Vérité (33 page)

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Authors: Rachel Blaufeld

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Tiberius gave me a patient, long-suffering glance. “Rex, it’s a one-bedroom apartment. You’re all over me and I’m all over you. Which, don’t get me wrong, I like. But when I buy a TV that’s actually a TV and not the size of a microwave, it’s gonna take up the whole joint, and you’re gonna be pissed. Plus, I want to put an Xbox there, and it’s gonna be loud as shit. You’ll have nowhere to go, and we’ll fight like a bunch of sorority girls.”

I turned to look at him and willed myself not to cry. I’d just thought to myself a few minutes ago how happy I was, and now this. It wasn’t our first disagreement, but it was the first one to cut through my heart like a knife through butter.

“So, you’re moving out,” I said, doing my best not to full-on pout. “I thought you liked ordinary. What’s wrong with my TV?”

“No, T. I’m not moving out.
We’re
moving out.”

Just then, the door on the left side of the brownstone opened and Jamel strutted out in his standard low-riding basketball shorts and bright red-and-purple slides.

“Yo!” Tiberius shouted.

“Welcome home, Rexie,” Jamel hollered.

“Wait! We’re living with Mel?” I squinted at Tiberius, shooting him a death glare. This was actually getting worse, not better. He knew I loved Jamel, but living with him was a whole different story.

Jamel had been picked up by the same team as Tiberius in the second round of the NBA draft. We’d held our breath until the rumors came true . . . Jamel and Tiberius were an unstoppable combo, and now they had their chance in the big league.

But that doesn’t mean we have to live together!

“We bought the whole building. We got half and Jamel has the other. Mel and I are partners, fifty/fifty. It was a good investment and I’m not about to throw away my signing bonus on rent. Plus I need a quiet place to study and finish my courses.” He winked, knowing he had me when he mentioned studying. He’d promised he would finish his degree, and he was well on his way. No matter what happened with his pro career, Tiberius would have a fall-back plan and a degree in business.

I shut my eyes and braced myself for the revolving door of women I’d witness over the next few years.
None of them Stacy.
She was living in Philadelphia, working as an assistant coach for one of the universities there. We’d kept in touch since she graduated with a degree in sports management a year or so ago. Chey was in law school in New Jersey, and I thought that I’d see them regularly with my moving to New York. Now that I was practically shacked up with Jamel, I doubted I’d see them much.
At least, at my place
.

Deep down, I knew Jamel to be a solid guy. He was like an M&M, soft and smooth on the inside, a hard candy shell on the outside. But he was a green one, always horny; the guy couldn’t keep it in his pants. Suffice it to say, his girl back home broke up with him when she heard he’d knocked someone up. He tried to make a go of it with Stacy, but he couldn’t keep his dick out of the cookie—ball baby—jar.

“Say something,” Tiberius said in my ear.

It occurred to me that I’d been standing there dumbfounded, just staring at the daunting piece of New York real estate. I gave myself a mental shake, then tried to string some words together.

“It’s beautiful, huge . . . I don’t know what to say. I can’t believe you bought this! Your mom would’ve been happy that you’re not throwing your money away, but this is too much for me. I mean, really—”

“Wanna see the inside?” he asked, cutting me off.

My mind raced, trying to focus on a bigger issue than having Jamel as a roommate. “But what about the money for this? I can take some out from the trust and go in on half of it—”

Tiberius placed the tip of one long finger over my lips. “Rex, I got more money than I know what to do with, and the trust . . . I don’t need it. It’s yours. We can give it to our kids.”

“What?”

“Our kids.” It came out so matter-of-factly, rolling off his tongue easily, as if he’d never doubted we would have kids.

“This is all too much. And kids? We never really discussed that,” I said, punching Tiberius in the arm. I glanced at Jamel, but he just shook his head and went back inside his half of the house, apparently not wanting to deal with our bickering.

Tiberius flung his arm around me and held me close. “Because you’d run away from me a thousand miles an hour if I mentioned it. Like now, you’re going over ways to speed away in your head. I know it.” Smiling down at me, he said in a low voice, “I don’t mean now for kids. Later. You know I like to take things slow, and I’m not ready to share you, T.”

When I just stood there, stunned, he chuckled and said, “Come on, let’s go look inside, and then you can start banging on your phone and figure out when we can move in.”

I scanned the street, looking for an alley, a quick escape, but Tiberius tightened his grip on me and led me toward the door.

As we stepped through the entry, I immediately fell in love. Exposed brick lined the hallway. To the left was an empty sitting room with a long wall opposite a gas-burning fireplace surrounded by an intricately carved mantel.

