I raised a challenging brow. “Are you speaking from experience?”
“Mostly. I know someone like you.” She shot me a pained look and, suddenly, I wanted to hold her, to comfort her. But we weren’t there. Not yet anyway.Maybe never. “Anyway, can you answer the question?”
“Is it going to help you uncover Ms. Tea’s identity?”
She hunched a shoulder. “Maybe.”
A host approached us, offering us one of the signature drinks—Granny’s fave, French 75. Albany smiled, thanking him and grabbing one of the cocktails. I followed suit, slipping a tip onto the tray.
Once the man was out of earshot, I turned my attention back to her. “It feels like you’re asking for details about my sex life,” I teased.
She rolled her eyes and took a sip. “Trust me, there’s not enough alcohol in this drink for that.”
Folding my arms over my chest, I said, “I told you … she’s a beautiful woman.”
Scowling, she pressed, “Just admit it. Candice was a challenge for you. Forbidden fruit. You were only interested because Granny told you to stay away. It’s a game, just like the one you’re trying to play on me.”
Stepping closer, I murmured, “I’m not playing you.”
She nodded, retreating from me, putting unwanted distance between us. “You are. Teasing and flirting with me is only going to piss me off more. You’ve always been charming, but I’m not the same girl you left in the carriage house. Naked.”
I scanned the immediate area, assured that no one was within earshot of us. “Bug, I know that. I’m not flirting with you,” I lied. Because I absolutely was. And I’d done it intentionally and without regard for how she might feel. I was an asshole for that.
“Do you? Because it feels like you think you can just waltz back into my life, call me Bug, and smile at me. And smell good. Then, I’m what? Supposed to just giggle like a schoolgirl and drop my panties for you? Let you crack open the heart that you broke years ago, that I spent years trying to piece back together again?” She held her chin up high. “The only thing you’re doing is insulting my intelligence.”
Since she’d walked back into my life, I’d wanted to have a conversation with her that didn’t devolve into harsh words. As crazy and delusional as it sounded, I wanted my friend back. “That’s not what I think. Albany, please …”Please what, exactly?I couldn’t finish the sentence because I had no idea what the hell I wanted to say. Because I had no good answer. I deserved her anger. I deserved her wrath. Ididn’tdeserve her forgiveness. I didn’t deserveher. “I just want you to know how sorry I am.”
“I didn’t hear an apology,” she tossed back, fury in her eyes. “And stop looking at me.”
I searched her eyes. “I can’t stop.”
Her eyes closed. “Just go,” she whispered.
“I wish I could honor your wish, but I”—I sucked in a deep breath—“I don’t want to walk away.”
Albany arched a brow. “Again?”
Shots fired.
She set her still-full glass down on the cocktail table closest to us. “Like I said,” she continued, “it doesn’t matter. But just so you know … I’m not interested. I’ll let you know if I find out anything new about Ms. Tea. Have a good night.”
Before I could object, she breezed across the room, then disappeared out of sight.
The bartender slid another drink across the bar, and I immediately put the glass to my lips. The smell of the cognac soothed something in me, made everything feel better—even for just a minute. I took a sip, closing my eyes as the amber liquid burned its way down my throat, settling in my gut.
It had been a long week, an even longer month. My career was in temporary wait-and-see mode, Granny still wouldn’t look at me without rolling her eyes, and Albany … Over the years, I’d thought about how it would feel to see her, to talk to her. I always imagined she’d be angry, but the reality of her disdain was a much harder pill to swallow.
“Drinking already?”
I’d already had my ass handed to me by Albany, but I wouldn’t give Jackson the satisfaction of a reaction. “Don’t you have someone’s ass to kiss right now?” I grumbled.
My cousin Jackson stood next to me. “I wouldn’t call networking kissing someone’s ass, Wes.”
I hated Jackson’s voice, his mannerisms. Hell, I almost hated him. The only reason I didn’t was because I felt sorry for him. While Cedric’s legacy had cast an indelible shadow on me and Erica, I considered myself blessed that I didn’t have to grow up with my uncle. Every single one of John’s children was fucked up. Trust-fund babies who didn’t know how to think their way out of anything. They had no common sense and acted like entitled jerks.
“I’m networking,” Jackson added.
I snickered, downed the rest of my drink, and quickly ordered another. This one would be my last. I needed to be on my toes during this event. “Good for you,” I said, not even bothering to hide the sarcasm in my tone.
