Chapter

Twenty-Nine

I had every single window rolled down as I sped up La Cienega Boulevard heading north toward Sunset. I didn’t have a convertible, but it sure felt like I did as the April breeze blew through my car.

Life was so good. My home, my family, we were all lined up, once again living in perfect harmony. And then on the other “Harmony” front—it seemed like life was working out there, too.

The day after I’d spoken to Harmony, I received a text from Quentin. It was very simple. Two words: Thank you. And I’d sent him back a smiley face.

Then the next day, I heard from Harmony: Soror, I can’t thnk u enough 4 bringing the happiness back n2 my life. Q & I r 2gther again, in a good place & I owe it all 2 u. Let’s get 2gther soon. Call me.

My nonresponse to Harmony was my answer. I had handled this situation, and the way I’d calmed the waters, somebody needed to give me five snaps up.

But now that it was over, Harmony and I didn’t need to be friends. She was my soror, but she was my ex’s next and that made her ineligible for any kind of friendship. So there was no need to pretend that we were going to be anything more than we were. I was burning that bridge. My plan was never to be in touch with Harmony or Quentin again.

All I wanted now was happier times.

That’s why I was heading up toward Sunset. To prepare for happier times.

This had all been Brock’s idea. He’d come up with it two days ago when I was moping over my morning coffee about the only sad spot in my life—Christopher and Evon’s wedding. Even though I’d put everything back together again, I couldn’t shake Christopher’s resolve to go away—and not have family with them.

That was when Brock had said, “Why don’t we have a celebration waiting for Christopher and Evon when they come back?”

Before the entire sentence had left his lips, I was on it. I dashed up to my office, grabbed my iPad, and ran back to the kitchen. “What a great idea,” I finally said to him. Then I sat at the kitchen table ready to make notes, make calls, make plans.

And all of that made Brock hold up his hands. “Now, we don’t want a big thing. You know how Chris is. Let’s just do a little something. Right here. In the backyard, where we had our reception.”

As if having the reception here at our home was going to stop me from making this grand. “The backyard is perfect.” Then I opened up my browser. “The first thing I need is a caterer.”

Brock slipped into the chair beside me. “What about trying Rendezvous?”

At first, I’d scrunched up my nose.

“What’s wrong? You love that place.”

“And that’s where all of this stuff started. Now I have a bunch of bad memories.”

“Awww, come on.” Brock had laughed. “Are you telling me that you never want to go back to your favorite restaurant?”

Okay, my husband had a point there. Rendezvous was too good a place to give up because I’d messed up.

“If you don’t want to do it,” Brock said, “I can drop by there one day after work and speak to one of the managers.”

“No, I’ll call and make an appointment,” I told him.

That’s what I’d done and that’s where I was headed now as the wind whipped through my hair.

I used my drive time to turn over all the plans in my head: my mother was coming home, and my brother and his family would be with her. Christopher would be thrilled about that. I was still searching for some kind of theme for the celebration, and I was thinking that I might have to give the wedding planner a call. At least I could get something out of the deposit that I’d lost after the cancellation.

I pushed aside those thoughts as I slowed my car and signaled to move into the left lane. I’d have to make a U-turn at the next corner and then pull around to the front of the restaurant.

As I edged to the left, I glanced across the street to the front of Rendezvous, and then I slammed on the brakes. I frowned at first—there was no way that I could be seeing what I saw. It wasn’t until the car behind me blared his horn that I drove a few inches, then made that illegal U-turn. But I didn’t pull up in front of the restaurant. I eased my car over and stayed a few feet back.

And then my mouth opened wide.

Once again, there was Quentin and Jett.

And this time, they were in an embrace. And not a buddy-buddy brother-man hug. This time, there was no conjecture. This embrace was real.

And so was . . . the kiss. The kiss that came next. Their prolonged kiss. On the lips. Not friends. Clearly lovers.

“Oh, my God!”

I slipped down just a bit in my seat and willed myself to close my eyes. If I didn’t see this, I wouldn’t have to do anything.

But it was too late.

I saw everything.

Then Quentin slipped into one car, and Jett slid into the next.

And I stayed where I was watching, not believing, stone-cold shocked.

But then my shock began to dissipate and I was pissed. I was mad at everyone and everything. No one had listened to me. From Christmas straight through to this moment, I’d been called everything except crazy.

And now it turned out that I was the only one who’d seen the elephant in the room. I’d known it, and I’d been right.

All along, it had been in my gut.

I sat up straight and revved the engine. I’d have to reschedule my meeting with the Rendezvous manager.

There was something else that I had to do. Right now.

As I sped back down the boulevard, driving past everything that I’d just passed minutes before, I hit the Bluetooth on my steering wheel.

There were some calls I had to make.