“I was hoping the wedding was still on.”
Emme twisted her lips.
“It’s okay. I don’t expect to be in the wedding anymore. Too much has happened.”
Emme sighed. “I think it’s past time we spoke. I shouldn’t have ignored your calls back in February when you tried to tell me about Canaan. I was shocked and hurt when that video surfaced. Then you were in Florida announcing your engagement like the perfect couple.” Her eyes watered. “I watched your confession the other day, and I get it. I really do.”
“I planned to tell you, and everything happened way too fast. Then you showed up in Miami. By then, Canaan and I had developed real feelings. I just wanted to apologize for hurting you.”
She shook her head. “I only hurt myself. Canaan was my Mr. Big. Elusive, charming, sexy, wealthy, and an asshole. I wanted him to love me like I loved him, and I pretended for the longest that all I cared about was the sex.”
“Do you still love him?” I held my breath, hoping Emme had forever closed that door. Matt really was a good match for her.
“Like an old memory. He was my first love, though I wasn’t his. I used to cheat on him to get him to see me, and he would get back at me with other women. Seeing your relationship blow up everywhere brought back unresolved feelings I thought I’d resolved. I went to his apartment to get answers about why I was never the one for him. He reminded me that I had a man who was the one for me.”
“What about Matt? Do you really love him, or are you just settling?”
She smiled. “I do love him, and I’m not just settling. I got so trapped in the past that I forgot that I have a man who wants to be caught in the present.” She looked away and then back at me. “Just like Canaan wants to be caught by you.”
“I don’t know. Being without him hurts so much. Still, I don’t know if I’ll survive another round if he decides he doesn’t want to be with me again.”
“Trust me, I know how much it hurts. I jeopardized my future for a man who never really loved me. So, trust me, I know it hurts.” She studied her engagement ring for a long time before she spoke again. “I doubt you and I can ever be friends again, at least not how we were. Still, I think you should know that Canaan loves you. He is different with you. When he came back up the elevator, I’d never seen him so lost and alone. He’s never looked that way about me. Because I once loved himandwant the best for both of you, work it out with him.”
I shifted in my chair. “Do you mean that?”
The server placed our still-smoking plates on the table, and she forked a piece of waffle into her mouth. Once she finished chewing, she replied, “Oh, I’ll probably curse the two of you out as you jet set across the world together, but I do have a love of my own that I need to attend to.”
“Does Matt know you’ve struggled with letting go of Canaan?”
Emme nodded with a sad smile. “It’s how we got together in the first place. We were both trying to move on from toxic relationships. I guess we trauma-bonded as friends first, and then love bloomed. Matt is right for me, and knowing what I know of you and Canaan, you’re right for each other.” She gulped down her mimosa. “I need another drink. You know, being selfless is a challenge for me.”
I laughed as I sipped my juice. “Good thing you have such other amazing traits.”
And two old friends ended brunch reminiscing about their college days before Canaan Jackson disrupted their world.
Chapter 34
Canaan
Kensie’s beautiful face covered my screen for the umpteenth time. My hungry gaze devoured the sadness, frustration, hurt, and resolve during her confession. Missing her had been one of the constant aches along with my broken ribs. Stubbornness and fear kept me from reaching out, though I longed to hear her voice from the moment I opened my eyes until I shut them again at night.
Even before her confession, I recognized my fault in the ending of our relationship. The abandonment of my mother left scars that loving Kensie revealed. Career-oriented like my mother, I unconsciously dismissed Kensie whenever I sensed her career was more important than I was. Witnessing Kensie’s glow of happiness when she received her award and seeing that she wanted me by her side awakened me to my blind spot. She didn’t need to confess publicly to make me believe in her again, though I’d never been prouder that she’d decided to tell the truth on social media. Whether my sponsors continued to rock with me because of our fake engagement didn’t matter; I found Kensie.
I still loved her, would always love her, and discerned from her unwavering support of me that she genuinely still loved me too. In the three days since she released the video, I’d been silent, allowing my publicist to field all the calls and answer questions about my involvement with social media influencer and author Kensie Garrett. Ironically, I’d never seen her in that light. She’d become my Kens. My lover. My friend. My woman. My future wife.
If I’d only read that email when it was first sent, I could have addressed it with her. By now, we would probably have moved on from the incident and might even be together. As much as I wanted to continue to blame the accident and my heartbreak on her, the demise of our relationship was my fault too. I initiated the sexual interlude in the restaurant that led to the video. I ignored her evident love to focus on what I believed was her lie, and I closed the door on our relationship at the first sign of trouble, though she’d been there for me. Ms. Murielle deservedly needed to scold me for the mess I was making of my life.
Pushing myself out of bed, I stretched my tired limbs as much as I could. Three sessions of rehab already seemed to have helped me. I would be strong enough to race again if I wanted to. And I wanted to. Suddenly, the clouds that had lingered over me for the past five weeks disappeared. I’d just had a subconscious thought about racing. I strolled to the floor-length mirror in my bathroom and checked out the slowly fading scars on the impact side, my left. The surgery repaired my broken bones, and the cast had come off two days after Kensie’s unexpected visit.
I finally stared at my face. My unkempt curls, overgrown mustache, and beard gave me a gruff appearance that I actually liked—made me less pretty. Less model-ready. I flexed in the mirror and flinched from the residual pain of my cuts and bruises. Heartbreak had kept me down longer than my injuries. I survived an accident that should have been fatal with no lasting consequences. In time, my body would be fully healed. My mind and heart would take longer if I didn’t atone for my mistakes.
First things first, I commanded the shower to run before I retrieved my phone to make a call.
Later that afternoon, I pulled up to the practice track in Waller County, near my alma mater, Prairie View, which Malcolm and I had constructed on land I had purchased. Passing up the exit to the university evoked unbridled memories of Kensie and our time in college. Thinking back, I liked our unfriendly banter, and that she hadn’t been easily impressed like the other women on campus. Kensie never cared about my money then or now. I’d allowed the fear of abandonment to eclipse what I’d known deep down that Kensie didn’t and wouldn’t compromise her dignity for fame or fortune.
Wearing a Ferrari Formula One baseball cap, Malcolm leaned against the back of my blue Mustang Generation with his arms folded. He’d driven my car here at my request. His frown turned into a wide smile when I stepped out of my car. The usually taciturn Malcolm grabbed me in a bear hug. “I started to think I needed to find a new driver and a new best friend.”
“You wouldn’t know what to do without me.” I pushed off him playfully, touched by my friend’s rare show of emotion. “Squeezing too tight; still recovering, Mal.”
