Fall In Love Again (Serendipitous Love Book 3) Page 9

  “He makes your heart, among other things flutter, non?”

  I opened my eyes, slowly nodding as I sat up.

  Aunt Morgan smiled, then took another sip from her mid-day wine. “Do you see the difference, chérie? I do not understand what is wrong with you young girls these days.” She sighed, then turned to her sister. “Melissa, I think we may have cursed our children. They both seem to think the “safe” man, who looks good in a suit, but does nothing for your heart is the way to go. Charlene, with Adrian — we see where that got her — and now this Trent character. Vivienne with that disgusting Darren. Mon Dieu.” Shaking her head, Aunt Morgan shifted her attention back to me, with admonition in her eyes. “You and your cousin should consider yourselves very lucky that this is not thirty years ago, because your aunt and I are the type of women that would make a Carter and a Nixon forget that a Frenchy and a Charlie ever existed.”

  “Morgan is absolutely right, sweetheart,” my mother said, reaching forward to place a hand on my knee. “I wanted you married, not bored to death halfway across the country. And with a criminal.”

  “You liked Adrian.”

  She shook her head, holding up a finger in correction. “I liked that you seemed to be happy. You did a good job fooling your mama before, but I’ve got my eyes on you this time, and when you described Trent, girl you looked about as excited as somebody going to work the Monday after vacation. When you described Nixon though —“

  “She looked like she would orgasm on the spot, non?”

  Both women broke into a laugh as I rolled my eyes. So maybe they had a legitimate point, about choosing a “safe” guy, but what made Nixon the Holy Grail? Listing his positive qualities against the negative, the positives won by a landslide, but what did that matter when he broke my heart?

  I shook my head, thinking of the moment my aunt and mother had interrupted. The mistake they’d kept me from making. Because… no matter how charming, how sweet, how much he loved me, even now… the fact remained that he was the one who destroyed our love.

  How the hell was I supposed to forget that?

  Morgan and Melissa were still laughing at my expense, so I reached forward with my foot, nudging my mother’s leg. “Hey, mom.”

  “Yes sweetheart?” she asked, giggling as she took a sip from her glass.

  “Lorenzo asked about you.”

  I offered nothing except a satisfied smirk as she choked on her wine. That always shut her up.

  “Well, Morgan dear, time to go.”

  Melissa wouldn’t even look at me as she hurried up from her seat. Morgan was slow to join her, wearing an amused smirk as she finished her wine before she stood.

  “Mom, why do you always clam up about Lorenzo? You know that makes you look guilty, right?”

  She cocked one perfectly groomed eyebrow, propping a hand on her hip. “Little girl, guilty about what? My business is mine — and your business is mine too, before you come back with a smart remark. I have no interest in that… casanova. That’s that.”

  “I guess she told you,” Morgan quipped, snapping her fingers as she laughed.

  “She did, didn’t she?” I giggled with my aunt, earning us both an eye roll as my mother headed for the door. We said our goodbyes, and just before I closed the door behind them, Aunt Morgan peeked her head in one last time.

  “My dear Charlene,” she said, grabbing my hand. “Please call that young man back. When he hugged me… my goodness… that is a lot of man. It would be such a shame to—“

  “Bye Aunt Morgan.”

  I could hear them laughing on the other side as I shut the door, locking it behind them. Now that they were gone, I took a long, hot shower. After dealing with Adrian, then Nixon, and then the wonder-twins, I was mentally and emotionally fatigued in a way that few things would fix. Sleep, shower, sex, social drinking, or sisters. Sex was out, so the other four would have to make do.

  When I stepped out of the shower, my buzzing phone notified me that I’d received a text. When I picked it up… I couldn’t decide if I was surprised or not that it was from Nixon.

  “What time should I swing by again? – This muthafucker …#1”

  Oh, I should probably change his name since we called a truce and said we were friends.

  “Try NEVER.”

  “It’s like that, baby? - This muthafucker …#1”

  “Yes, Nix. You and I both know that what almost happened earlier would have only been an unnecessary complication to our friendship and working relationship.”

