This I Promise You (10 page)

“I remember Ma trying to be so strong and brave for me and the rest of the family,” Quentin went on somberly. “Dad’s parents and siblings were all struggling to cope with their own grief, so Ma wanted to hold it together for everyone. At the funeral, she was so dignified and composed as she accepted condolences from the mayor and the police chief and all the cops who’d come to pay their respects. She sat through all those moving eulogies with her back straight and tears falling silently down her face. No matter how emotional other people got, she never broke down completely, and she never let go of my hand.

“About three weeks later, I came home from school and found her curled up in a ball on her bedroom floor. She was clutching the American flag they’d given her at Dad’s funeral, and she was wailing like I’d never seen before.” Raw anguish etched Quentin’s words. “I remember feeling scared and totally helpless as I stood there watching her. In that moment, I wished like hell that she had her family there to comfort her. I’d never met any of them before, but I hated them for not being there. I hated them for deserting her.”

“Oh, God, baby.” Lexi sniffled, rubbing her cheek against his back and trying to stem the flow of her own tears. “I can’t even imagine how devastating that must have been for you to see your mom like that.”

“It was.” There was so much pain and anger in his voice that her heart broke for him. “So when you suggest that my uncle came here to make things right, believe me when I tell you that it’s too fucking late.”

Lexi closed her eyes against his back. “Is that why you didn’t tell me about his visit? Because you thought I’d try to talk you into forgiving him?”

“Maybe.” The sigh Quentin exhaled was long and ragged. “Or maybe it’s because I wanted to pretend his visit never happened. Maybe I thought if I just kept it to myself, things would stay the way they are. This may sound selfish, but I don’t want anything to rock the boat, know what I mean? For the first time in my life, I have everything I could ever want, and I’m scared as hell of losing it all.”

Heart aching, she held him tighter. “Don’t think like that. You’re not going to lose everything.”

He shook his head sadly. “My father probably thought the same thing.”

It was a sobering thought that caused Lexi’s throat to constrict. After a few moments, she dropped her arms and stepped around in front of him.

He stared down at her without speaking. The darkness and anguish in his eyes were haunting.

She took his hand and led him over to the sitting area by the fireplace. With a gentle nudge, she guided him toward the sofa, eased him down onto it and then settled astride him.

Taking his face between her hands, she peered deep into his eyes before she spoke. “No one would blame you for rejecting your uncle’s olive branch.
I
certainly wouldn’t blame you. What they did to your mother was inexcusable, and I’m sure your uncle knows that. I’m sure he understands that your forgiveness is a gift he hasn’t earned.” She paused, her tone gentling as she stroked Quentin’s rigid jaw. “All that said, I want you to do something for me, baby. I want you to think about your father and the kind of man he was. From everything you’ve told me about him over the years, he had a very big heart. He not only doted on you and your mother, but he spoiled all his nieces and nephews and was always there for his parents and siblings. He absolutely loved his family and always put y’all first. Knowing how close your mother was to
her
family, what would he want for her right now? Would he want her to make peace with them? Would he want them in her life? What would he want for
you
?”

Quentin lowered his lashes, contemplating her questions in brooding silence.

She pointed to his heart. “If you look deep in here and find that there’s no room for compromise or forgiveness, I’ll completely understand. And you know I’ll support you. But whatever you decide to do, Quentin, you have to let your mom determine what’s best for
her
. She didn’t get a say in losing her husband and becoming a single mother. I think she’s earned the right to decide whether or not to reconcile with her family, even if it means opening herself up to getting hurt again. It’s her journey, sweetheart, and you have to let her make it.”

Quentin leaned his head back against the sofa and stared up at the ceiling, pondering her words.

She waited.

After a long while, he blew out a deep breath and shook his head. Even without him saying a word, she knew she’d gotten through to him.

His arms went around her, pulling her down to his chest. She wound her arms around his neck and closed her eyes, taking comfort in his heat, his strength, the reassuring beat of his heart.

