“Just go in there, ask for your slice of crow pie, and put everything behind you,” she instructed herself. However, she made no move toward the door.
Sighing, she lowered her head against the steering wheel and waded through a flood of emotions. This was one of the hardest things she’d ever had to do. Minutes passed before she finally lifted her head, wiped her eyes dry, and stepped out of the car.
She strolled through the doors, flashing a bright smile to the staff as she made her way toward Solomon’s office. But Marcel crossed her path first.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, stealing a hug and a quick kiss.
“I, uh, swung by to see Sol. Is he in?”
Marcel’s handsome face lit up. “Ah, finally. I’m glad to see one of you came to your senses.”
A rush of embarrassment heated her face, and she didn’t quite know what to say.
“Well, he should be in his office. If you want, I can walk down there with you.”
“No, no. That’s not necessary.” She shrugged when Marcel frowned. “This is sort of a…private matter. I’d rather not beg for forgiveness in front of an audience.”
Marcel didn’t appear to be offended. Instead, he gave her an encouraging wink. “I’m sure everything is going to be fine.”
I hope so. She said her goodbyes to Marcel, and promised to see him and Diana later that evening for dinner. However, when she continued her journey toward Solomon’s office, she felt like a prisoner taking that final walk toward her execution.
She spotted Chelsea behind her desk and flashed her a quick smile. Since the secretary was on the phone, Ophelia whispered, “Is he in?” while stealthily moving toward Solomon’s closed door.
Chelsea quickly hung up the phone and jumped to her feet. “Ms. Missler, I’m sorry, but Mr. Bassett isn’t in his office.”
Ophelia blinked, taken aback by the woman’s forceful tone. “Well, do you mind if I go in and wait for him?”
“He’s gone for the day. He left a few minutes ago. I’ll make sure to tell him that you stopped by,” Chelsea said, with no trace of friendliness in her expression.
A strange tension lapsed between the two women before Ophelia forced herself to nod. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”
“No problem.” A slow smile finally stretched across the secretary’s face.
Hackles high, Ophelia turned and strolled away. She kept her chin up and her plastic smile in place, but humiliation settled and soured in her stomach.
Once she pushed through the building’s glass door, she dropped her farcical mask and rushed to her car. She didn’t believe Chelsea. Solomon was there, and her guess was that he’d given strict instructions to get rid of her if she ever showed up. Of course, she had no proof of that. It was just an instinct she couldn’t shake.
Sliding in behind the steering wheel, she quickly started the car. But before she pulled out of her parking spot, she caught a glimpse of one of Solomon’s cars, a silver Porsche, parked in his reserved parking space.
The hole in Ophelia’s heart widened, and she feared the damage would never be repaired.
* * *
Solomon stood before his office window, staring down at Ophelia’s pecan-colored Jaguar. He’d done the right thing, he told himself. Sure, he could’ve seen her, buried the hatchet, gone back to being best friends. All of that would mean he’d have to stand on the sidelines and watch her marry Jonas, bear his children, and watch them live happily ever after.
Solomon couldn’t do that—he wouldn’t do that.
The only way to end the emotional roller coaster was to sever ties. In his heart, he knew he would always love Ophelia. But it was way past time to let go.
After he watched the Jag pull out of the parking lot and merge into traffic, he turned from the window and left the office. He found Marcel at Zandra’s cubicle. Both were searching madly for something on her desk.
“You have a minute?” Solomon asked.
“Sure.” Marcel sighed, seeming relieved for the interruption.
Zandra nervously braided her hands together. “I’ll keep looking for those budget reports, Mr. Taylor. I know they’re around here—somewhere.”
Marcel drew a weary breath and gestured for Solomon toward his office. Once the men entered and closed the door, Marcel nearly collapsed against it.
“I like Zandra, but she has to go,” he grumbled.
“Then fire her.”
“I’d love to, but she’s a good friend of Diana’s grandmother. Every time I even hint that things aren’t working out, I’m bombarded with pleas to give the woman another chance. But I don’t know how much more I can take.”
Solomon shared a sympathetic smile.
“So, what’s up, man?” Marcel asked, heading toward his in-office bar. “Can I get you a drink?”
“Nah. I’ll pass.” Solomon waved off the offer.
“I saw Ophelia a while ago,” Marcel said, dropping ice into his glass. “Did you two finally kiss and make up?”
Solomon winced against the pinch in his chest. “Look, I just came by to tell you I made my decision. I’m moving to our New York offices.”
Marcel frowned and lowered the rum bottle. After a brief silence, he asked, “When?”
“I’m leaning toward next month.”
“That soon?”
Solomon shrugged. “What can I say? I need a change of scenery.”
His buddy’s gaze narrowed with suspicion. “You didn’t talk to her, did you?”
