Page 107 of Tender Offer
My cousin is a man of few words, but he translates empty canvases into love letters. He’s a phenomenal painter whose work is in galleries in DC, where he lives, Miami, his hometown New Orleans, and now Harlem. It’s been months since we’ve seen each other, which makes tonight my treat.
We’re in a cocktail bar, catching each other up on life, our careers, and our nonexistent relationships. He’s three years post-divorce, and I’m—
I don’t know what I am.
Confused.
Frustrated.
Mourning?
With all my recent styling gigs, the days are longer, but not long enough to reach the depths of the void of not having Preston in my life.
“You should call him.” Joseph’s voice lulls me out of the regret that’s holding me hostage. It’s the same command Kojo declared. Joseph’s small smile is the one he’d offer when I scraped my knees trying to follow him and his friends around the ward on my bike. Joseph is five years older and more like a big brother than a cousin.
“Did you forget the part where he’s having a child with another woman?”
“A woman he keeps leaving to chaseyouaround, Maddie. How many cities did Preston magically appear in?”
I look away. “Two. Atlanta and Miami.” I’ve been waiting for him to pop out of the bushes here in New York, but it hasn’t happened.
“He needs to focus on his daughter,” I defend.
“And he will,” Joseph says. “From what you’ve told me, he doesn’t seem like the kind of man to abandon his responsibilities. His daughter won’t stop him from proving the place you hold in his life. Call him.”
“I’m afraid, Seph. I get hurt every time I allow myself to get close.”
He reaches across the small table and takes my hand. “If you give up now, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life. Don’t be like me. Love hard and don’t let go.”
Joseph is Uncle Remy’s son. They both translate their emotions into art—painting for Seph and jazz for mama’s brother. Seph doesn’t talk much about his divorce from Morgan, but he doesn’t have to. The pain of losing her is a reality he carries daily co-parenting their son, Duke. It’s been three years, and the longing hasn’t faded from his art. I catch him staring off into the distance to relive memories of happier times with her.
Neither of them has moved on. One day, I hope they’ll find their way back to each other.
“You should take your own advice,” I say. “I know you love her.”
“Never stopped.” A heaviness tightens his chest and rests in his sigh. The lump he tries to swallow lingers in his throat. “Too much time has passed us by. We can’t regain what we lost. For now, I live in the joy of raising our son.”
“Duke is the best,” I say.
Joseph returns my smile. “That he is.”
Nightfall comes for dusk on a balmy breeze. Today’s humidity didn’t wring my curls, which are resting in a high bun. Summers in New York are nothing to play with.
I peek at my phone before tucking it into my purse. I texted Preston earlier today, then I took Joseph’s advice and worked up the courage to dial the number I memorized by heart. He hasn’t responded. Not that I’d expect him to, given the day.
Today is his birthday and the anniversary of his mother’s death.
My platform heels balance on wide stone pavers as I make my way over to the fountain with lily pads. The garden looks different, dressed in layers of tulips blooming around manicured hedges. I set the bouquet of white lilies on the bench Preston engraved for his mother and brush pollen from the weathered wood.
“For you,” I say to the silver inscription winking in the streetlight.
It felt right to come here tonight. I wanted to be close to Preston and feel him here with the love he declared for all to see. It’s a place I frequent when our distance weighs heavy. I love him, and I’m struggling with how to live without him.
I reach for the cupcake in a cardboard to-go box. It’s French vanilla with buttercream frosting. “Happy birthday, baby,” I whisper. “Make a wish wherever you are.”
“It already came true,” a deep timbre murmurs behind me.
A soft gasp escapes me, and a quiver surges through my veins, which slice open under his gaze blurred with tears. He’s kept his distance whenever we were in the same city, but he’s here now. My heart skips, pushing one foot in front of the other until I’m running.
