Melanie pulled her yellow Audi into the driveway of her home north of Atlanta. Against her parents’ wishes, she’d wanted to move out of the mansion after college graduation. They’d compromised by having her live in the guesthouse on their estate. Today, like many days, she thanked God for the mile-and-a-half distance from the main house. Having her own space meant she could sneak in and ignore the well-meaning questions her parents would ask if they saw her red-rimmed eyes, matted hair, and wrinkled blouse.
Then they’d ask about the job they didn’t want her to accept. And why she looked like someone had taken a bat to her heart. She couldn’t tell them that someone, namely Damien, had beaten her heart worse than a piñata at a Cinco de Mayo celebration.
Pulling the keys from her purse, she twisted the lock and opened the door, dragging the wheeled carry-on bag behind her. Bending down, she pressed the handle and then struggled to lift the luggage up the stairs. She kicked open her bedroom door and plopped the bag on the plush, beige-carpeted floor.
She wouldn’t be unpacking today. Oh, no. In the middle of an emotional trauma, life-altering changes, and a just-past-quarter-life crisis, only a few things could heal the soul.
Digging into her purse and coming up with old sticky notes, pens, coins, and a valet ticket, she found her phone. She snapped the device into its dock and scrolled as the ticks of songs brought her closer to the it’s-been-a-sucky-day playlist she’d created as a teen.
After changing into pajamas, the comfortable flannel and plaid kind that made life just a smidge better, she flung herself on the bed.
Toni Braxton’s soulful voice floated around her room. “Serenade me, Toni.” Singing right along, albeit terribly, Melanie lay with her arms and legs spread, as if making a bed angel.
“Girl, what the hell?”
Melanie rolled off the bed straight into a karate stance. Her other best friend, Tiana, stood in the door, a scowl lining her perfectly made-up face. “Oh, it’s you.” She clutched her thumping heart. “You scared me half to death!”
“You would’ve heard me ringing the doorbell if you weren’t singing at the top of your lungs like a wounded coyote. I used my spare key to let myself in.”
Melanie flopped back onto the bed, resuming the position of bed angel. “I am wounded. A wounded, weary soul.”
Tiana took off her cream-and-black stilettos that she rocked better than anyone Melanie knew, gently nudged Melanie over, and then relaxed against an embroidered pillow. “Tell Aunt T all about it, baby.” The Southern-grandmother voice reminded Melanie of rocking chairs, sweet tea, and soul food.
“Damien is getting married to that awful woman I told you about.”
Tiana sucked in a breath and winced. “Oh.” Her tone was now careful and delicate.
“Oh? Oh!” Melanie repeated, this time yelling while narrowing her gaze. “That’s all you have to say? He’s making the biggest mistake of his life, and all you can say is oh?”
“What you do want me to say? You waited to tell him how you felt. You missed the train.”
“It’s not just that, T. He’s basically being emotionally blackmailed into marrying her!” She rehashed the story. Tiana’s tightened lips and sympathetic head shakes finally showed empathy.
“I really couldn’t tell him how I feel, not with news of Leonard’s illness and Refurbished Dreams’s financial woes.”
“So you returned home to lick your wounds?”
Melanie shook her head. “No. I’m allowing myself to host a twenty-four-hour pity party. Then I’m going to revamp my plan. I knew Vanessa was in the picture, but I thought she was just another girl who’d be gone in a few months. I’m going to stick to the plan and show Damien that Vanessa is not the woman for him.”
Tiana rubbed her temple and sighed. “I don’t know. Damien is a grown man and can make his own decisions. And besides, do you want to be one of those women who sabotages relationships?”
Melanie chose her next words carefully, knowing Tiana was sensitive to the subject matter, especially since her ex-fiancé cheated on her with a coworker. “I would never do something like that. But I’m telling you, Vanessa isn’t right for him.”
Tiana’s laugh was desert dry. “You would say that about any woman he dated, honey.”
“No. I told you about how we first met.” Melanie rolled out of the bed, cocked her hips, and pasted a plastic smile on her face. “Oh, are they doing the vintage T-shirt thing in Atlanta?” She mimicked Vanessa in a voice crossed between a 1-900 sex phone operator and a chain smoker and then struck a Vanna White pose. “Sweetie, you should wear heels. They tend to elongate the physique.”
“I make snide comments about your clothes,” Tiana interrupted. “You’re rich as sin, yet you dress like a Star Wars fanboy.”
“I make allowances for you because I love you. Vanessa, however, can suck it.”