“That’s where my TV’s gonna go,” Tiberius said, confirming my suspicions with a chin lift at the plain wall.

To the right was a dining room; in the back was a small alcove entry that led to a gourmet kitchen and a glassed-in sunroom in the back.

“That’s your room to get away from me,” Tiberius teased.

“And where I don’t have to watch the girls coming and going from next door,” I shot back.

He shook his head. “I think you’ll be surprised. Jamel is making all kinds of changes. He’s even promised to help me study on the road.”

I raised my eyebrows, but didn’t have time to say anything else because Tiberius pressed me up against the glass partition between the kitchen and the sunroom. His tongue teased my lips, swiping my mouth, sending a roiling wave of heat between my thighs.

When the glass was sufficiently fogged up, he winked and said, “Want to see the master bedroom?”

I squinted up at him. “There’s no bed, though.”

“That’s okay . . . we don’t need one. Hasn’t stopped us before, Rex. Remember the pavilion?” He winked and grabbed my hand, dragging me toward the staircase lined with a spindled banister painted an antique white.

Upstairs, I was surprised to find a blanket spread out on the master bedroom floor along with pillows and a bottle of champagne, and a fire roaring in the corner fireplace. Twinkling lights were strung across the ceiling, reminiscent of the pavilion, and soft R&B played in the background.

Raising my eyebrows, I said, “How?”

“Jamel and a little help from a secret helper. You like?”

“It’s perfect. Stunning. But how did you know you’d get me back here? Seems like you knew we were gonna do this all along.”

“Rex, I know all your little escape and avoidance tactics. You were gonna suggest takeout at home no matter what.”

He leaned down and kissed me, melding his lips with mine, and my body pressed against his. With an audible smack, he released my lips, and I protested with a long whimper until I saw him dropping lower, yet he didn’t stop at my pulsing core like I expected. Instead, his knee hit the floor and he came up on one bended knee, his face level with my abdomen as he shoved his hand into his pocket.

My whole body began to tremble at the thought of what he was about to do. First a house, and now he was going to do . . .
this
?

“Get up, Tiberius!” I demanded as heat climbed up my cheeks and my limbs trembled from nerves.

He shook his head. “Nope, I’m going to do what I came down here to do.”

“You’ve done enough,” I insisted as I tried to pull him up. “You’re enough. You, the guys, and the way you all took me in when I had no one else. This house, and being here in New York, I don’t need anything more. Life is extra-ordinary enough. Don’t you think?”

He took my hand, twining his fingers with mine, and he squeezed tight. “Babe, I need to do this. So let me.”

Although I felt like my stomach had fallen through the floor, I gave his hand a light squeeze and promptly shut my mouth.

Tiberius gazed up at me, the emotions swimming in his eyes making them appear bluer than usual. “Tingly, will you marry me? Tie your T with mine and leave our pasts in the past, and make an extra, extra-ordinary future together?”

Despite growing up in Los Angeles, the ultimate La La Land, I’d never believed in fairy tales. But here I was, experiencing my very own happily-ever-after, and it completely overwhelmed me.

“Ouch!” he yelped.

“Sorry,” I squeaked out. “I didn’t mean to squeeze your hand that hard. I’m just so happy! I don’t know, I never imagined this, and here you are asking me to marry you!” I slid down to the floor in front of Tiberius and cupped his cheek with my hand, then whispered, “Yes.”

His dimples winked at me as he slid the small ring on my finger, an antique setting with sapphires flanking a center diamond, before laying me down on the blanket. The fire crackled, its flames casting shadows all around us while the lights sparkled above.

Tiberius didn’t lie; we didn’t need a bed.

All we needed was each other, and the truth.

 

 

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Read more of Rachel Blaufeld in
Redemption Lane
, Book One in the
Crossroads
Series.

Bess

Back then . . .

 

“U
gh, shit. God damn,” I mumbled to myself as I stood up, holding my hand to my forehead while I stumbled toward the kitchen.

I’d woken up curled in a ball on the floor, my cheek resting in a tiny puddle of drool on the rug immediately inside my front door. Nipples peeking through my tiny white crop top, skinny jeans stuck to my body, and knee-high black leather boots completed my look.

I know, not a very glamorous situation for a twenty-one-year-old coed. But pretty much my daily ritual.

Standing, I held my palm to my forehead, running it over my cheek as I tugged cobwebs of hair out of my mouth. Memories of the night before flooded my brain as my feet tried to remain steady on the floor.

“Ouch,” I said to myself.

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