I flip the picture down and take a step back as if I just put out a grass fire. I don’t know what I was thinking. I knew that picture was here, and it’s like it didn’t even register. I should get rid of it. God knows it’s burned itself into my mind. It’s the one of me and Steph locked in an embrace, floating on the lake in a canoe like we had the rest of our lives ahead of us to do just that. It’s when things were still good. I guess everything is good when you’re both still alive.
“Whoa.” Baya holds up her hands as if she were about to get arrested. “So that’s the hot spot.” She bites down over her lip. “You want to talk about it?” Her forehead wrinkles, and, for a second, I think she might cry—that we both might.
“I’m sorry.” I pull her in by the waist and touch her forehead to mine. “I’m not ready to go there.” I’m not sure I ever will be. “One day.” One day seems like a good answer. It hurts too much to think about. And, now, I have Baya—her whole heart, and it feels unfair to everyone involved. It was easier when it was girls by the dozen falling into my bed. I could put my heart in a bottle and toss it into the ocean, forget about it forever if I wanted. But Baya plucked the bottle right out of the sea. She’s holding it there in her sweet hand, tenderly, carefully. And now we’re both staring down at my barely-beating heart wondering what the hell’s the matter with it.
Baya pulls me in and melts her lips over mine. She offers slow, lingering kisses that scrape the pain out of the deepest part of me—that have the ability to cleanse my mortal soul. Baya should store her affection and sell it as a balm. She’s the light at the end of this very dark tunnel. And, if she keeps leading me by the heartstrings, I think I might make it out alive.
“Maybe we should go down to dinner,” I whisper. I’m hoping that will brush the patina of grief off this night. I’m ready to galvanize my relationship with Baya, and the last thing I want to do is focus on the tragedy in my life.
“Dinner sounds great.”
She’ll change her mind once she tries Mom’s cooking, but I’ll let her decipher that for herself.
Downstairs, Mom and Annie have already set the table, so we take our seats. Nitro sits dutifully next to Baya and me, and, I’m sure between the two of us, he’ll score more of Mom’s questionable food than he’ll want. Mom dishes out the gumbo, and I watch as Baya eyes the concoction as if an alligator might pop out—and, knowing Mom, it might.
“So”—Mom steadies her eyes over Baya with that peace about her that I was hoping for—“Bryson mentioned you were from Texas. What made you choose Whitney Briggs?”
“My dad.” She glances over at me and gives a sad smile. “He went there. My brother and I both wanted to attend, especially after he passed away.” She pauses a second, and my heart breaks for her. “He was struck by a drunk driver while he was on his bike. He was a cyclist. He loved to ride.”
I don’t remember her mentioning a drunk driver—and here I have her working at a fucking bar. Crap.
“I’m so sorry.” Mom touches her hand to her lips. Annie looks equally distraught, so I don’t bother translating. “Bryson has had nothing but nice things to say about your brother. I’d love to meet him one day. He’s been rather an enigma these past few years. Maybe he can come with you next time?”
Baya shifts uncomfortably in her seat. Mom doesn’t realize that if we brought Cole, bulletproof vests might be necessary—for me anyway.
“I think that would be great.” Baya’s lips rubber band into the world’s quickest smile. “You have a beautiful home.” She looks from Mom to Annie.
And, so it goes, with the on again off again, awkward dinner conversion until finally Annie offers to clear the dishes.
“Baya”—Mom folds her hands where her plate once sat—“tell me how you and Bryson met.”
Shit.
I blink a smile over at Baya, and my gaze dips to her chest a moment. Her perfect tits were the ultimate hello, but I’ll be the last to admit it to my mother.
“I…” Her teeth graze her lips. Baya is cute as hell when she’s in hot water. “I was struggling with my luggage and he offered to help.”
Well done. I raise my brows at her. And points for telling the truth.
“What a gentleman.” Mom swoons into the idea. “That’s my Bry, Bry…”
And it’s a wrap.
I push my seat out. “Baya, you want to help with dessert?”
“Yes.” She hops up so fast, you’d think her feet were on springs.
Baya and I make our way to the kitchen where Annie already has the dishwasher running.
Annie signs over to me.You found a good one. I’m proud of you. She wraps her arms around me for a brief second.You deserve to be happy, even though I know you don’t think so.
I give her a firm hug before she waves at Baya and leaves the room.
“I like your sister.” Baya pulls me in by the belt loop. Her perfume swoops around me like a vanilla whisper.
“She likes you, too. So does my mom.”
“So I got the seal of approval?” She dips her chin just enough to let me know she’s flirting.
