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“They do. They were all surprised but very okay with the news. Sorry, Cec. Jetsetters are the last to know.” At the moment, Cecily is traveling the world with her husband and could not be reached via video chat when I called a Williams family meeting.
“May I say something?” Cecily asks. And now I know the baby of the family is about to drop some major truth.
“You may,” I said, holding my breath.
She clears her throat. “I remember when you were first dating Augie; you only told me about. I didn’t understand why, but I think I know now. At Christmas at Michael’s cabin, when Diana and Leo had just gotten married, everyone was teasing me about my celebrity stalker. You said nothing. That was two years into your relationship. You never revealed who you were dating until you got engaged last year. And I think you stuck with him for six years as a reaction to everyone else’s whirlwind romances. You thought slow and practical was the way to go. And that’s fine. But I think something inside you always knew he wasn’t the right guy for you. He liked you when you were struggling but became jealous and weird when you succeeded. So, you saved yourself a lifetime of heartache. I’m proud of you.”
And that clinches it. I knew I’d done the right thing, and now I really know. My whole family has my back, and that’s a good feeling.
After hanging up the phone with Cecily, I make my way to my apartment and think about all the ways I’m going to not think about my ex-fiancé tonight. I’m going to order a pizza and binge-watch Charmed.
What greets me inside, however, is the opposite of that. A living room full of wedding gifts, all having been sent by guests before the
wedding gift registry was deleted from the system. All must be returned, half of them to Augie’s relatives and business associates. I only have myself to blame; I’d given the apartment key to my neighbor for exactly this reason.
So much for self-care.
“Tomorrow,” I sigh, side-eyeing the stacks of boxes as I trudge to my bed.
Chapter Ten
Cherise
I’m just about finished washing my hands to prepare for breakfast when Bishop bursts into the kitchen.
“You’re back,” he says, but doesn’t look like someone who’s happy to see me.
He approaches with a look on his face like someone desperately out of luck. I’ve seen that expression a lot in Las Vegas, and it gives me pause. What has he been up to?
I dry my hands on my towel and say, “Bishop, have you been drinking?”
This is not the homecoming I was expecting from my friend and boss. His eyes are bloodshot, he looks tired as hell, and he hasn’t shaved in, I would guess, three days.
“Where have you been? I’ve been missing my breakfast.”
“Really? That’s all you have to say?” I set about sharpening my favorite chopping knife. “I’m not going to answer a damn question until you tell me what is wrong with you.”
“I’m fine,” he says. “Just missing your cooking.”
And right away, he realizes that was the wrong thing to say.
If cartoon steam poured out of my ears at this moment, I’m sure I couldn’t look any more upset. “Well, if that’s all you care about when I’m gone, then I guess it was a wasted trip!”
I don’t know what I’m saying. Of course, my trip to Charlotte wasn’t wasted. I did what I had to do for the next chapter in my life.
“What do you mean? No, wait. Never mind. I’m sorry. Shit on toast, this is not how this speech was supposed to go.”
My eyes flash into his wide, crazed hazel eyes that look as if he hasn’t slept in days.
“Speech? I don’t know what this means, but you’d better go lie down and have a nap, Bishop.”
There are murmurs all around us in the kitchen at the frank way he and I are speaking to each other.
I know people have been talking, wondering about the nature of my friendship with the big boss man. It may not be any of their business, but Bishop seems to be working hard to make it everyone’s business.
“Can you put down the knife, Cherise? I have to say something.”
I snort and say, “Go ahead and say it; I’m just chopping peppers for my cheese biscuits; I’m not going to stab anybody.”