“What would be the point?” he asked simply. “I knew this day would come, and I thought I’d be able to handle it. Turns out—I can’t. Now, the only way I’m going to get over her is just simply not to be around.” Solomon turned and headed toward the door.
“Don’t go, Sol. Come to dinner tonight.”
“Give my best to Diana.” He faced Marcel and winked. “At least one of us got it right.” He turned back toward the door.
“You’re making a mistake,” Marcel said.
Solomon stopped with his hand on the doorknob. “No. My mistake was not loving her when I had the chance. I didn’t take the risk, and I lost her anyway.” He chuckled, but it held a note of misery. “That’s what you call irony.”
Chapter 22
After an evening of dance lessons, Jonas came home to a quiet and distant fiancée. No amount of coaxing would loosen her lips about what was wrong. Yet, he had his suspicions, ones that deepened with each tick of the clock.
Anger and distrust crept up the base of his spine, and before he knew it, they moved around each other in a strange, muted dance on eggshells. By the time they were on the road toward the Taylors, he simply couldn’t take it anymore.
“Did you see Solomon today?” he asked, glancing over at her in the passenger seat.
Ophelia rolled her eyes. “Don’t start that again.”
His grip tightened on the steering wheel while his irritation escalated. Suddenly it was as if Solomon was in the car, sitting between them. Jonas’s dreams of the future inched out of his reach.
“No,” she whispered and turned her gaze to view the scenery outside her window. “I didn’t see him.”
Briefly, Jonas closed his eyes and exhaled in relief.
“But it wasn’t from lack of trying,” she added, her attention still focused elsewhere.
“What is that supposed to mean?” He glanced at her again.
Ophelia drew a deep breath and then turned to meet his steady gaze. “It means I miss my best friend. It means I went to see Solomon, but he refused to talk to me. I hurt him…and it’s killing me.” Her voice quivered as her eyes glossed with instant tears. “I’m guessing that you’re pretty happy about the whole thing.”
The misery he read in the depths of her eyes crushed any feelings of victory. It was the lowest he’d ever felt. Causing her this type of pain was never his intention. His gaze lowered, and he noticed how she absently fumbled with her engagement ring.
“You’re right. I shouldn
’t have given you that ultimatum.”
Ophelia shook her head. Her tears trickled down her face. “No…you shouldn’t have,” she said softly. “But I’d made that decision before then.”
Jonas frowned. “What do you mean?”
The quivering lips intensified. “That night you stormed out…”
Once again, he closed his eyes, still feeling like the scum of the earth. Yet, he was stuck between a rock and a hard place. He didn’t like or trust Solomon, but if he didn’t fix this situation, he was going to be blamed for this for the rest of their lives…if he managed to get her down the aisle.
“I’ll talk to him,” Jonas offered, his gaze still watching her play with her ring.
“I can’t expect you to fix my mess,” she said. “I did this. I have to handle it—if he’ll let me.”
“Still, I—”
“We’d better hurry.” Ophelia sniffed and held up her head. “We don’t want to be late.”
The discussion was officially closed. However, Jonas had already made up his mind. He didn’t like it, but it appeared that Solomon was vital to the success of his pending marriage.
Damn it.
* * *
“What do you mean, Solomon is moving to New York?” Diana asked as she slid on her last earring. “Are you joking?”
“I wish I was.” Marcel leaned back against the bedroom wall, and then smiled when his wife stood from her vanity chair. He marveled at her wholesome beauty while she glided toward him in a royal blue dress that complemented her cute, curvy figure.
“So what are we going to do?” she asked, leaning up on her toes.
Marcel was only too happy to heed to her unspoken request for a kiss. Loving the feel of her soft lips, he pulled her pliant body against him and was having thoughts of stripping her out of her clothes.
Diana moaned and slid her arms around his neck. However, she was the only one with a thread of willpower to break their kiss and thus send them both crashing back to earth. “You didn’t answer my question,” she whispered softly against his lips.
Frowning, he took a moment to recall what they were talking about. “Oh, yeah. Solomon.” He maintained his hold on her and shrugged. “I’m not sure there’s much we can do. Jonas and Ophelia are going to be living permanently in Atlanta, and Solomon doesn’t want to be around. Pure and simple.”
“But he loves her. He can’t just give up like that.”
“Honey, I know. I tried to talk to him this afternoon after Ophelia came by the office.”
“So they’re talking again?” Diana’s face lit up. “That’s great.”
“It would’ve been if he’d spoken to her.” Marcel shook his head. “This is not going to be an easy fix. Solomon seems determined to walk away.” He sighed. “I never thought I’d see this day, but I think it’s really over between Solomon and Ophelia.”
* * *
Diana’s grandmother, Louisa Mae, answered the door when Ophelia and Jonas arrived at the Taylor estate. Opening it, she smiled warmly and gestured for Jonas and Ophelia to enter.
“You must be Diana’s mother,” Jonas teased, pressing a kiss against the older woman’s hand.
