Prologue 

Twelve Years Ago: Warwick

“Don’t embarrass me while we’re here,” my mother said from the front passenger seat of the Escalade my father drove. She was turned toward the backseat, her left hand braced against Dad’s headrest. It was a familiar position from which she’d been issuing warnings to me and my sister for twenty-odd years. It gave her a clear line of sight to pin Maggie and me with the stinkeye.

“Mom, we’re adults–” Maggie began.

“One of us is,” I muttered.

“One of us is,” she immediately mimicked in a ridiculously lowered voice.

“Agreed,” she said louder to our mother, and stuck her tongue out at me, “Mom, I’m an adult,” she continued. “You don’t have to warn your twenty-plus daughter about her behavior at a social function.”

“Twenty plus what?” I said to Maggie, then to Mom: “I really am twenty-plus-several years and I’ll keep an eye on my baby sister,” a kick aimed at my shins barely missed, “so you can relax. As long as Uncle G doesn’t start spouting off about how dad should’ve never left the family business and getting slick disrespectful.”

My father chuckled as he made a slow right turn in Manhattan traffic; Mom sent him a slicing side-eye.

“If your Uncle Godrick has words to say to or about your father, your father can more than handle it.” She rubbed her hand along the back of his head, smoothing his deep waves. “You two,” she said, turning the full force of her maternal warning eyes on us again, “will behave.”

She didn’t wait for an answer, knowing that the whole conversation had been nothing more than a nod to convention. Maggie and I were both too old to start any trouble, regardless of whether there was any conversation about my father’s arm of the Walker family tree deciding to branch in an unexpected direction.

That decision to branch off had been in the best interest of everyone involved; though not everyone liked to admit that fact. My father and his brother loved each other but didn’t see eye to eye on several important issues that would have spelled disaster had their success depended on each other. But their differences hadn’t kept me and my cousin, Godrick the third–Trey–from maintaining the brotherhood we’d begun before my father decided to move us south, to North Carolina, some twelve years ago. The move put us further from the toxicity of their sibling relationship and closer to my mom’s family. Most importantly, that move had let Dad invest in the floundering hotel that laid the foundation for the hospitality business I would one day take over. 

The phone in my pocket trilled. I pulled it out and tapped to answer.

“Yo, W.”

“What’s up, Trey?”

“Abe’s flight got delayed so we’re slow leaving. You’ll get there before we do.”

“Bet. No worries. We’re pulling up in about 10. Catch you when you get here.”

I cut the call and returned the phone to my jacket pocket.

“You excited to see your boyfriend,” Maggie taunted from her side of the second-row bench seat.

“See, that’s what’s wrong with women these days. They say they want a man who’s in touch with his sensitive side, a man who understands his emotions, but when you see two men with a healthy, supportive friendship, you trip.” I shook my head in mock despair. “When will you see me for the whole person I am? When will you evolve?”

“Whatever,” she sucked her teeth, then softened, “I know you’re looking forward to seeing him though. It’s been what? Six months?”

I thought about it, “Closer to a year. He’s been running between here and Europe. And I’ve been focused on the southeast. So yeah, time has passed.”

Mags was teasing but I truly was looking forward to seeing Trey. Seeing what kind of weight he was carrying from his father’s endless expectations. The old man loved Godrick but put so much on him. It was a stark contrast to his interactions with Trey’s younger brother, Abe. Uncle G seemed to almost forget Abe existed. And when he didn’t, he was spewing various forms of disrespect and dismissal. I’d seen Abe’s face after one of his tirades. It wasn’t a good environment and it wasn’t hard to understand why Abe spent little time around the family. Be he, too, loved his brother. And neither of us would miss tonight.

Trey had been featured on Forbes Magazine’s Thirty Under Thirty list. It was a huge accomplishment. And as much as we didn’t fuck with this side of the family, we all loved Trey. He was as opposite his father as any child could get…other than the driving need to conquer the world.