“And what is the it she is sucking?” Tiana formed air quotes with her fingers.
Melanie shrugged. “I don’t know. I imagine it is something sour and black. Like her soul.”
Tiana pinched the bridge of her pert nose. “All right, reel it back in, crazy lady. Regardless of the circumstances, you’re still moving to New York. You’re removing yourself from under your parents’ thumb and getting your own place. You’re going to stop dressing like a teenage boy, get some contacts, and date. You have the job you’ve always wanted. Now find a good man to keep you warm at night.” She raised her hand before continuing. “Let me clarify. A man who isn’t Damien. You guys have been friends for years. If he hasn’t made a move yet, he isn’t going to do it now.”
Leave it to Tiana to dive right in, no life jacket needed.
Melanie sat again and propped herself up against a fluffy pillow. “So you think I should just give up? Buy them his-and-hers towels and let them ride off not so happily ever after into the sunset?”
“You got it, girlfriend.” Tiana scooted off the bed and walked to Melanie’s closet. “Now let’s get this packing stuff out of the way. And for God’s sake, give poor Toni Braxton a break!”
Melanie snorted. I’m not giving up Toni Braxton or Damien.
Tiana ransacked the closet, and after a few minutes, a huge pile of clothes had formed on the floor.
“Hey!” Melanie jerked upright on the bed. “The suitcases are over there.” She pointed to the corner of the room.
“I know.” Her friend continued to dump more and more clothes on the floor. “This is the Goodwill pile, and I’m sure you’ll make some thirteen-year-old boy very happy.” She frowned at a faded baseball-style T-shirt. “Besides, there’s no way I’m letting my girl move to New York looking all busted. We’re going shopping tomorrow. No excuses.”
“Fine, fine. New city, new me. I need to step up my clothes game anyway.”
Melanie flopped back, knowing Tiana would just shoo her away if she tried to pack her own stuff.
“What am I going to do without you?” she whispered, staring at the circulating fan.
“I have a phone interview with an agency in New York, and I’ll be up there soon if I can help it. I’m tired of doing the same ol’ marketing campaigns.” She huffed, and another old T-shirt sailed into the Goodwill pile. “There’s only so many ways you can market dog food.”
Melanie smiled, knowing that whenever Tiana made her up mind, it was as good as done. She relaxed into the pillows as the sage advice looped in her mind. While Melanie usually listened to her friend’s opinions, this time she wouldn’t take Tiana’s counsel.
Operation: I’m Gonna Make You Love Me was still in action.
• • •
Damien removed one hand from the steering wheel as he reached in the car door storage pocket to pull out a pair of shades. “Here.” He handed Melanie the aviator sunglasses he’d bought from a gift shop in South Carolina. They were rose-colored, a perfect match for his optimistic friend.
Melanie squinted her eyes and scrunched her adorable nose. “Thanks, D. The sun is killing me today.” She slid on the glasses. “So … where to next on our road trip—the UFO museum or a ride through the Tunnelvision?”
“I’ve got a better idea. My client, Will, has a lake house. We could—”
“Hell yes!” She bounced in the seat.
He knew his mermaid friend would love to take a dip in a lake. They were lucky it was an unseasonably hot spring day. “Good. It’s only thirty minutes away. I already texted Will to let him know we’d be there. His cleaning lady left us a key to go into the house and change.”
“Do you mind if I pull the top down?” She pointed to the roof of her Audi convertible.
“Go for it. Might as well enjoy this nice spring weather before we go up north.”
The roof retracted, and the wind swooped in. She tilted her head back and smiled, curls dancing in the wind. Her brown skin, kissed by the sun, gave her an ethereal glow.
She turned her head to face him; a sweet smile covered her face. “This is perfect, D. Absolutely perfect.”
Somehow, without even a touch, she flooded his senses. Willing his eyes to move, he reluctantly turned to face the deserted two-lane road. He cleared his voice and gripped the steering wheel. “You know I’ll do anything to make you happy. Even if it means begging my clients.”
“I would do the same.” Her voice was low and melancholy, and it pricked his heart.
She cleared her throat and stroked his forearm. “I need you to be happy too.” Her voice was stronger this time, with a hint of something else around the edges. As if she were gearing up to go to war.
“What is it?”
“I’m just … I’m really going to miss this. Us … ” Her whisper broke off. “Being together like this.”
He wanted to protest, to tell her things would always be the same, but he doubted Vanessa would want him driving up the eastern seaboard with his best friend once they were married.