  I gave myself a mental pat on the back, proud of my polite, professional response as I sat down on the edge of the bed, going into my contact settings to change Nix’s name to something a little less… petty.

  “Speak for yourself, honeybun. I’m trying to see if you’ve still got it or not. Amongst other things. – Friend.”

  “What does that even mean?”

  “It means I wanna taste you. I want thatsweetness of yours on my face. Like icing. Remember? - Friend.”

  Have mercy.

  My thighs clenched involuntarily as I read that message a few more time, with his voice in my head.

  “You know you want that too. - Friend.”

  “You want me to kiss it. - Friend.”

  “Lick it. - Friend.”

  “Devour you. - Friend.”

  “Make you squirm. - Friend.”

  “Make you scream. - Friend.”

  “Make you pass out. - Friend.”

  “Do you remember that time? - Friend.”

  “ *correction. Couple of times… a week. - Friend.”

  “Nixon…”

  “Yes, baby? - Friend.”

  “I’m… damnit, you know I’m seeing someone.”

  “Fuck him. - Friend.”

  I scowled at the screen, then tapped out a new message, sent it, and sat back with a smirk.

  “Is that a demand?”

  “Charlie…. - Friend.”

  “Don’t get that dude punched in his mouth. - Friend.”

  “He’s lucky I haven’t already done it. - Friend.”

  “I promised that shit to him years ago, guess he forgot. - Friend.”

  “Nix…”

  “Yes, baby? - Friend.”

  “You realize that was like… fifteen years ago, right?

  “A promise is a promise. - Friend.”

  “NIX!”

  “I’m playing. I’m not gonna do anything to your lil boyfriend. Yet. - Friend.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Fuck him. - Friend.”

  Shaking my head, I sat the phone aside long enough to put on a tank top, a tee shirt, and yoga pants. When I was dressed, I sat down on the edge of the bed again.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be back at the restaurant right now?”

  “I am. Snuck away from the line. The only reason I didn’t come back to your place in the break before dinner service is because I figured your mom and aunt were still there. I see you survived that. - Friend.”

  “With only a mildly bruised ego this time. And no, I don’t wanna talk about it.”

  “Ok. You know you can if you need to though, right? - Friend.”

  I smiled at his message as I tapped out a response.

  “Yes. I do.”

  “Good. Well… I’m gonna let you go… for now. – Friend.”

  A few seconds later, an audio file popped up on my phone. I tapped the play button, and the panty-wetting sound of Nixon singing to me came through the speaker.

  “They say if you love something let it go, and if it comes back then that's how you know…”

  I pushed out a heavy sigh, knowing without needing to ask that it was a line from Marques Houston’s Circle. I also knew exactly what he was getting at. My phone chimed again, and I closed the audio file to read the new message.

  “We’ve already established that I summoned you back with my bomb-ass singing ability, and general hot-shitness, right? – Friend.”

  I bit my
lip to keep from smiling, but before I could respond, he’d already sent another message.

  “I’m a patient man, baby. What’s meant to be, will be. – Friend.”

  Tossing myself back onto the bed, I scrolled back through our conversation. It amazed me that we’d easily slipped back into the easy communication we shared before our relationship became romantic. Then it occurred to me that over the years since our breakup, even when I was upset with him, even when I thought he was the scourge of the earth, he’d always been able to pull me into an enjoyable banter. Even if what I was enjoying was calling him everything except a child of God.

  Voodoo dick, I swear.

  I opted not to respond to his last message, instead rolling out of the bed and shoving my feet into my soft moccasins. I grabbed my phone, keys, and a bottle of wine, then left to knock on Carter’s door. It was a little early to drink, but hey, if Morgan and Melissa could do it, so could we.

  I smiled as the door swung open, expecting to see my cousin, but instead, tall and sexy and loc’ed smiled at me.

  “Charlie… girl, goddamn, how are you fine as hell even in bum wear?”

  Shaking my head, I reached out my arms for a hug. “Hello, nice to see you again too Eddie.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Get your fine, thick ass in here. Viv was just about to call you, but she was hiding out from “the moms” as she calls them.”

