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The main and upper levels on each wing housed an owner’s suite on every floor and two other bedrooms for a total of twelve and two additional rooms on the basement level. It was completely possible for me to live here and never see Ez or his wife if that was my choice. He continually made that point each time I presented the argument of wanting to get a small place in the city.
Regardless of the space, I hadn’t settled on the idea of living under the same roof as my mother. She and I hadn’t spoken since she’d chosen her side after our brother’s funeral. Ez assured me that she spent the majority of the year traveling and when she wasn’t, she owned a condo closer to town at Millennium. That was the only reason I agreed to consider living at our family home. However, that didn’t prevent the tension that pulsed down my spine with every breath inhaled since being here.
“Sorry I’m late. Got stuck in a meeting about the permits for the community centers we’re trying to build for Crescent Manor and Crescent Ridge at the end of the year.”
“Isn’t that going to be a waste of time and money? It’s been done before and each time, they’ve failed.”
“It hasn’t been done by us. White people tossing a handout to a less than fortunate community will always fail. Us taking care of our own, investing time and money in things that they ask for allows them to be seen, heard, and appreciated. There’s a very big difference between feeling appreciated and feeling like charity case.”
My brother was the humanitarian type. A side of him that my father hated but I had always respected.
When I didn’t acknowledge my brother his footfalls signaled he was moving toward me. He stepped into my view, eyes cautious as he stared at me. “You okay?”
His definition and mine varied greatly but I wouldn’t bring that to his attention. “I’m fine.”
The thick cloud of tension and my anxieties about being home slammed together but I didn’t feel like I was slipping…
Yet.
He offered a tight nod. “How long have you been here?”
“Not long. Ten, maybe fifteen minutes.”
“In the same spot?” He arched a brow in question.
I smirked. “If I say yes, are you going to ask me if I’m okay again?”
“No, according to the call I got from Christian on the way over, I’m convinced you’re just fine.”
“I’m the one marrying his sister. What’s he calling you to complain about me for? Any issues he has, he and I can discuss, like men. I thought we already had.”
“You did but after the way you handled the situation at her studio, Christian was worried, Lias. Regardless of the agreement, she’s still his sister and he needs to know that she’s in good hands. That you will take what’s best forherinto consideration.”
“Isn’t that what I did? That muthafucker was talking to her like she was beneath him and worse, like he had the right to address her that way. He doesn’t.”
Ez remained quiet but the smug ass grin on his face was vocal enough.
“Say it?”
He slipped his hands into the pockets of his suit pants. “Are you sure you’re up for this?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“There’s always a choice…”
As long as you’re prepared to handle the consequences.
When we were younger, Ez and I questioned everything. The demands placed on us were more than we wanted at times and the answer was always the same. There’s always a choice if you’re prepared to handle the consequences. Our father repeated that statement so much it was ingrained in both mine and my brother’s head.
“I’m fully prepared to handle theconsequencesof backing out of this deal, but are you?”
His expression shifted. “I’ll do anything for you, Lias.Anythingand if marrying Cress is not healthy for you, I’ll find another way.”
Anything.
Years ago anything translated to stepping up to fill the void I left behind when our father needed a protégé.
I laughed arrogantly. “There is no other way. Not without there being more blood on your hands and that’s not who you are.” I turned to him. “I’ll be fine. This is a contract. A business deal. That’s all.”
