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Cade knew how to dress the part when we stepped onto the patio, brimming with guests. Her demure gingham sundress is preppy; it’s proper. Redix impressed me. Only he could wear seersucker pants and make them look like he didn’t leave his perfect balls at the door. Because that’s what most men look like in preppy fashion. Like they got money but no balls.
Cade flatly refused to let us wear bowties, though. “They’re lady-boner killers,” she warned, so we both opted for crisp, white linen button-downs.
Jaws dropped at the sight of us entering the party. “Just a small one,” my mom had said. A few hundred people under a big event tent in the backyard, with dozens more spilling onto their long dock out to the river.
I knew heads would turn for Redix Dean. He’s a global celebrity, a local legend, and a visual orgasm wearing flip-flops.
But then he stayed by my side the whole time. We didn’t hold hands, but our shoulders brushed. Our smiles were wide for each other. His whisper in my ear was often with his sexy taunts like, “You make khakis look way too hot.”
It’s obvious to everyone we’re very close.
And then there’s Cade. People knew her, too. From her modeling. From the famous ad she did with Redix and all the paparazzi photos since. And she’s in the local news some.
When she holds my hand with pride, her smile captivates, and everyone turns her way. You can’t hide her statuesque beauty under any dress. And you can’t miss how she’s not intimidated. Not even by the South’s most judgmental characters.
For two hours, we worked the crowd. We had lots of admirers, and Dad made the introductions. When he did, he didn’t lie. I am friends with Cade and Redix. I do fish with her, and I did sell him his boat.
But Dad knows the three of us are much more, and it starts to ease into his shoulders. Over the hours, he’s wearing “used to it” pretty well.
So I meet him halfway.
I’m all smiles, handshakes, and chats, but I don’t shove my unconventional relationship down the throats of my dad’s closest friends.
Not yet.
I don’t hold Redix’s hand or kiss him too. Though I want to. And the affection between Cade and Redix is minimal. Mostly for this show, you can sense they still have shit to work out.
Mom doesn’t need any time. She adores Cade and swoons for Redix.
We finally get a break from the crowd by hiding in the kitchen. Chatting with my mom, who’s fussing over deviled eggs the catering staff is taking out to the guests, Cade asks her, “So what was Silas like as a kid?”
“A blond water rat.” She winks my way. “I could always find him down by the river.”
“Did you grow up in this house?” Redix looks around at all the crown molding and my mom’s penchant for anything regal and yellow.
“Yeah.” I sip my iced tea and wonder how much has changed since I left. Nothing probably. But what about…
“Your room’s still the same.” Mom reads my mind. “I kept it waiting for you.” She swishes over to me, giving me a peck. “Give them the grand tour. I’ve got guests to tend to.”
It’s almost embarrassing the opulent rooms I stroll Cade and Redix through. Room after room of yellow, coral, and green and everything pineapples and palm trees. All formal. All colorful. All very southern.
I save my bedroom upstairs for last. It’s at the end of the owner’s hallway, and I hesitate to open it. It’s like stepping back into innocence before all the pain.
“Hey,”—Cade caresses my shoulder—“let’s go forward, remember?”
I turn to her, giving her a kiss and taking my own advice. Bedrooms may not change. But people can.
I open the door, and even the smell is the same. Clean linens. Lemon-polished furniture. A waft of leather and boy are still in the room.
“Dude,”—Redix picks up a framed photo of me playing lacrosse in high school—“I swear this could be me.”
“Yeah, rub it in.” Cade noses around my old desk. “Y’all both were pussy magnets in high school.”
“Only for yours.” Redix cocks an eyebrow while I shrug, guilty.
“What can I say?” I push open the white door to the ensuite bathroom. I used to love the giant tub in here. “I got around some.”
They follow me in.