“Is he seeing anyone?” Maggie interrupted my thoughts.

“Actually, yeah. Says she’s ‘the one’ but it's early days still.”

“Well, that’s exciting. You old guys need to settle down before your seed dries up.”

I sputtered a laugh, “You don’t need to concern yourself with my seed. And I’ll settle when I’m ready.”

“Mmhmm.”

“Who else is going to be here, Dad?” Maggie asked. 

“The usuals. You’ll rekindle old acquaintances in no time.”

“I don’t have any old acquaintances here. I was ten when we left.”

“Trey’s new girl will be here,” I said. “I think she’s about your age. The two of you can play together.”

“Again, full grown over here,” she replied, skimming a hand down her front to draw attention to the fact that puberty hadn’t missed her.

“Still a baby over there,” I corrected, “and I’ll be watching to make sure none of these soft clowns forget it.”

“I promise I don’t need your help, big brother.”

“I promise you’re going to have it regardless,” I assured her. “I’ll let you know if I see anyone suitable.”

“Will you now?” I watched the sly light come into her eyes and wondered if I’d pushed too far. Mags was the best little sister anyone could ask for but she was sneaky and had some shit to her. If she decided she wanted to play games tonight, I could very well find myself on the losing end. I was too straightforward, too direct, to even begin to anticipate her convoluted shenanigans. 

“Mags,” I said in my most stern big brother voice. “Just focus on enjoying yourself.”

“Nah. I think I’ll focus on making sure you enjoy yourself.” She leaned back against the soft leather seats with a self-satisfied smirk. I caught my dad’s gaze in the review mirror. He just shook his head and chuckled.

The few minutes it took to reach the venue, pass the keys to the valet, and ride the elevator to the rooftop was not nearly long enough to deter Maggie from what seemed like rapidly developing matchmaking plans.

“You relax, big brother. I’ll have you all set up in no time,” she said as she and my mother scanned the room from the entryway. There was a sea of Black excellence in the room, one of the smaller ballrooms at the Drake Hotel. It was a historied location, well-respected, and on the list of ‘places to see and be seen’ for many of the elite African American crowd in Manhattan. But it was old…really old…and needed a renovation. If it were part of our portfolio, I’d do a full, but careful and respectful remodel. Then the lights wouldn’t have to be kept low to disguise the slight fraying at the edges of the wealth and status it displayed. 

Satisfied that the room held plenty of opportunities to get into trouble, Maggie and my mother wandered off toward one of the appetizer stations where a small group of women who looked vaguely familiar were gathered. Maggie tossed a nefarious eyebrow wiggle at me as she trailed off behind Mom.

“You set yourself up for that one, son,” my dad clapped a big hand on my shoulder, as we began a slow stroll around the room, navigating the light crowd of people. I expected we’d end up at one of the nicely stocked bars I’d spotted.

“I did, didn’t I?”

“She’s not completely wrong you know,” Dad followed up as he nodded at folks who nodded at him. “I’m not about to arrange a marriage for you like my brother is doing for Trey, but I wouldn’t be mad at another daughter and some grandbabies. I wouldn’t be made at all.”

“Arrange?” I asked because Trey had not mentioned this.

He shrugged. “Arrange may be a strong word. But I know they’ve had a young lady in mind for him for several years. I understand she’s who he’s dating.”

That was new information. 

“I see you’ll be following up on that,” he chucked. “But back to you, don’t wait so long that your mother starts taking pages from that book.” 

I laughed, not feeling pressured in the least. “I hear you, Dad. I’ll see what I can do.”

“I’m sure your mother would appreciate it. And I’ll deny it til the end of my days if you tell her I said that.”

“Noted. But you realize it’s easier said than done.”

He nodded. “Believe me. I realize. I’m not rushing you. Just providing direction,” he chuckled again, clearly amused at himself.

