“You danced with her.” It came out low and shaking. “Do you know how that looked? I bid twenty thousand dollars on you. Again. Years I have sat in that room and watched you shake hands and work donors and you have neveronceasked me to dance. Not one time. And then some — ” she caught it, almost, then didn't — “some grasping little widow with a kid walks in off the street and you cross the entire floor for her in front of everyone I know.”
There it was.
“That's what this is about? You put your hands on her. Alawyer. You should be very glad you're sitting across from me right now and not standing in front of a judge on an assault charge, because she could've made that call, and she didn't. That was her being generous. I wouldn't count on it twice.”
I leaned in. “Let me make sure you hear me, because I'm only saying this once. You're going to stay away from her. You're not going to speaktoher, speakabouther, show up where she is, or so much as look in her direction. You will not say her name to a friend, a stranger, or a soul in this town.” My voice dropped. “And if I hear that you did? If I hear you even sneezed in her direction? I will make sure every door that is open for ‘Bree the Brand’ in this region closes. Are we clear?”
She didn't answer.
“I asked if we're clear.”
The look she gave me then was one I’d never seen on her, and it made me understand, all at once, how badly I’d underestimated what I’d allowed in my orbit. She held it too long. Then she caught herself, dabbed the corner of her mouth with her napkin, and reassembled her smile in one fluid motion.
“Yes. Clear. Of course. I apologize. That was beneath me. You’re right to defend your friend. I wish her nothing but the best.” She straightened. “There’s no comparison to be made, Julian. Truly. Could we just finish dinner.”
For a second she just looked like a woman alone at a table, and although it was necessary, I didn't feel proud of myself. I had no more words for her, so I asked for the check.
She continued her meal and tried small talk for a few minutes while I waited for the check to arrive. I didn’t perform politeness, because politeness would have been engagement. I signed the check before the waiter set the pen down, and stood.
“Stay and finish your meal. Good night.” Then I left her with the rest of the dessert and the rest of the night.
I got in my car and did what I should have done before. I texted Glory.
Effective immediately. Sabrina West is persona non grata at any WadeHouse property or event. Not even as a plus-one substitution.
Any attempt by her to contact me should be refused.
Refund her auction bid by Friday. Paperwork to me to sign.
Confirm.
GLORY
On it Mr. Wade.
21/
ready for love
THIS CHAPTER HAS A SOUNDTRACK
Ready For Love byIndia.Arie
julian
It had beeneight days since I’d touched Alyssa. I’d counted, which was not something I did. The morning after the auction dinner I had to fly to LA for a distribution deal that had been circling for months and landed on the one week I’d have given anything to spend home instead. I’d spent eight days in conference rooms three time zones away, thinking about the way she’d come undone, in my lap.
We’d left it unfinished. Agreed that this wasn’t a decision either of us should make turned up that high. So I’d spent over a week hearing myself out, in hotel beds and in the back of cars, arriving at the same place. I wanted her. Not the careful version of wanting I’d allowed myself for months. All of it. I’d decided somewhere flying over Kansas that I was done managing it, and whatever it might cost me down the line I was going to reach for her.
What I didn’t know was where she’d landed. I’d made my decision thirty thousand feet in the air. Her decision I couldn’t read from a text. We’d communicated every day I was gone, both of us stepping around the live wire in the middle of the floor. I had no idea if she’d arrived where I had, or had talked herself out of it. And tonight my whole family was going to be in my house. Which meant we were going to have to feel it in a room full of people we couldn’t say a word in front of.
It was my turn to host karaoke night at my home on Belmead. A knock rattled the front door, followed by the sound of shrieking kids, and I knew my night of peace was over.
Simone and Raschad arrived first, with Zhaire pushing past them looking for Micah, and Zaria toddling behind, clutching a plastic toy microphone.
“Micah’s not here yet, Zhaire,” I shouted to him as he bounded up my stairs checking rooms.
Simone shoved a bag of takeout containers into my arms before saying hello. “Egg rolls, lo mein, extra sauces,” she announced.
