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“I’ll come to you,” I say.
“You better bring coffee,” he says, then hangs up.
He’s an asshole. But I like him. And I think he’s going to be receptive to what I have to say tomorrow.
This lawsuit, since it landed on my desk, has been nothing but a headache. But now it’s presenting me with a multitude of opportunities. I want to make Kingdom accountable, but I know the board and executive committee will never back me on it. So, I’ll find another way. This company is rotten from the inside out. If I’ve got to kill it to save the family name, I will. What’s left isn’t worth the paper its letterhead is printed on. And I want the family foundation that I control to be the source of the Rivers family influence.
And, I know just the lawyer to do it.
Confidence still isn’t talking to me. She left my house that day and spent a couple of days with Cass’s family in Rivers Wilde before she left for Arkansas. She refused to see me. I followed her home, and she made it very clear I wasn’t welcome.
It’s been a month and she’s returned every email and text I’ve sent with the same message, “I will never forgive you.”
I know she thinks she means it.
I mean to make sure she has no choice. Because living without her isn’t an option for me and this distance has only made that more apparent. It’s time to take control of this situation.
KINGS MEET
HAYES
“Can I have two coffees to go? One black. One with two creams and one sugar” I ask.
“Ah, you made up with Ms. Confidence,” the man behind the counter
says brightly as he rings up my order.
I’m in the middle of reading my email from Amelia, my new lawyer, and almost drop my phone at his words.
This is only my second time in here. I peer at his name tag that says “Lo”. “How do you know Confidence?” I ask quizzically.
“Oh, that girl was in here making juju dolls out of stirring straws with her friend for a couple days after the storm. They were all named after you,” he says and then laughs at whatever he sees on my face.
“What’s a juju doll?”
“Ah, that’s what we call them in Nigeria. Maybe here you call them voodoo? Like the Creoles?” He laughs.
“Oh. She made voodoo dolls and named them after me?” I ask and then glance behind me to see who was snickering.
The group of teenage girls all look away when I scowl at them.
“Yes, my man. My wife has been mad at me. But I’ve never had a doll made in my honor,” he says and hands me back my credit card. I’m so dazed I don’t even remember asking for it back.
“Thank you,” I say absently and stick it back into my pocket.
“And she took her coffee just like that, two creams, one sugar. So, I thought maybe one of those was for her.”
“No. Unfortunately, it’s not.” And I realize that I’ve been drinking my coffee like this since I met her. All of these subtle ways I’ve started to compensate for her absence in my life. I yearn for her in a way that claws at my insides.
“Well, we hope she forgives you soon and comes back. We liked having her around, and she loves my lattes,” he says boisterously.
“Okay,” I say, weirded out that he even cares.
I want to ask him to tell me more, but it’s too pathetic. So, I just smile. “Well, if she comes back, I’ll definitely make sure she has one every morning.”
“Don’t worry, son. It’ll be okay,” he says. I raise my brows to show that I’m not as confident as he is.
“Listen—in Rivers Wilde, we look out for each other. It’s that small-town nosiness imported to Houston. You’ll get used to it,” he says.