“Well, well…Warwick Walker…my eyes must be playing tricks.” The exuberant greeting had both my dad and I turning…we were both named Warwick, after all. After the requisite re-introductions and expositions about my size at the time of our last meeting, I excused myself to let my father and his acquaintance catch up.

Moving solo now, I cut a far more direct path to the closest bar. The turnout was good. I was glad to see so many folks showing up for Trey. He deserved it in every way. But it wasn’t so crowded that I felt like I might crush people. I knew, objectively, that I had learned to manage my size long ago. Time spent on the basketball court and, at my mother’s urging, in dance classes, had given me tight control over my body but I was still, simply put, a big man. Crowds weren’t my favorite; even in light ones like this, I had to be careful not to step on some tiny person.

Like now. The woman standing in line in front of me had spun around, each hand occupied by a glass of wine, and proceeded to almost plow right into me. I easily sidestepped to avoid the collision. But she overcorrected and began to teeter on the stilettos that adorned her feet. I plucked one of the glasses from her and took her now free hand to offer stability. Which was easy because again…I’m a big man, not easily moved.

“Oh, thank you,” she breathed, annoyance and relief fighting for dominance in her voice. 

“Of course,” I waited, holding the flute of champagne I’d taken from her, while she righted herself. She wasn’t tall, but neither was she short. I was an easy six-four and I could’ve dropped a kiss on the top of her head without much effort. I guessed five-eight without the heels.

I watched as she moved this way and that, verifying that no stray drops of the wine had marred her dress–a long quietly golden affair that hung in a slim, body-skimming line from the thin straps that criss-crossed her bare shimmery shoulders. The gold of the dress and the sparkling brown of her skin were a stunning combination. She hadn’t yet let go of my hand, and while I wasn’t exactly holding it…more acting as a convenient wall while she leaned her weight on me, that weight was oddly perfect, and the place where her skin touched mine, the wiggle of her fingers resting on my hand, the absolute trust she was placing in me to hold steady while she teetered and balanced…I waited patiently for her to finish and look up…the need to know what she looked like behind the waterfall of long dark hair was growing exponentially.

Satisfied that she’d escaped unsplattered, she huffed a little breath and slid her hand from mine. My fingers clasped, reflexively, around hers at the last moment and finally, finally, her gaze collided with mine when she glanced up in surprise.

Brown. But not brown like I’ve ever seen it. Her eyes were a rich, bottomless brown, like molten cocoa. Dark, enigmatic, hypnotic. And, maybe, interested? Nice. I’d like more of that, please.

She tugged her fingers again and I released them. I watched as she wiggled them a bit. Was she trying to dispel the same tingle I’d felt as she slid her hand away?

“All good?”

“I am. Thank you again. I didn’t realize you were there when I turned. I should have been paying closer attention.”

“It’s okay. I take up a lot of room. I should have given you more space.” I let my eyes skim her face cataloguing the warm shimmer-dusted toffee brown of her skin, the pink that rode high on her cheeks, the full spread of her glossed lips. Lips that were currently turned in a rueful twist.

“Well, yes, there does seem to be a lot of you,” she reached for the wine glass I still held. “I suppose you spend a lot of time apologizing for being in the way.”

I laughed because clearly, she had no concerns about hurting my feelings.

“Not anymore. High school, though? That was a different story.”

She grinned and my heart stuttered. Those full, glossy lips parted and the sun may as well have shone its light directly on me. I could feel my face freeze, knew I was staring stupidly but Jesus she was beautiful. And I knew what I’d seen when she first turned my way.

“I’m sure it was,” she laughed softly and that sound matched the warm beauty of her eyes, low and melodic.

“I’d be happy to tell you about it. Regale you with tales of my trampling small children and pets,” I joked, hoping to hear that velvet-wrappled chuckle again. She didn’t disappoint.

“That would be quite interesting I’m sure,” she said with another smile, “but I have to decline.”

Fuck.

“Why?” I asked and mentally slapped a hand against my forehead.

She let one eyebrow ride up.