His heart tripped in his chest. Monday movie madness and late-night whispered secrets. Emoji text wars and epic sports debates. Baseball games in Central Park and conversations under the bleachers.
A rush of adrenaline burned beneath his skin. No. I won’t lose her. Vanessa will have to deal. Gripping the wheel, he swerved off the road and shifted the gear to park. A cloud of red dust seeped into the car.
Melanie covered her mouth and coughed, but the dust hadn’t bothered him. His lungs and skin and chest were already burning.
“What in the world, D?”
He pulled the aviators from her face and cupped her cheeks in his hands. “There’s nothing for you to miss, Melly. I’ll always be here for you.”
Eyes shimmering, she nodded.
There was nothing more to say. Nothing and no one would come between them.
• • •
The lake twinkled in the wake of the sinking sun. A large swatch of blue sky and white clouds hovered just above the water, and the pine trees surrounding the lake gave it a private, exclusive feel. Not for the rich, but for lovers only.
Melanie imagined long summer days and hot summer nights wrapped in Damien’s arms. One day. Soon.
Towels in hand, Melanie and Damien stood on the pier, peering into the dark-blue water.
She leaned against the wood railing. “You go in first.” She waved to the lake. “Tell me how it is.”
“Nope. We’re jumping in together.”
“No, no. I may have been a bit hasty in my enthusiasm. The temperature is starting to drop.”
He crossed his arms. “If you’re afraid of getting too cold or too wet, don’t worry … I’ll keep you warm,” he said in a voice that was smooth, provocative, and far too dangerous.
Her stomach clenched at the innuendo he probably didn’t realize he’d made.
Melanie dropped the towel near her feet. “I just want you to test the waters and tell me how it is.”
He shook his head again.
“Fine.” She raised a brow, knowing he would have to comply with their rule when they couldn’t agree on something. “Rock, paper, scissors.”
Damien chuckled and lifted his fist above his palm. “Fine.”
They stared at each other for a moment, then grinned. “Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!” they both shouted.
Melanie squeezed her fist, choosing rock, and scowled when she saw Damien’s hand flat against his other.
“Paper covers rock.” Stating the obvious, he jerked his head toward the lake. “Ladies first.”
“Best two out of three?”
“Suuuure, Melanie,” he said in a saccharine voice. She knew he would give her shit about this later, but she didn’t care. She wasn’t getting in that cold water first.
“Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!”
She pumped her fist in the air when her rock beat Damien’s scissors.
“This is for the championship. The World Series. The Super Bowl. The—”
“Quit stalling and go already,” Damien’s deep voice interrupted.
“All right. All right. Hold your horses, D.” They stared at each other, as if they could guess what the other would choose, and played again.
Her paper beat his rock.
“Yes! I’m the winner.” She danced around him, celebrating her victory. “I just kicked your—ahh!” she screamed.
Damien had scooped her into his muscular arms and smiled. “Like I said, we’re jumping in together.”
Melanie was too shocked to protest as he casually stepped off the edge of the pier and heaved them both into the water.
She broke above the surface and took a gulp of breath to clear her lungs. Damien’s hands curled around her ankle.
“No you don’t!” She yanked her leg away, dipped under the water, and pretended to go for his manhood.
Damien rushed above the water, his chest heaving. “Damn, Mel. You never play fair.”
“I play to win. You taught me that.” She grinned and swam closer to him.
Tendrils of water dripped from his chiseled face to his immaculate chest, daring her to trace the trail with her tongue.
Despite the dwindling light, Damien’s eyes shone like the North Star. Staring in his eyes, she’d never be lost.
The vein in his neck throbbed, and her mouth went dry. She was parched, from years and years of being near the well of deep, cool water that was Damien, yet never having the chance to quench her thirst. And if she had the chance, she wouldn’t sip. She would gulp him all the way down until she felt it in her belly.
Damien grabbed her waist and pulled her close. His eyes were dark. Mysterious.
Tracing her lips with his fingers, he whispered on a sigh, “What am I going to do with you, Melly?”
She cleared her throat, her heart drowning out the lulling sounds of the lake. “Keep me, Damien. You’ve always had me.”
He squeezed his eyes shut and dropped his hands from her waist and lips. She shivered from the absence.
“Every time I think about my happiest moments, you’re there, front and center. You’re my best friend, Mel, and we’ll always have this. Promise me we’ll always have this. That you’ll try.” His deep voice shook with emotion.
“I promise, D.”
More than you know, I promise to always make you happy.