  If ever I was in need of a sincere, borderline inappropriate compliment, I could count on getting one from Eddie. We first met when Nixon and I went into his tattoo shop, DistInk’d. Eddie was the one who’d tattooed tiny macaroni shells, in the shape of an infinity sign, onto my hip. Since then, he’d always been openly appreciative of my “thickness”.

  “You’re welcome bitch,” I called out to Viv as I stepped inside. “You’re in here hiding, so I had to deal with Thing 1 and Thing 2. We’re drinking your wine… first.” The sight of Viv with a red nose and glossy, pink-rimmed eyes made a lump rise to my throat. “Viv, what’s wrong?”

  I took the empty seat beside her at the bar, pulling her into hug. On the other side of the counter, Eddie poured us wine, then mixed himself a drink. “She’s just having a moment,” he explained, before taking a swig from his glass. “Crazy ass thinks that boy isn’t gonna marry her.”

  In response to that, Viv sat up, shooting him a scowl as she reached for a tissue to dry her face. I lifted an eyebrow at her, nudging her with my knee when she still didn’t say anything.

  “Fine,” she muttered. “It’s not exactly that. I am in no hurry to get married, but it just… concerns me that Carter was pressuring me to talk about it, pressuring me about a baby, and now all of a sudden, he’s just… stopped.”

  I lifted an eyebrow. “Stopped?”

  “Yes, stopped,” she nodded. “And now, I feel like a crazy person, because I am wondering if he is having doubts about us… doubts about me… doubts about himself.”

  “So… why don’t you just… talk to him?”

  “Same thing I said,” Eddie coughed.

  Viv sighed, then picked up her wine glass, draining it in one gulp. “Because I do not know what to say. I do not know what I want from him. I like our life just fine the way it is for now, but… a little part of me wants to go ahead and get married before he has a chance to panic like he did before.”

  “So you want to propose to him?”

  “No,” she scoffed. “I want to tell him, we are getting married, it is not up for debate.”

  “Hell no.”

  Eddie and I barked out that word in unison, his deeper voice blending with mine to create a chord that made Viv recoil before she glanced between us, confused.

  I grabbed her by the shoulders, turning her to face me.

  “Listen to me. Don’t you dare pressure that man about a ring. Do you hear me? When and if he is ready to lock you down, he will do it.”

  Viv tipped her head to the side. “And just what is wrong with wanting clear expectations for our future, and wanting to set a timeline? Am I unreasonable for not wanting to wait around for years wondering?”

  “You mean like me?” I gave her a pointed look, and Viv’s mouth dropped open as she brought her hands up to grip mine.

  “Charlie, I did not—“

  “It’s fine, really. You have a great point. I waited six years for Nixon to decide I was worth a ring, and I don’t think that’s okay, but it’s barely been a year for you and Carter. Don’t be like me, pressuring the man to marry you, and end up pushing him away.”

  Eddie gave a dry laugh, shaking his head before draining the last of his drink. “Viv… sweet, beautiful girl. Please listen this time. Last time the super friends warned your ass about something and you didn’t listen, you got your feelings hurt. Your cousin is telling you the truth. No man likes an ultimatum— at least not when one of the choices is a lifetime commitment. I’d dropkick your ass to the curb if you brought that shit to me. No offense, Charlie.”

  I took a long swig of my wine. “None taken.”

  And why should it be? It was the damned truth, and something I wish the “super friends” had been around to tell me back when it mattered.

  Before any of us could say anything else, we heard the sound of keys in the door, and a few seconds later, Carter was rounding the corner into the kitchen. At first, he smiled, starting to tip his head up in greeting, but his grin dropped quickly into a mask of concern when he saw Viv.

  “Baby, what’s wrong?” he asked, rushing up to her and cupping her face in his hands. “Did something happen?”

  He looked between Eddie and me but we both shook our heads, then Eddie signaled to me that it was time for us to go.

