A woman climbs out of the water, ready to towel off, and glances over at us, startled.
I almost choke on my laughter, watching these poor folks around us innocently trying to enjoy nature.
“Oh, you ain’t said nothing but a word. You’re playing with the right one, today!” I chuckle, tossing a king of clubs and taking the next book. And the one after that with a nine of diamonds. “Talk all you want to, but at the end of the day, you’re going to have to play those cards!”
But then the unthinkable happens.
I throw down a jack of hearts, and Ebony has the nerve, theaudacitywith all that trash talking, to slam down a queen of hearts.
“You have nothing!” She laughs like she just knows she’s got this game in the bag when I’m already off the bench, running and cackling like a fool, waving my towel like a goddamn checkered flag.
“Tell me you didn’t just renege?” I’m breathless and bent over in stitches. “I must be seeing things.”
Ebony just stares at me, beautifully waterlogged and utterly wrong, as she swears, “I haveneverreneged a day in my life!”
But as we go through hersixbooks, the evidence doesn’t lie. My four of hearts that she took with a three of spades—caught in the act.
“Trash.” I shake my head, narrowing my eyes playfully at her. “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you, but your Spadesgameis utter garbage, Ebony Grace—”
And just as I’m about to finish this victory…my phone trembles across the bench.
“It’s him.” I answer the call to confirm the chandelier pickup. “Yup, we’ll be there shortly. Thanks.”
When I get off the phone, Ebony and I slip into our dry clothes and pack our belongings. And even though she’s a sore loser and clearly still salty about the beatdown, we both fall in step, walking back to the car hand in hand.
The chandelier pickup is smooth, and the repairs are flawless—every crystal a perfect match and all affixed to the chandelier. So we’re on the road home in no time, the windows cracked just enough to let the warm breeze inside, music playing softly, settling us into the rhythm of the drive.
Not even half an hour in, though, I glance over at Ebony. Her head’s resting against the window, and she’s blissfully asleep.
But the closer we get to Ellswood, I envy her as that knot in my stomach returns with a vengeance. It grows tighter, feeding my dread that everything we’ve shared this weekend will change the second we cross the city line.
I nudge her gently, waking her as we near her place. “Hey there, sleepyhead. Almost home.”
She blinks, her eyes still heavy with sleep. “I don’t want to leave you,” she whispers, and without a second thought, I change course, headed for my house, knowing Ebony’s not worried at all. She’s happy being with me. I’m enough.
At least for now.
Chapter Nineteen
Sucker Punch
Ebony
The next morning, as muchas I’d love to stay in bed with Linc and pretend it’s still the weekend, it’s Monday, and the cruelty of adulting calls. Plus, there’s no way I’m walking into Madison Manor holding hands with him and grinning like I’ve spent the last two days getting properly laid. Even if it’s true, I’m not doing it in hiking boots and a swimsuit, with my hair looking like a bird’s nest after a windstorm.
“I can wait,” Linc says from the driver’s seat. “I don’t mind.”
I lean across the console, brushing my lips softly over his, lingering. “Thank you. But I’m fine. I won’t be long.”I hope.Lord knows, I need to do more than shower, considering the state of this hair. I spare him the manual-labor details of washing, conditioning, blow-drying, and flat-ironing. “Get that chandelier back and installed before the universe releases the Kraken on us.”
After he drives off, I rush to my door and unlock it only to discover my mother has shoved an envelope with my name—embossed, letter-pressed, and practically screaming pre-DC (Divorcétante Chronicles) Ebony—underneath.
“Ugh, Mother!” I groan, tossing it on the kitchen island. “How many times do I have to tell you that I’m not going?”
I stand here, tucking my nose under the collar of Linc’s T-shirt that I slept in, inhaling his scent. I’m in complete disbelief that this weekend wasn’t a dream.Ah,love.
And it’s not just about the love itself. It’s the fact that I’minlove with a man with whom I share a deep connection rooted in compassion, values, and ridiculously amazing sex. He’s so tender with me. So sweet. So…fine.
Plus, it doesn’t hurt that we’ve got a common enemy.
