by Amarie Avant
***
A while later, Parker excused herself from the table. Lido ordered some sort of churro thingy. “So, whose house am I staying at tonight?”
“Come again?” Mila’s eyebrow arched. The horror of moving her older sister into her home a few years ago flashed before her eyes.
“Don’t you own a house out here?” Yasmin questioned.
“No.” Lido pointed the cinnamon delight at them. “What’s with these questions? I just asked a question.”
Mila asked. “Where’s your luggage? We assumed you checked into a hotel or were returning to New York after the fitting?”
“My luggage is in the rental car. Damn, Mila. I’m guessing one of your fiancé’s many bedrooms in his two, mind you, Los Angeles homes is out of the question?” Lido’s ever-rolling eyes landed on Yasmin before Mila could offer the home with the crime scene tape. There was a limit to how nice Mila was capable of being. Lido under the same roof as Blake—not gonna happen.
“Humph, don’t look over here. Faaid’s mother moved in after his father died last spring. That was the last guest room.”
Mila sighed deeply. “Lido, the last time you lived with me, it didn’t work out. You couldn’t keep your clothes on in front of my man! I can forgive but forgetting would be a shame on me.”
“Simmer down. I just wanted to gauge how much he cared.” Lido sank back in the chair, dipped the churro into the creamy hot, spicy chocolate and took a bite. “I like this, not the food—actually I do like the food—but I like this new Mila. All that weight on your engagement finger must’ve given you a . . .”
“Given me a what?” Mila’s head tilted somewhat.
The middle sister’s shoulders rose in a careless shrug. She scarfed down the rest of the churro like it was nothing. “I just like you, Mila. You are so sweet.”
“I always hate when you call me that. I am not sweet.”
“And spicy just like this chocolate. You’ve got a little kick to you. Shit, we bump heads like bulls. Or rather, I never made it easy on you, my gorgeous little sister. I’ll just hit up Veronica. And yes, Yasmin, I have a home. I just haven’t been there in a while.”
“Good—” Yasmin smirked.
“Sorry, not good.” Mila cut in. “The moment you bought that pad in Manhattan and moved out of the other house the two of you owned, Veronica has . . . she’s changed.” At least, Mila hoped the girl had grown a backbone.
“So, what? I bought my new place a few months ago because she and I came to an understanding.”
Mila wasn’t stupid enough to encourage a response. Yasmin rarely spent much time with Lido, so she took the bait and asked, “What is this understanding?”
Lido smiled as she often did while saying something outrageously raunchy. “I needed a lil’ bit of space. I moved, so she could understand that, although pussy is sweet, I can always welcome a side of dick too.”
Lido’s vulgar response had Yasmin up in a nanosecond, shrugging into her jacket. “You should’ve been a son. Lunch is over ladies.” Done with her sister, she addressed the baby. “Mila, I need periodic updates on the meeting you and Blake are having this evening with the wedding planner.”
Mila smiled at their waitress across the way and received a nodded gesture that the check would be on its way. Teeth clamped shut, she tried biting her tongue, literally biting it, to keep from speaking. But after so many years of Lido saying how much she loved Veronica and dogging her out in the next breath, Mila couldn’t contain herself.
Thoughtfully, she inquired, “Are children in your plans one day? One child or more? Because I’m confident that you wouldn’t want any man or woman treating your child the way you’ve treated Veronica.”
“What?” Lido’s finger dipped into the spicy chocolate sauce. It looked like she was determined to get the last bits of smooth goodness. “What sorta question is that? I’m 35, Mila. I have too much going on for me than to fuck it over with some snotty nose, shitty little kids.”
“Wow, one phrase and an arsenal of cuss words.” Mila scoffed.
She was silent for a second. Although Lido hadn’t flipped out since her heat stroke, Mila wasn’t entirely too sure about her sister’s frame of mind. For the most part, Lido had been very helpful, which technically was saying a lot. By Lido’s own personal standards, she was doing well. But Mila wasn’t in the position to hope for the best. After all, the most important day of her life was well on its way.
