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Harper is the only woman I’ve ever let get close enough to truly know me, but I can’t help the doubts creeping in. Then again, I’ve been living those words on my own side of things since she left my driveway.
And it’s time to find out if they have proved true for her as well.
Sharply, I knock twice on the door and shove my hands in my jeans. The slight swelling in my ey
es has my vision blurry. The fatigue I feel after going six rounds before the trip here vanishes when the door opens. René stands in front of me in a black tank and blue jeans. He’s shorter than me, attractive and built. If I hadn’t seen his Instagram and known who he was, I would have been on edge with him answering the door, especially with his scrutinizing brown eyes and the way they’re taking me in. Nothing about this man’s appearance seems anything but hetero. That is until he opens his mouth and calls behind him.
“Oh, dear Christ. Mami! Santa came early, and my delivery finally chowed up!”
I can’t help my grin when he turns back to me.
“I dreamed ju. Thank ju, Hezuz.” He does the sign of the cross and blows a kiss to the heavens before lifting his hand on the frame and leaning in. “So, what should we do first? A picnic sounds so romantics.”
“It’s December.”
“Never underestimates the power of body heat.”
“Do you greet all strangers at your door like this?”
“If dey look like ju, jes.” He deadpans.
I shake my head with a grin. “Is Harper here?”
“And all my hopes, splat like shits.” I throw my head back and laugh. This guy is something else. He calls back over his shoulder again. “Harper, GQ just showed up, and he is hetero!” He turns back to me. “What’s jour name?”
“Lance.”
He opens his mouth and freezes, his expression turning grim.
“Lance?”
“Yes.”
He lifts a brow as I lift my chin, ready for the inevitable.
“Huh, I thought ju look familiar. Cowboy Lance.”
I cup the back of my neck. “Not exactly.”
He steps out into the hall, crowding me before yelling back into the apartment. “Never mind, Mami, it’s for me.”
“What the hell, man?” I say, backing up so he can close the door.
He crosses his arms, unfazed. “Aren’t ju about, oh, two years too late?”
“She’s here, right?”
“Oh, tough guy, che here, but ju are not welcome.”
“And why is that?”
“Because che smiles now, without being told to, that’s why.”
It’s like a knife to my chest, but at the same time, it angers me. Why didn’t she reach out? I’m the one she left. If she had regrets, she should have voiced them to me.
“I just want a word.”
“No.”