For a long time they sat there simply hugging and holding each other.

Rubbing his cheek against the top of her head, Quentin murmured, “What would I do without you?”

Lifting her head from his shoulder, Lexi cupped his cheek and gave him a smile full of fierce hope and promise. “If I have anything to say about it, you’ll never have to find out.”

9

A
t the office on Monday morning, Quentin and Marcus gathered in the large conference room for a videoconference with Lexi’s brother, Colby, and his wife Ava. Although the two young attorneys were the newest partners in Wolf & Reddick’s employment and labor group, they were among the best. They worked well together, feeding off each other’s energy and drive to win cases. Which was why they’d been sent to the firm’s Washington, D.C. office to provide assistance on a major employment discrimination lawsuit.

That morning, the couple sat next to each other at a long conference table with a view of the Washington Monument in the background. Sipping from steaming mugs of coffee, they provided an update on the new case, rarely interrupting each other and apologizing when they did. Although they spoke with brisk efficiency and maintained a professional demeanor throughout the meeting, a blind man could see the chemistry between them. It came through in their shared glances and warm smiles, the occasional touch on a hand or shoulder.

Even if Quentin and Marcus hadn’t been groomsmen in the couple’s wedding, they would have known that Colby and Ava were crazy about each other.

When the newlyweds had satisfactorily answered all their questions, Quentin remarked, “Sounds like things are in good shape over there.”

“I agree,” Marcus said from the other side of the large mahogany table. “We’ve got a strong case to take to trial.”

“Definitely,” the others concurred.

Colby said, “We know the lawsuit is going to draw a lot of media coverage—”

“—which will work in our favor,” Ava finished his sentence.

When they smiled at each other, Quentin and Marcus exchanged amused glances.

“Before I forget,” Ava said, turning back to the camera, “everyone sends their warm regards. Well…except the ones who are still mad at Marcus for ditching them to move back to Atlanta.”

Everyone laughed good-naturedly.

Flicking his wrist to glance at his gold Rolex watch, Marcus rapped his knuckles on the glossy table. “Let’s reconvene when you two get back next week.”

“Sounds good, boss,” Colby and Ava agreed.

As soon as the videoconference ended, a strikingly attractive young woman sashayed into the conference room. She pulled up short when she saw Quentin and Marcus seated at the table.

“I am so sorry,” she apologized in a breathy voice. “I thought the room was empty.”

“That’s all right,” Marcus said. “What do you need?”

She held up a stack of papers. “My manager sent me up here to get the room ready for our department meeting. But I can come back.”

“That won’t be necessary. We were just wrapping up.” Marcus waved vaguely at the table. “Do what you need to do.”

She beamed at him. “Thank you, Mr. Wolf.”

The newcomer was a curvy redbone with green eyes and long dark hair. She wore a snug red blouse that was unbuttoned low enough to show off her generous cleavage. Her tight black skirt was way too short to be considered proper business attire, and her spike-heeled pumps were better suited for a stripper pole than an elite law firm.

And Quentin would know, given how many strip clubs he used to visit.

“I’m sorry,” the young woman gushed, staring at him and Marcus. “Can I just say what an honor it is to meet two of the top trial lawyers in the country? I’ve read every piece you two have ever published and I’ve kept every feature article written about you. I loved last year’s
Esquire
cover so much that I’m still using it for the wallpaper on my computer at home. I’m a
huge
fan, so I’m thrilled and grateful for this amazing opportunity to work for both of you.”

Quentin and Marcus inclined their heads with unaffected modesty and thanked her for the kind words.

Marcus added, “Welcome to the firm, Miss— I’m sorry. I didn’t catch your name.”

“Chara Gibson,” she purred, gliding forward to shake his hand. “I work as a paralegal in product liability.”

“Ah.” Marcus sent a knowing glance at Quentin. “So you report to Judson Walsh.”

