Page 117 of Crossing the Brooklyn Briggs
Peace settles in my heart because—yet again—he’s right. Maybe this position won’t be the one for me, but that shouldn’t stop me from trying. I will be guaranteeing failure if I don’t show up.
“How did I get so lucky to have you in my life?” I ask, wishing he were here to hold me in his strong arms and shut out the world for a while.
Jordan chuckles. “You can thank your brother and his refusal to listen when I clearly shouted, ‘I’ve got it!’.”
I laugh.
We’re both quiet for a moment, and I wouldn’t be surprised if Jordan was thinking the same thing as me. “Do you think Houston will be okay?” I ask.
“We’ll find out in about an hour. I’m planning to catch him before he heads to practice. And Brooklyn?”
I love when he uses my real name. It happens so rarely that I know there’s always going to be something important with it. “Yeah?”
“Even if I show up at your house later with a black eye courtesy of your brother, it’s not going to change anything. I love you regardless of his opinion of me. Hopefully he doesn’t make me choose, but if he does, I’ll choose you.”
“If he makes you choose, he’s going to have to deal with me,” I reply. “I can come at him with a pillow if I need to.”
The laughter that bursts out of him feels like it builds up my already bountiful hope. Neither of us is going to lose Houston today. We can’t. We’ll both do everything we can to help my brother accept this new reality.
“You two and your pillow fights,” Jordan mutters. “I am so glad I never got involved in those because you are brutal.”
“I had to stay ahead somehow.”
“I’ll keep you posted, okay? Promise me you’ll do the same. I’ll have my phone on full volume all day, waiting for your call.”
If only he could come with me and hold my hand the whole time so I don’t panic. Still, knowing he’s just a phone call away will help. “I love you.”
“I love you more. You’re going to do great, Queens.”
And because it’s Jordan who says that, I believe him.
Chapter Forty-Two
Jordan
I don’t know if I’veever been more nervous in my life, and that includes the day I proposed to Natalie, not knowing if she would say yes because we never talked about it. (That probably should have been a sign that we weren’t meant to be, but I digress.) Standing on Houston’s porch is a million times worse than that.
I know I’m being dramatic, but this conversation could end our friendship. He won’t be rid of me, even if he wants to be, but I really don’t want Houston to go from a friend who’s practically a brother to a brother who’s barely a friend. It’s not like I set out to cause problems when I literally dropped into Brooklyn’s life.
“You’re delaying the inevitable,” I tell myself, raising my hand to knock.
Before my knuckles make contact, I turn around and walk back down the porch steps.
My phone pings with a text before I reach my truck.
Queens: Got my interview outfit all ready to go.
A picture quickly follows, one she took in her bathroom mirror. She’s wearing a bright yellow blouse and navy slacks that hug her curves in a way that makes me tempted to drive over there and tell her how dang good she looks. It’s not just the clothes. She looksconfident, like nothing could go wrong with this interview.
I type out a text with shaking fingers.
Me: You are the most beautiful, fierce, intelligent woman I’ve ever known. Knock ’em dread.
I hit send right before I notice the typo on that last word, and I bust up laughing, my tension dissipating with each breath.
Me: Looks like your curse is rubbing off on me, Queens.
Queens: *kissy face*
