It’s then, while in wait for her answer that I see the invisible tie to her appear wrapped around my enslaved heart. The idea she might pass, along with her confession of something new has my stomach rolling.
“You want to spend Christmas with me?”
“Why not? I’m here. You’re here. It’ll be fun. I’ve never been to the city. You can show me around.”
“I have a break until the day after, so yeah,” she nods and nods, her expression dazed before her eyes lift, “I’d love to spend Christmas with you.”
“Alright then, it’s settled.” I glance at her bedside clock. “It’s late. I should go, let you get some sleep.”
“I’ll plan it all out. What time do you get up?”
“Early crow, around four-thirty.”
“Lance,” she looks at the clock. “That’s like four hours from now.”
“I’ll sleep in then and be up at six.” I give her a wink. “Just, uh, text me when you wake up.” I pass her my phone, and she takes it, her eyes darting down when our fingers touch. It’s then I see it, guilt. Guilt I would’ve loved to have seen two years ago for the way she banished me. I bat that away, my anger with her low-lying. Where it will remain. I’m not about to screw this up by punishing her. I can’t bring myself to do it yet, but oh, how I want to. What I want more is to punish her shimmering lips, rip off her sweater and leggings and fuck the hell out of her until she’s whimpering out regrets and apologies. Instead, I pocket my phone once she’s programmed her number in and head for the door.
“I’m gonna head out.”
“See you tomorrow?” She pipes up behind me when I open it.
“Yeah.”
“I’ll walk you out, so my chihuahua doesn’t attack.”
“I can handle him.”
“He was tired. Just wait until he’s had some coffee tomorrow.”
I chuckle as she walks me to her door. The apartment quiet, my steps heavy on the hardwood. The last thing I want to do is leave, but I’m still fighting the gnawing resentment, and I need to get a handle on it before I keep more conversation with her. How she can be so completely foreign and familiar at the same time is screwing with me.
Once on the other side of her door, I linger, as does she.
We stare silently, time and past between us before she speaks up. “I can’t believe you’re here.”
“Yeah,” I say softly, before leaning in to kiss her cheek. When I pull away, I do it just a hair from her lips. “It’s good to see you, Priss.”
She licks her lips, and her eyes slowly lift to mine. “You too.”
“Night.”
Harper
Watching from my bedroom window, I wait until Lance disappears out of sight before I turn towards my bedroom door. “You can come in. I know you were listening.”
The door bursts open, and René stands with his nightly smashed avocado face mask on in a white robe he stole from a posh hotel that Ricky took him to on an anniversary.
“What are ju doing?”
“I’m sitting on my bed. What are you doing?”
“Jour going to take him on a tour of Jew York?”
“That’s the plan.” I can’t hide my elation, and I don’t want to.
“Mami, ju let him go for a reason.”
“Yeah, the timing was off.”
“And ju don’t tink it’s off now? Jour career is thriving. Ju just landed jour first solo.”
“So?”
“So, what ju going to do? Ju going to go to Texas and have his massive babies and trow it all to shit?”
“No, I’m not. Stop spitting hatorade. He’s in town, and he wants to catch up.”
“In town for Christmas? Ju don’t find that odd that he here without no family?”
“I don’t know. I’m not going to waste time that I could spend with him worrying about it.”
“Fine, he jour first love, I get it. But ju made a conscious decision to end it with him. Ju both have different lives. Ju told me so over and over.”
“It’s a tour of New York, not marriage.”
“He wants ju back. Mark my words.”
“That’s hard to do.”
“Chut up,” he snaps, sauntering in my room and sifting through products that he will eventually steal off my dresser. He flips a cap off my body spray. “Mmmm.”
“Don’t you dare, I just bought that.”
“A little spray.”
“It’s a bit flowery.”
“I like flowery. My parents named me René, a girl’s name,” he sighs, “what did dey expect me to do with dat?”
“Your name doesn’t make you gay,” I say, taking the bottle from him and capping it, “your attraction to men does.”
“Sactly, it’s a sickeness though, dese men, dey break your heart.” He gives me a side-eye I’m sure he considers subtle and is anything but. The man is shit at keeping secrets, and that’s why I’m careful with my deepest around him, but he’s all heart. And I love him like no other.
“I’m okay. And I’m going to be okay, no matter what happens the next few days.”
“He wants ju back,” he singsongs, giving me a pointed look while swiping some of my new balm across his lips.
“It’s been two years,” I shrug. “Maybe he’s curious.”
“Curious if ju still look the same naked.”
“And would that be so bad?”
“He broke jour heart, broke jour family up, and it made ju miserable.”
“My father broke my heart. I left Lance so that we no longer had to suffer for it. He did nothing wrong. I’ve explained this. You want a villain where one doesn’t exist.”
“I jus don wan to see ju in dat much pain evers again.”
“Goes with the territory,” I say, knowing Lance leaving me in mere days will probably feel like a wrecking ball to the chest. “I chose dance, I chose his well-being. I chose my own well-being. I ended it.”
“Okay, Mami. Jour all grown up now, I jess.”
“Jess, I am.”
He rolls his eyes. “Jus be careful. What about dis guy who took ju to coffee?”
Casey doesn’t hold a candle to Lance. The flickers I felt today during coffee don’t have shit on the flame that ignited in my chest the second I saw Lance at my door.
I shake my head, and René sighs.
“Okay, jus know I’ll be here.”
“You better be here, always.”
“I jus said I will. Now, I make another mask, and pick some clothes so ju can be ready for tomorrow.”
“No, thank you, I just want to sleep.”
“Oh no, we doing dis.”
The decision is final. For the next hour, I’ll be buffed and polished.
These are the perks of having a best friend with a self-care addiction and great fashion sense. And when I say best, he’s the best I’ve ever had. He leaves the room to go hammer and nail out my makeover while I stare at the vacant chair Lance just left.
I’ve been watching his progress closely since clips of fights started on social media. Seeing a highlight reel was just posted to his page, I watch as he knocks his contender to the ground with little effort. Two years ago, he was the most alluring man I’d ever seen. Even with evidence of a broken nose, the man is now God-like and more attractive than ever. He’s bulked up so much, I barely recognize his width, but those grey eyes and thick lashes and smooth full lips I would know anywhere. Not to mention the way they make me feel. The way I feel with him in the same space, period, is enough. Flipping through his feed, I see the location of his fight, the fight he said took place in New York. I scroll up and see the time stamp. Seven hours ago, Lubbock, Texas. Clearly, he’s not the one running his own social media page.