“Am I required to offer an explanation?”

I felt the grin spread across my face. She took no shit. “Not at all. I fully respect your decision. I’m just curious as to what they should put on my tombstone when they find me dead of a broken heart in the alley outside.”

She rolled her eyes and the smile on my face spread further. Yeah, this woman was made for me. 

“Silly.”

I laid a hand on my chest, clutching my pearls. “Silly? Never that. But I am curious. You can, of course, tell me to fuck off. But what is it that’s keeping us from taking the first step in the rest of our lives together?” I waggled my eyebrows at her to make that statement a little less corny.

Another eye roll. “Perhaps my boyfriend? The one I’m happily committed to and waiting for to arrive.”

Fuck, again.

I’d never been one to roll up on another man’s woman. That shit was low. But I know dudes who moved by the mantra ‘If you leave the door open, I’ll invite myself in.” I wondered if her man had left his door cracked.

“Lucky man,” I commented while I tried to formulate a reply that would firmly express my interest and willingness to steal her from whatever punk-ass relationship she currently thought she was in without sounding like a total asshole.

“I’m the lucky one,” she said; a little smile tilted her lips. I felt an answering twist somewhere in the center of my chest. “I’m actually meeting his best friend tonight. Well, technically, his cousin.”

Fuuuuuck. Please, Lord. No.

“Duece!” I heard from somewhere behind me. It was Trey. I turned to see him and Abe striding my way.

Well, shit. I turned to the woman I was trying to close to see her focused on Trey, face lit, smile bright. Whatever passing interest I may have seen flit across her face was nothing compared to this.

Trey shot me a grin, dropped a quick pound against my raised fist, and walked right past me to pull the woman into a respectful-of-her-finery hug and drop the kiss I’d been thinking about on top of her sleek head.

“You two would find each other. Liz, this is Warwick. Deuce, this is Elizabeth, my fiancee.”

“Fiancee?” I felt my world tilt again, my stomach swooped before righting itself, a hard hot knot settling low in that organ.

I watched emotions play across Elizabeth’s face. She was nervous, wary. 

“It’s an aspirational title,” Trey said before coming back to me for the slap and hug of our greeting. We held the hug for a moment…it had, after all, been over a year since we’d been physically in the same room.

“It’s good to see you, guy.”

“You, too. You, too. We have to do better.” The words were low, heartfelt. 

“Agreed,” I held a moment longer, another thump on the back and release. Then, to the woman who’d caused my whole future to flash before my eyes, I said, “It’s good to meet you–officially– Liz.” 

Trey resumed his position beside her, pulling her into him. It was a position she willingly took and leaned into. I slid my hands into my pockets, contemplating. I decided to air it all out. It felt like the quickest way to dispel the faint worry that I thought I saw in Elizabeth. 

Oh, you know all her moods and secret thoughts now, I guess. 

I chuckled at myself before speaking again. My words were directed at Trey. My gaze was on Elizabeth. “You showed up just in time, my guy. I was just in the process of asking your girl out.”

Trey laughed, unbothered. “It’s your impeccable taste that has let our friendship last this long. I’d’ve worried about my own decision-making if you hadn’t.” He let his hand slide from Elizabeth’s waist to take one of the glasses she still held. He sipped and took her free hand in his to hold it by his side. She leaned further into him. 

“And how’d that go for you?” Abe asked, turning from the bar where he was placing his order. I signaled him to order for me, too, before responding.

“She shot me down immediately. Some shit about a wack ass boyfriend,” I joked, comfortable in the knowledge that Trey knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that I would never move on his girl. Because I wouldn’t. Not knowingly, at least. Lizzie–I wondered if people called her that–was now my sister for all practical purposes.  

“Her taste is also impeccable.” Trey quipped, his full attention on his beautiful girl.

I took a stiff swallow of the bourbon Abe passed my way. “Well, welcome to the family, Lizzie. You chose the best of us.”