Blake
He rubbed his powerful jaw while standing before the gigantic monitor. Then Donald was at his side, followed by more of his employees.
“You’re trending,” someone said.
“And our site just monopolized the top spot!” Another person jumped up.
“Oh, I’m going to post.” Zach plunked down into his thick-leather chair and turned toward his monitors. “Don’t have the slightest idea where you should marry, but you should have In-N-Out Burger cater your wedding, I’ve always wanted to attend a wedding where a great cheeseburger was on the menu.”
Blake pulled out his cell phone and headed for his office. He speed-dialed Parker. She answered mid-first ring.
One for business, Parker commenced the conversation. “Mila agreed with me, so I cannot be fired.”
His mouth barely moved. “That is where you’re fucking wrong, Parker, you can be fired.”
“I suppose. Well, this isn’t the first time you’ve fired me.” She sighed. “This time, might I suggest you take a timeout first? Get ready for your meeting with the new wedding consultant, and then you can fire me later—if you feel that’s necessary.”
He glanced at his watch. Parker was correct. It was time for him to leave for the day. “Wait, how do you know about this meeting?”
“I just had lunch with Mila. I hear the dress is gorgeous by the way. Now, don’t be late or you’ll be in even more trouble than I am now.” Parker hung up.
Blake shook his head. His public relations representative was a grab the bull by the horns, meat eating, bulldog. The media was sharks, so she had to be too.
***
Blake stood at the curb of the Delacroix Hotel. It had one of the poshest lounges in all of Beverly Hills. He noticed one of his cars. Its windows were tinted. He nodded to the driver, who was about to get out of the car. He then opened the back door to see Mila fiddling with her cell phone.
“Just a second,” she murmured, so engrossed with whatever she was viewing that she had yet to notice him.
Blake cleared his throat.
“Oh, Blake, sorry, baby.” Mila grinned brightly. She took his hand and got out of the car. Her arms went around his and, even in high heels, she had to lift up somewhat on her tippy toes. Mila’s mouth locked onto Blake’s in a succulent kiss.
“Wow, that was the kind of kiss that knocks people off their feet. Do I perceive a threat?” With a smile, Blake nudged his chin to her phone, as he placed an arm around her. Mila bumped her hip against his.
“No, I just glanced over about a gazillion places to marry. Peckforton Castle in Cheshire, England, the Meadowood Napa Valley Resort, there was this quaint B&B—” She stopped walking. “Not flashy, but dreamy for our small wedding.”
“I agreed to a small guest list, Mila. I’m glad you’re having fun.”
She started walking again. “We better hurry. I was told that the wedding planner has Beyoncé and Jay-Z's top-secret wedding under his belt. But you didn’t hear that from me.” She winked.
His fingers claimed the small of Mila’s back, and he pulled her into another kiss. This time his teeth grazed along her bottom lip, sending prickles of desire through her body.
“Mmmm.” She sighed. “Now, that’s a kiss that makes me forget. Like forget exactly what we are doing?”
“Let me try again, I was going for you forgetting everything but my name,” he said, pulling her into his arms for another round. Their mouths were soft, pressing against each other. His tongue pushed into her mouth like he was tasting the h
ollow between her thighs. Her tongue wrapped around his like she was licking the thickness of his shaft.
When Blake let go, he continued to hold the small of her back to steady her from falling. This time, a shallow breath shook through her body. Mila blinked and moaned. “Damn, I forgot my ABCs . . .”
“Good. But let me remind you that I don’t hurry for anyone,” he said. “Well, that is until I met you.”
The truth brought a bubble of laughter up Mila’s throat. “I love you,” she said. Though these were the best words that she’d said so many times before, Mila felt herself falling for Blake all over again.
“I like that,” Blake said, pressing a thumb over the smile crease at the side of her mouth. “I don’t want you smiling harder for anyone or anything but me.”
