Isis pouted dramatically. “Damn. Not even for brunch energy? For women's rights? For pillowcases that still remember me?!”
I was still laughing, shaking my head. “The answer is no, Isis. We can still be cool, but that’s it.”
“Well, you can’t say I didn’t try,” she said, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “And dammit… itwas sogood while it lasted.”
Isis grabbed her glass off the counter, lifted it halfway toward me with a wry smile. “To healing andbrutalhonesty… even the messy kind.”
I raised my imaginary glass back at her. “To both.”
Isis walked off with the kind of poise only bougie women born in glitter and grown in grit could pull off. And I just stood there, watching her go.
Isis was right about one thing—itwasgood while it lasted. If nothing else, I was gon’ miss that pussy and head. Isis might’ve been classy in public, but she was a carnal in private. She knew her angles, and she knew mine, too. But that’s the thing about temptation; it doesn’t come with peace… and that’s what I was chasing those days.
Peace and purpose.
Isis was pleasure, but on some real shit, the pussy wasn’t worth the headache, the nut wasn’t worth the aftermath. And no matter how good the sex was, I never feltwholein her arms… just distracted. And I was done distracting myself from who Ireallywanted. Chesteria was the lesson, the love, and the one I fumbled when I thought I had time to play. And maybe I didn’t deserve either of ‘em, but only one made me want to be more than just a man with good dick and good excuses. So yeah… it was time to get my girl back.
Chapter twenty-seven
Chesteria
“The Cabin Chronicles: Decorating With Drama, Dead Deer, and Dior"
After everyone had scrounged up something to eat for breakfast—whether it was a steaming bowl of oatmeal, sugary pastries, cold leftovers, or, in Isis’s case, a mimosa and an avocado toast she “elevated” with truffle oil—we all retreated to the cozy living room.
I leaned forward on the couch, elbows on knees. “Welp… it looks like we’ll be snowed in again today. So I say we make the best of our time here. Who’s up for skiing?”
Isis let out a shriek so dramatic that I half-wondered if a squirrel outside had fainted from the sound. “Skiing?!” She clutched her knit bonnet with both hands, treating it like a prized heirloom facing a sudden gust of wind.
Everyone turned her way. Bryce’s brow furrowed as he stared at her as if she had sprouted a second head right in front of him.
“I like you, Chesteria, but girl, do I look like I came here to wrestle gravity and frostbite?! Y’all want me—Isis Lorraine Dupree—to gobarreling downa snowy cliff like abasic bitchinrented boots? And what, I’m supposed to slide down a mountain inborrowed goggleslike a ski orphan?! Nah. I would need a top-tier sled, insulated lip gloss, fur-lined lashes, and somebody built like The Rock to carry me back up the hill if I fall. That’s not a cute little activity; that’s a production. That’s a team sport with a budget. So, unless the mountain comes with heated seatbelts and Idris Elba pouring hot cocoa shirtless… respectfully? It’s a no for me, sis.”
Me and Adrian shook our heads in unison, unable to suppress our laughter. Bryce continued to stare at Isis, still in disbelief.
“I ain’t never been skiing,” Adrian acknowledged. “I would be down, but this knee of mine is still outta of commission. I’ll fuck around and break this muthafucka for real.”
Just that fast, I had forgotten about his lil’ injury. Although, I still think he was milking it harder than a cow in a lawsuit.
“Oh yeah. I forgot about yourlegendary fall from grace.”
“If I was interested—which I’m not—how would that have worked anyway if the power is out?” Isis questioned.
I nodded toward the frosted window. “Private resort perk. Lights still out past the ridge, but this side of the mountain got its own backup power grid. They got a generator for the ski lifts and warming hut. I called the lodge manager earlier, just in case. We could’ve book a group slot, and they’ll send a guide to the trailhead near the cabin. All we would’ve had to do was bundle up and show up.”
“Cool, cool,” Adrian said, nodding as he processed the information. “But even if my knee wasn’t fucked up, I still couldn’t go. Shid, I ain’t got no sled, boots, or snow pants. All I got left is a pair of joggers, a puffer jacket, and some Timbs.Ain’t no way I’m letting my Timbs hit a slope. I’d come back with busted knees, a lawsuit, and a GoFundMe for my medical bills.”
I chuckled lightly, letting my eyes sweep over Adrian and Isis. “Next time y’all take a cabin trip, please pack more than just clothes, weed, and a whole damn Sephora starter kit.” I directed that last part squarely at Isis. “No shade, boo… but the truth.”
Isis playfully rolled her neck. “Well… if you must know, Ididbring essentials. I brought four glosses, edge control, and my silk scarf. Survival comes in many forms. I came to endure… in style.”She smirked.“And, Chesteria, let’s not act like you didn’t enjoy me walking around here looking like a bougie snow angel.”
Adrian stifled a laugh by coughing into his fist. “A snow angel with demands and Dior.”
Everyone burst out laughing.
“So… since skiing is clearly out of the question,” I said, standing up and stretching my arms overhead, “what bright ideas doy’allhave in mind?”
Then, inspiration struck me like a bolt of lightning.
