My pulse ticked under my skin as I stared straight at him. He tilted his head back, the sun catching on his skin as he let out a low, unbothered laugh at whatever Laurene said. That smile—lazy, cocky, boyish—curled at the edge of his mouth like he didn’t just crash my damn party.
I couldn’t stop staring at his lips.
God, I remembered the way they felt against my neck. The way they moved when he called me baby in that voice low enough to crawl under my skin and stay there.
I hated him.
“Serena!”
“Yes, ma’am,” I responded instantly.
Daddy appeared. He moved with quiet authority, his warm gaze landing on me first before flickering over to the Whitmores. The color drained from his brown skin.
“Serena,” he said gently, placing a steady hand on my shoulder when he got to us. “You holding up okay?”
“I’m fine, Daddy.”
“Vincent,” Mama hissed. “This is exactly what I didn’t want.”
“I know, Vonnie,” he said, his tone steady but firm. “But we need to handle this carefully. You, Laurene, and Serena put so much into this event, and the last thing we need is a scene. Today is about Laurene and our future granddaughter. Let’s focus on that.”
Mama seemed to deflate. Her lips pressed into a thin line, but she didn’t argue. With that, Daddy gently guided Mama and me toward the Whitmores and Laurene.
“Vince. Miss Yvonne.” Miles gave a smile so smooth it nearly slid off his face. “Well, damn. Y’all still look allergic to joy.”
Nobody laughed, and I narrowed my gaze. “Still with the same bad jokes, huh?”
“Still uptight, I see,” he snapped back.
Reese tried to reduce some of the tension. “Thanks for coming and bringing a gift. Please tell me it’s that baby saddle I wanted.”
Miles made everything a joke—because that’s what feelings were to him. Punchlines. Deflections.
But that’s what made us work, wasn’t it?
CHAPTER 4
Serena
“Please tellme you didn’t come to ruin this celebration. Haven’t you done enough?” Mama snapped at the Whitmores.
“Can’t ruin something we wereinvitedto,” Miles replied.
I’d been careful to avoid the places he haunted, to rewrite my routine in a town we once shared. Still, every now and then, he’d slip through the cracks. Like that night a few months ago—dinner, some girl on his arm, laughing. Before that, that encounter at Café L’Amour.
Here he was. Again. And damn it if my heart didn’t remember how to ache.
“Excuse us for not rolling out the welcome mat. I don’t forget how someone we trusted attacked us and ruined over thirty years of friendship,” Mama continued. “Should I have security come now or later?”
“That’s behind me,” Omar snapped. “You don’t need to keep bringing it up, Yvonne.”
“I know you’re not talking,” Mama shot back. “Still snorting? Or just sticking to the pills now?”
I was so transfixed with Miles I didn’t feel Erik come up beside me and stand next to Mama. He remained silent.
Instinctively, Miles and I stepped forward. He was sweating and breathing hard; his cologne was strong and really familiar. Sharp. Male. Trouble.
Too close. Not close enough.