They headed into the hotel. The main lobby was decked out in gold marble with orchids woven around each column. The lounge was just as grand. A man in a tuxedo crooned in French at a baby grand piano. A hostess escorted them to one of the grottos, a secluded, intimate area, where the wedding planner, Thao, sat. He donned a royal-blue suit. Mossy green and tan laced embellishments were the finishing touches, offering a renaissance flair. With a rigid spine, Thao appeared to be every bit of a man who planned weddings at the ten million dollars plus mark. He placed a leather folder on the table and stood. Eyeing Mila like a rare jewel, Thao kissed her hand and introduced himself.
He then gave Blake’s hand a hearty shake.
“I’ve just ordered their best wine,” Thao said, sinking back into his chair as the server came by.
“Fine with me,” Mila smiled, sitting next to him. “I’m ready to begin.”
“Your best bourbon,” Blake addressed the server and then sat next to Mila and across from Thao.
“I noticed that you two have some sort of contest going?” Thao pushed a few strands of his jet-black hair behind his ear, the only sign that he wasn’t too keen on the idea.
“Yes,” Mila spoke up. “I cannot believe how many suggestions we have gotten as far as weddings go.”
Not satisfied with her response, Thao began again. “I must say that this will be my first instance where—”
Mila waved a hand. “Those are just suggestions, Thao. It garners publicity and drives free advertisement to Blake. Although I do appreciate some of the responses, it is overwhelming. Besides, the social media aspect is just merely a way for me to ensure that Blake can’t chicken out.”
Blake, who hadn’t paid much attention so far, turned to his fiancée. “Mila—”
“I’m joking, baby.” Mila squeezed his thigh. “It’s actually me,” she said wriggling her fingers. “I cannot have a long engagement. The sooner you can plan our wedding, the happier I will be. I promise not to be a runaway bride, it’s just getting from A-to-B which scares me. Valentine’s Day or thereabouts works for me.”
Thao nodded slowly. “I can offer suggestions based on what I know about the two of you—what I see. It’s simply the only way I can work.”
“Yes.”
Blake spoke up. “Just as long as you make it quick. So, I can bed my wife.”
Thao laughed. He was visibly relieved. “Thank goodness. I will be candid—I am very candid. I wasn’t going to continue the conversation if this seemed like a social ploy. Now, I’ve seen the outlines from Madame Renee for your wedding dress, Mila. The instant I hear that the great Renee is involved in a wedding, I’m more inclined to agree. I do not negotiate. My services include a retainer fee of four hundred thousand and then ten percent of the cost of every service. But I have not chosen you yet.”
Mila was in shock.
Blake knew the drill; Diane’s wedding planner had been brutal. The expensive ones never sugarcoated anything, and they suggested the costliest item for everything. He nodded. “Continue.”
“Flower choice?”
“Um,” Mila started. Her widened eyes were still in shock about the price.
Blake spoke again. “She loves lilies.”
“A very in demand flower in the summer. But it’s winter now . . . so . . .”
Blake knew that automatically upped the price tag.
“Destination?” Thao asked.
“That works,” Blake said.
Thao smiled. A destination wedding brought with it even more grand ideas. He patted Mila’s shoulder. “Your skin tone would be gorgeous with olive green accents—I’m thinking background, of course.”
“That’s one of my favorite colors,” she replied.
Thao continued with his questioning, and then he opened an iPad to show them places where Pierce Brosnan and Sir Paul McCartney had gotten married, and of course, where David married Victoria Beckham.
“I love it!” Mila said. “Blake, what do you think?”
“Your call.” He squeezed her thigh.
“With the time constraints,” Thao began, “I will need to begin soon.”
Mila bit her lip for a second. Then she asked, “Can you give me a second? I have to call my sisters.”
MILA
While Mila stood in the lobby, which had somehow just become very loud, she clicked on a group text with her sisters about the venue they were considering.
YASMIN: A Castle in Ireland?? I love it.
LIDO: NO! HELL NO!
YASMIN: WHY???
Mila started to navigate her phone for Lido’s contact when she got a call from Yasmin.
“That bitch is being a hater,” were the first words from her oldest sister’s mouth.