“Yes. He’s great, isn’t he?” As Chara leaned over the table to shake Quentin’s hand next, a gap in her blouse revealed a glimpse of her red lace bra.

Quentin deliberately cleared his throat. When she gave him a quizzical smile, he motioned toward her shirt. “Looks like you missed a couple buttons.”

She glanced down at herself, then let out a shocked gasp that was about as convincing as a used car salesman hawking a time machine. “Oh, my God. How did
that
happen?”

Quentin and Marcus gave each other an amused look that said:
Why is this chick tryna play us?

Any woman with an ounce of modesty would have turned away to discreetly compose herself. But Chara stood there just as bold as you please, taking her sweet time to fasten the buttons even as she fretted, “This is so embarrassing. And to have this happen in front of the head honchos?
Sooo
mortifying.”

She looked anything but mortified as she finished buttoning her blouse, then tossed her hair back and winked at Quentin. “Guess I’d better be more careful the next time I get dressed.”

“That’s probably a good idea,” Quentin dryly agreed.

She glanced down at the stack of papers in her arms. “Oops. I must have grabbed the wrong handouts.”

“Don’t you just hate it when that happens?” Quentin drawled.

She started to nod and then hesitated, unsure how to read his faintly mocking tone. When she looked to Marcus, he could barely contain his smirk.

“Well,” she said brightly, “I’d better go grab the right handouts. It was so nice to finally meet both of you.”

They inclined their heads as she turned and strutted out the door, hips swinging, long hair swaying back and forth.

After she left, Quentin and Marcus raised their eyebrows at each other, then started laughing.

“You know what? It doesn’t even surprise me that Judson’s the one who hired her,” Marcus said in amused disgust. He was referring to the manager of the firm’s product liability group. Although the twice-divorced attorney had a brilliant legal mind, some of his hiring decisions were questionable. He was a serious player, and more than a little color-struck. If it were up to him, every woman at the firm would look—and dress—like Chara.

Marcus shook his head wryly at Quentin. “As big of a manwhore as you were, even
you
knew how to separate business from pleasure.”

“Gee, thanks.” Quentin gave him the finger.

Marcus laughed, pressing a button on the speakerphone. “Mrs. Akonye.”

“Yes, Marcus?” his secretary’s thickly accented voice came through the intercom.

“Have you met Judson’s new paralegal?”

“I have.” Her tone was sour. “Funny you should ask about her. Judson was just at my desk looking for her. Apparently he sent her to make some copies of a report, and she disappeared. Don’t tell me she wandered off and found her way to the conference room?”

Marcus and Quentin shared a look of wry humor. “She did.”

Mrs. Akonye made a sound of disgust. “I knew that girl was trouble the moment I saw her. During her interview, she kept asking if she’d ever get to work with you and Quentin, as if that’s all she cared about.
Humph!
See, a lot of these young girls come here looking for a husband or a sugar daddy. She’s probably hoping one of you has a wandering eye. But she’s in for a rude awakening.”

Marcus chuckled dryly. “On that note, would you please go over our dress code with her and let her know we expect our employees to show up for work in proper business attire? This is a law firm, not a nightclub.”

“Amen,” Mrs. Akonye agreed.

“And if she gives you any pushback, just remind her that she’s still under the probationary period for new hires.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll set her straight,” Mrs. Akonye promised, clearly relishing the task.

“Thank you, ma’am. Appreciate it.” Marcus clicked off the speakerphone and shook his head wryly at Quentin. “The last thing we need is our wives showing up here and seeing female employees dressed like they’re going to the damn club.”

Quentin huffed out a laugh. “Tell me about it.”

Glancing at his watch, Marcus drawled, “And speaking of our wives, I gotta run.”

“Hot date?”

Marcus grinned. “I’m meeting Samara for lunch, so yeah, it’s always hot.”

“Nothing like some love in the afternoon,” Quentin said with a wicked grin.

