit wistfully. “In the intersection where we first met.”
She admires the ring for a few more seconds before closing the box and setting it back down. Then she grabs my hands, giving them a reassuring squeeze. “And you’ll still be able to do that. I refuse to believe Londyn went through everything she has, that she’s survived everything she has, just for this to destroy her future.”
I pull away from her and pace. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this helpless before. Even when I watched the woman I thought I was going to marry slide the ring off her finger and hand it back to me. I knew there was nothing I could do to convince her to stay, and it gutted me. But that was nothing compared to this.
It’s moments like these I wish Gampy were still alive. He’d know what to do.
“I reached out to a few of my buddies on the force,” Diego offers, as if able to read my thoughts. “They said they won’t know anything until she’s booked and in the system.”
“And when I called headquarters, they were less than helpful,” Hazel adds. “Pretty much told me all I could do was wait for her to be allowed to make a phone call and hope she called me.”
“We’re not fucking waiting,” I grit out through the frustration building in my throat. I attempt to slow down my racing mind, needing to think clearly about what I need to do. But I’m so far from thinking rationally right now, it’s laughable.
“Do you know any good lawyers?” Diego asks, half-joking, half-serious.
I’m about to tell him the only lawyers I’ve had any dealings with in the past have been real estate or corporate attorneys. Then I stop myself, recalling my run-in with an old friend several months ago. A woman who Gampy influenced enough to make her want to follow in his footsteps and become an attorney. And not just any attorney. One who also volunteers her time for the Innocence Foundation.
Gampy may not be around to help, but I feel Sophia is the next best thing.
Dashing toward my bag, I retrieve my wallet, flipping through it for her business card.
Once I find it, I grab my phone and punch in her personal number she scribbled on the back of the card. I pray she answers, even though she won’t recognize my number and it’s a holiday. After the third ring, I expect it to click over to voicemail. Instead, she answers.
“Sophia Mercer.”
“Sophia,” I breathe.
“Yes…,” she draws out. “May I ask who’s calling?” Her tone is sweet, yet still polished.
“Weston Bradford. Wes.”
“Wes,” she exhales, her voice transitioning from professional to more familiar. “I was wondering if you were ever going to get in touch. Truth be told, I gave up hope of hearing from you after Thanksgiving.”
“I apologize for not reaching out sooner,” I admit through my agitation.
“What’s wrong?”
It doesn’t matter that we haven’t spent any meaningful time together since we were teenagers. She can still sense when things aren’t quite right.
“I didn’t know who else to call.”
“It’s okay,” she assures me, her tone awash with sympathy. “Just tell me what’s going on.”
“Do you remember the woman I introduced you to when we ran into each other? Londyn?”
“Your interior designer, right?”
“Actually, she’s my girlfriend.”
“I had a feeling. Now tell me what happened.”
“I don’t even know where to begin…” I try to organize my thoughts as best I can. “Long story short, we think she was just arrested. I don’t have a lot of information, but Londyn called her neighbor, Hazel.” I gesture for her to come closer, putting my phone on speaker. “About five years ago, Londyn was…” I trail off, my stomach tightening at the mere thought. “She was raped by a professor at her college. Said his name was Jay. No charges were ever filed, not for lack of trying, but that’s a story for a different day. Apparently, this Jay was also at the fundraiser I hosted last night.
“She never said anything about him being there, so I never suspected anything was amiss. We stayed at the hotel last night. Earlier today, she told me she’d gotten a request from a potential client to meet with her about a historic renovation. Also nothing out of the ordinary for her. So when Hazel and Diego, Londyn’s neighbors, came over to tell me they believe she’s been arrested, I was surprised.”
“Why do they believe she’s been arrested?”
“When she called me, she said Jay found her,” Hazel pipes up. “That he attacked her and she shot him. Then I heard loud voices in the background, one of them shouting Atlanta PD. We tried calling around to find out what happened, but didn’t get far.”
“It’s going to be okay,” Sophia reassures in the same soothing voice I’d heard my gampy use when talking to his own clients and their families. “I’ll call around to some of my contacts to see what I can find out. Just give me a few hours to work on this. In the meantime, if she calls you, find out everything you can. Where she is, what she’s being booked for, anything. I don’t want you to worry. I need you to stay calm and focused. I understand it’s a ridiculous request, that you probably feel like your world has been turned upside down, but I promise to get you answers.”
“Thank you, Sophia. I can’t tell you how much I appre
ciate this.”
“No need to thank me, Wes. This is what your gampy would have done. I’ll be in touch soon.”
Blowing out a long breath, I end the call, staring at the wall, my eyes glossing over a display of photos of the most important people in Londyn’s life. Up until a few months ago, it was mostly comprised of Londyn, Hazel, and Diego, with a few older photos of Londyn and her mother during her childhood. But some have been replaced with selfies we’ve taken together, as well as pictures of Londyn with my niece, Imogene, and my sister, Julia. Our little family.
“Who is Jay?” I mutter under my breath, partly to Londyn’s photo, partly to myself, wracking my brain for someone at last night’s gala whose name is Jason and who is also a college professor.
As I continue sorting through every introduction, every handshake, every conversation, a queasiness overtakes me. I blink, placing my hand on the table to steady myself, my breathing becoming uneven. It can’t be. Can it? Am I to blame for this? Did I not only bring Londyn into the lion’s den, but feed her to the lion himself?
I try to convince myself I’m overreacting, that there has to be another explanation, but I can’t ignore the fact that my brother-in-law, Nick, fits that description. At one time, he was a college professor. His first name isn’t Jason, but his last name does start with a J. Wouldn’t Londyn have said something, though?
I fear I already know the answer to that.
A ringing breaks through my thoughts, but it’s not my normal tone. I glance at Diego as he looks down at his screen, his eyes lighting up. He taps the phone, bringing it to his ear.
“What did you find out?”
I furrow my brow, pinning Hazel with a questioning stare.
“He called down to the fire station after we got nowhere with the police. Asked if anyone knew of any calls for a gunshot wound. Figured that might help us determine who Jay is.”
I nod, returning my eyes to the wall of photos as more and more incidents from the previous night rush back. How Londyn immediately stiffened and clung to me when I introduced her to Nick. How she choked on her Champagne when Julia mentioned he’d been working on a book about Greek mythology.