  As I stood, I kissed Viv’s head, discreetly whispering, “Do not be like me.” to her before I patted Carter’s arm, and headed for the door, with Eddie close behind me.

  “I think they’re gonna be okay,” I said, when we were out of their apartment, and out of earshot.

  Eddie nodded. “Man, I hope so. I would hate to have to choke ole boy for hurting her again.”

  I laughed, then exchanged another hug with Eddie, which he took as an opportunity to dip his hand a little lower on my back than it belonged.

  “Alright now, Eddie,” I scolded, swatting his hand away. “Don’t start nothing!”

  “But it’s so soft. One more feel, come on.”

  I sucked my teeth. “What would the guy I’m dating think?”

  “That I might take his girl from him,” Eddie said, smiling as he stepped back to head for the stairs. “Tell him he’d better watch out. Between me and Nix, ole boy had better step his game up!”

  Laughing, I returned the “deuces” gesture he gave me as he went down the steps, then turned to go back into my own temporary apartment, which suddenly seemed even lonelier than it had before I left.

  Only one of my five S’s — Sleep, shower, sex, social drinking, sisters— was left to try.

  Sleep.

  With my phone, kindle, and a glass of wine, I climbed into bed. I was the entire way through the wine, and only halfway through the first chapter of my book before I drifted into sleep.

  ten.

  nixon.

  Charlie must not have given Trent the message.

  Admittedly, one too many crown and cokes may have had something to do with my rapidly declining desire not to punch his ass in the face, but it was mostly due to the fact he wouldn’t keep his damned hands to himself. Every time I looked up, he had a handful of her, and it wasn’t helping that she wasn’t smacking his hands away.

  I’ve gotta get the hell outta here.

  It was Roman and Simone’s first night back for open mic at Urban Grind, and it had turned into an impromptu “welcome back” party from their honeymoon. What started as a great night, surrounded by people I vibed with, laughing, drinking, getting plenty of face time from Charlie went irrecoverably south as soon as that muthafucka showed up at our table.

  Charlie seemed surprised to see him, and from the
wary look he gave the group as we all — reluctantly, or maybe that was just me — greeted him, I got the distinct impression that she hadn’t invited him. It probably went something like: “Hey, where you at? Oh, I’m chilling with people I actually like, having a blast, don’t need you, why? Oh, word? Where at? You wouldn’t know it, it’s in the old neighborhood that you’re too bougie for now, an excellent place, Urban Grind. Ok, see you soon. Wait, what?”

  Once he was settled in, all up under Charlie like he thought she was gonna disappear, then he wanted to hold a conversation, with her hands tucked in his like they were newlyweds.

  Fuck him.

  As soon as the music started, I swooped Charlie from the table to dance. Ignoring the slighted look on his face, I kept her close, where she should be, laughing and dancing until a slow song came on. Then, she looked up at me with pleading eyes, and I knew what she was about to say before she said it. I shouldn’t, not with Trent right there.

  I shrugged, and let her go back while I posted up at the bar. I shook my head in disgust as I watched her take the empty seat beside him, smiling in what seemed to be an attempt to wipe the sour look from his face. A real man would have just come and taken his girl back if there was a problem, instead of sitting there looking bothered.

  It annoyed the shit out of me to watch Charlie bump shoulders with him, laugh, and joke, trying to get him not to look like he was sitting there under duress. He leaned to speak into her ear, saying something that made her face crumple into a scowl just before she shook her head, then got up to make her way to the bar.

  Per usual, Charlie was looking good as hell, in platform-heeled sandals, skinny jeans, and some kind of top that was silky, and soft, and showed a lot of cleavage. So… perfect. When she reached the bar, she made sure to skip a seat between us before she sat down and ordered herself a drink.

  “Trouble in paradise?” I asked, earning myself a stern look as she accepted her cocktail, and downed it in one gulp.

  I started to move to the seat beside her, but she shook her head, glancing back toward where Trent was still sitting, instead of, I don’t know, having a good time. It didn’t even seem like she was feeling him, and I wanted to ask, but I already knew what she was gonna say. Nix… negro, mind your business.