“Oh, my.” Louisa fluttered her free hand against her heart. “Aren’t you a handsome charmer?” She cut her gaze to Ophelia. “Better keep an eye on this one. I’m in the market.”
The couple laughed as Louisa closed the door behind them.
“My, my, my,” Louisa cooed, turning her attention back to them. “You two make such a beautiful couple. Of course, back in the day, either one of my husbands and I would’ve given you a run for your money. That’s because I look good on anyone’s arm.” She winked.
Ophelia laughed and instantly fell in love with the older woman.
“Wow.” Louisa grabbed Ophelia’s hands and ogled the large blue diamond on her hand. “Now, that’s a ring.”
“Well, if it isn’t the future Mr. and Mrs. Hinton,” Marcel commented as he and his wife strolled into the foyer.
“And if it isn’t the former Casanova Brown,” Ophelia teased.
“Former being the key word,” Diana joked, squeezing her husband’s waist.
Ophelia greeted Diana with a quick peck on the cheek, and then accepted Marcel’s open-arm invitation for a hug. Standing in the folds of his familiar embrace, Ophelia longed to stay, lean on him as she’d done in the past, and seek his advice on how to mend the growing divide between her and Solomon.
Hearing Jonas’s small cough, Ophelia eased out of her friend’s arms and flashed everyone a stiff smile. The awkward moment passed quickly, and the group of five spilled into the grand living room. Drinks were poured all around, and small talk morphed into genuine conversation.
“So which one of you are experiencing wedding jitters?” Diana asked, after receiving yet another kiss from her doting husband. “I know I was a nervous wreck at ours.”
“Don’t tell me you were having second thoughts?” Marcel said with an instant frown.
Diana laughed. “Not about marrying you, but whether some scorned woman was going to stand up in the middle of the ceremony during that ‘speak now or forever hold your peace’ line.”
Ophelia laughed, and then tried to look contrite when Marcel turned a hurtful expression toward her. “C’mon, Marcel. We didn’t call you Casanova Brown for nothing.”
“Well,” he said, once again gathering his wife close, “I’m a changed man now. I’ve fallen for the perfect woman.”
Diana giggled and submitted to another smothering kiss.
Sparks of jealousy flared within Ophelia as she watched the loving couple. At the feel of Jonas’s arm drifting around her waist, she fought the sudden urge to pull away. And at the feel of his soft lips against hers, she wished she had.
When it ended, she had her ready-made smile in place. But glancing away, she caught Louisa’s curious gaze.
“So,” Louisa said, smiling broadly, “you two known each other long?”
“Uh, no, ma’am. We—”
“Oh, honey, please. All my friends call me Lou.” She winked.
“All right, Lou,” Ophelia amended, and reached for her fiancé’s hand. “Jonas and I have known each other for nearly eight months.”
“Ooh, must have been one of those love-at-first-sight sort of things,” Lou said with twinkling eyes.
“I know it was for me,” Jonas said, landing another kiss against Ophelia’s cheek.
Ophelia didn’t answer.
Diana elbowed her husband. “Well, it took a while before lover boy here even noticed I was alive.”
“That’s not true,” Marcel chimed in. “I noticed you. It’s just that…you know, I…hell, who am I kidding? I was just an idiot. But luckily I came around.”
“That’s not so unusual,” Louisa said. “Take me and my first husband, Robert. I was a dancer, and he was this magnificent horn player. Ooh, chile, he blew me away the first night I laid eyes on him. He was tall, dark, and, man, could he fill out a suit. But honey, I damn near had to club him over the head to get him to drop to one knee.”
The men chuckled while Diana rolled her eyes.
“My point is,” Lou said with a cocky grin, “that it’s so easy to overlook something that’s staring you right in the face.”
Lou’s and Ophelia’s gazes met again.
“But I see you two are lucky.”
Something about the woman’s stare made Ophelia feel as if she was naked. And that, in turn, made her feel like a fraud.
“I love Jonas,” she said defensively, as her grip on his hand tightened. “We’re going to be very happy together.”
Jonas puffed out his chest. “Sounds good to me.”
Ophelia leaned in and extracted her own kiss from her willing fiancé. Desperately, she willed the sparks to come and the magic to flourish. It never happened, and she cursed her need for those stupid childhood fantasies.
* * *
Hours later, Jonas and Ophelia returned home. Jonas had to
admit that he liked Marcel and Diana. He found their marriage to be an inspiration—not to mention, he loved the effect it was having on Ophelia.
Finally, they were back on track.
“I’m exhausted.” Ophelia sighed, delivering a quick peck to his cheek. “I’m going to head off to bed.”
Jonas quickly looped his arm around her and pulled her back. He nuzzled another kiss against the curve of her neck. “How about I keep you company tonight?”
The Beautiful Ones (Arabesque) Page 14