“You would know,” Marcus teased, buttoning his suit jacket as he stood. “Afternoon quickies are a regular occurrence between you and Lexi.”

“Indeed.” Quentin grinned harder. “But I know you ain’t talking. Wasn’t it
your
wife who was caught creeping out of your office last week with her lipstick all smudged and her skirt on backwards?”

Marcus feigned innocence. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

They both laughed as they reached the double doors of the conference room.
Wolf & Reddick
was printed in bold blue lettering across the frosted glass. Without conscious thought, they each pulled open the door bearing their last name and strode out together.

As they headed down the corridor, Marcus nudged Quentin on the shoulder and grinned. “Did Lexi tell you about the betrothal contract?”

“The what?”

“Samara told me they want us to draw up some sort of betrothal contract for Milan and Junior.”

“For real?” Quentin laughed. “I know they’re always joking about those two growing up and getting married. Didn’t know it was that serious. What’d you tell Samara?”

Marcus quirked a brow. “I told her I need to wait and see what kind of young man Junior becomes before I commit my daughter to him.”

“
What!
” Quentin exclaimed, taking umbrage. “Damn, bruh. That’s cold. I’m your law partner. We grew up together. You know me.”

“All the more reason for me to carefully vet that boy of yours. Like father, like son.” Marcus laughed as Quentin mushed him on the head.

“That’s a’ight. I think I’ll let Junior sow his wild oats before he settles down.” Quentin winked. “You just make sure baby girl stays pure and innocent for my boy.”

Marcus snorted. “Nigga, please.”

They laughed and jawed good-naturedly at each other until they reached the elevators, where Marcus headed off to his noon tryst with Samara while Quentin continued toward the executive wing that housed their corner offices.

Entering his plush suite, he strode past expensive paintings and floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lined with thick law books. Reaching the massive mahogany desk, he dropped into the large leather chair and picked up his phone to return some calls.

As he brought the receiver to his ear, his gaze landed on two framed photographs on the edge of the desk. One was of Junior at three weeks old. He was wearing an adorable blue outfit from Asha’s popular infant clothing line. He lay propped up against a giant teddy bear as he beamed angelically into the camera, drawing adoring sighs from his mother, grandmothers and the photographer’s assistant. Junior had cooperated only after being fed, and if the photo session had lasted one second longer, things would have gotten ugly.

Smiling at the memory, Quentin set the phone receiver down and picked up the second picture of him and Lexi on their wedding day. It was a stunning portrait of them sitting on a hill high above the château in Burgundy where they’d gotten married. Lexi sat astride Quentin in a lush field of lavender, the shimmering white skirts of her princess gown swirling around them. They were gazing into each other’s eyes with their heads close together, their faces glowing with rapturous smiles. Lexi had looked so radiantly beautiful that day she’d taken his breath away. She still did.

Quentin smiled at her image, tracing it with his fingertips.

Just then the intercom on his desk buzzed. “Mr. Reddick, I’m heading out to lunch now,” his secretary informed him. “Do you need anything before I leave?”

“No, thanks, Frances. I’m good.”

“Don’t forget your lunch meeting with Mr. Hodrinsky at one-thirty.”

Quentin stared blankly at the phone.

“You forgot, didn’t you?” Frances said knowingly. “Even though it’s been on your calendar and your phone sends you reminder alerts, you still forgot.”

He grinned. He
had
forgotten. “That’s why I have
you
, Frances.”

“Uh-huh.” She sounded amused. “I’ll see you when I get back. Then again, no, you shouldn’t be here. One-thirty, Mr. Reddick. Don’t forget.”

“I won’t,” he promised. “Have a good lunch.”

“Thanks. You too.”

Quentin put his wedding picture back in its place. Then he leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers in front of his face, deep in thought.

After several moments, he pushed out a deep breath, then pulled his phone out of his pocket and speed-dialed his mother’s number.