Page 62 of Tender Offer
I want you back.
We ended dinner soon after his offer, and I stayed up half the night running through a million questions.
Where would we be if we’d let time run out?
Would we have walked away regardless, or would we have held on until distance and life forced us apart?
“You are too beautiful and bright to be this damn dumb. Nope”—he snaps his fingers—“don’t turn your lips up. For the past year, all I’ve heard is you whine and complain about ain’t-shit men. You cut yourself off from dating. Now here comes Prince Charming, doing everything to show you the world, and you’re calling me up to overanalyze. Get on that magic carpet and fly to your happily ever after!”
If I wasn’t afraid of Kojo finding a way to teleport through the phone to pluck me in my forehead, I’d joke about him using Disney characters to read me to filth. He rarely yells or glowers the way he is now.
Our volume drops to a suffocating hush. He raises his brow, catching a golden ray of light over his hazelnut skin.
I’m in denial. He knows it, and so do I.
Preston never needed a tender offer to pursue me. He’s been doing it since the morning he stood in front of my hotel room door. The three-hour ride to the airport. Wanting me here for three months, which I now realize is how long we would’ve had left in Paris if things hadn’t gone to Hell. The candlelight dinner in his closet. The damn penthouse on the same floor.
“That man loves you, Regine,” Kojo says, snatching me out of my thoughts. “The only thing you need to decide is if you lovehim enough to see where this goes. Second chances don’t come around often. If you want him, go get him.”
“When did you become a love doctor, Mr. Noncommitment?”
He scoffs. “Since the two women in my life want to act foolish about what’s staring them in the face. Emma is no better with that man living in her house. All this denial is a promise for early wrinkles.” He adjusts his robe and crosses himself.
Guilt prickles my skin in a rash of shame. Hearing Emma’s name churns my stomach for the games I played with her friend. I hate mean girls, and I became the very thing I despised.
“I was thinking about reaching out to her when I’m in LA next month, to apologize.” My photo shoot styling gig might be the perfect time to clear the air.
“Let it be for now,” Kojo says in a tone that lets me know not to question him. His eyes narrow, but they lack contempt. “I already got chewed out. I think it’s best for time to do its thing. You two will have to interact at some point. There’s no need to force anything now.”
“Okay.”
“You just focus on Preston,” he quips with a wink. “The one thing you can control is whether or not you talk yourself out of another chance with that fine man. Get out of your head and let him catch you. Acting like you won’t like it.Tuh!Now get off my phone. I have a wide receiver in my bed, and I need to get into his end zone.”
Kojo out sticks his tongue and ends the call. Guess we’re done.
The only thing that’s changed between Preston and me are the cards—now they’re laid out on the table. I have the power to tell him to stop, and to say no.
Fifteen years was enough time to replay the death of our relationship. The places that needed fortifying. The truths we should’ve revealed.
Putting the past to rest isn’t what scares me; it’s the resurrection of what could be.
But how does he make you feel?
Like we might get it right this time.
Chapter 33
Madison
Fifteen Years Ago
“Where are we going?”
“Can you walk in those?” Preston’s eyes drift to my platform loafers as they shuffle to keep up with his stride. “Want me to carry you?”
“Don’t be silly,” I huff, narrowly missing a crack in the pavement. “Where are we going?”
He brings our interlaced fingers to his lips. “Patience, Puff. We’re almost there.”