The phone buzzed. It was Lido.
“Hold on, Yas, that’s Lido—”
“Well, I want to speak to her too.”
“Then hold on. Damn, I’m going to conference her in.”
It took a few minutes to figure out the logistics of a conference call, but soon, all the sisters were on the line.
“You can’t marry him in Europe. Europe is out,” Lido said.
“And why is an entire continent out?” Yasmin was instantly on the defensive.
“Because he married Diane in England. Ireland—England! Too close.”
“All of Europe is out?” Yasmin snapped.
“Wait, Yas. She’s right, now I don’t want to get married there,” Mila huffed. “Before Blake and I met with Thao, I was tagged in a comment with this winery in Napa Valley. It’s owned by three black sisters, and the photos were—”
“Are they new?” Lido asked.
“Yes, I commented and congratulated them on their new winery. I—”
“Then you don’t want a bunch of newbies screwing up stuff,” Lido said.
Yasmin scoffed. “Aren’t you so pessimistic. I would mention how somebody doesn’t like supporting our people, but actually, I agree. Lido might be right.”
“Oh, is that a first.” Lido laughed.
“Hello, this is for me.” Mila cut in. “I see what you’re saying but let me get into the convo. And I still would like to support them in the future, so . . .”
Lido commandeered the conversation. “We can have the bachelorette party there. Bam! See, I can represent for the melanin chicks when I wanna!” She sounded excited. “I’ll be in charge of it. I am the maid of honor, Yas.”
“Alright, I like that,” Mila said, almost laughing at her response.
“Let me know if you need help.” Yasmin spoke up. The inference in her tone was thick even through the phone.
“Bye, ladies,” Mila hung up before either of her sisters could throw another harsh comment to each other.
She headed back into the lounge. Another text message came through.
YASMIN: It doesn’t matter where you get married, Mila. YOU WILL BE THE STAR.
A smile started at the corners of her lips. She then continued past the bar to the alcove where the men were chatting aimlessly. “I changed my mind about Ireland.”
“Alright, baby,” Blake said. He caressed her cheek and planted his lips against hers for a soft, delicate kiss.
“Name a place that feels most
comfortable to you two,” Thao asked. “Tell me, are we still talking destination? Where did you first vacation?”
Mila tried to focus. She continued to tell herself that this marriage had nothing to do with Blake’s previous marriage. This one, unlike the last, would last. “You made me take some sick time from work,” she said mischievously.
“We went to Tokyo.”
Thao played with the silk lapel of his suit while in thought.
“We’ve had some good times there.” Blake softly growled in Mila’s ear. They were acting like lovebirds. “Mila chased me all the way to Asia when we broke up for a time.”
“Oh, so you’re going to forget that you tried to catch up with me in Ethiopia?” She laughed.
“I’m thinking of the oriental lily,” Thao said. “Mila, give me a couple of days, and I will have the perfect idea.”
About twenty minutes later, they were shaking hands with Thao. Blake and Mila cozied up in their seats after Thao departed. Blake had ordered the best champagne the lounge had.
“Oh, so we’re celebrating now, Blake?” Mila cocked an eyebrow. The music was low, and the dimly lit room had an enchanting aura about it. Mila freely caressed a hand along his chest.
“Every day is a celebration when I’m with you.”
She scoffed but couldn’t help the giddiness creeping into her cheeks. Blake slid his hand between her thighs.
“This is not a sex club,” Mila warned.
“Me screwing you as they watch.” Blake’s baritone voice was laced with desire, though his hand had moved, resting at mid-thigh. Mila had stopped breathing. Her lips were on his mouth. She was subconsciously begging him to work his way higher.
Emerald eyes twinkling, he stopped. “Still not a finger bang boy.” He laughed at her and removed his hand.
She did the only thing she could do in this situation. First, she took in a hitch of much-needed oxygen. Then she slapped Blake’s arm.
The waiter was at the table, holding out a bottle when Mila’s cell phone vibrated. As Blake gave the go-ahead, she pulled out her phone and saw a text from Veronica.
