This I Promise You

by Smith, Maureen

  Jagger scowled as everyone cracked up laughing.

  As Michael reclaimed his seat and picked up his drink, Quentin nodded to him. “Everything all right in Chicago?”

  “Yeah. He just wanted to finalize some details for that fundraiser dinner we’re hosting on Friday.”

  “The one President Obama’s speaking at?”

  Michael nodded, sipping his beer.

  “You’re going, right?”

  Michael grinned. “I don’t have much of a choice. My publicist wants the photo op with the president, and Reese wants to spend the weekend in Chicago shopping and sightseeing.”

  Jagger laughed, shaking his head. “See, that’s what happens when you get domesticated. Your wife starts running your life.”

  “Aw, man, shut up,” Michael and Quentin retorted good-naturedly.

  As Manning and Marcus sauntered over, Jagger intoned loudly, “And speaking of whipped husbands…”

  “What?” Manning challenged, lifting his brows. “You over here talking shit?”

  “Major shit,” Michael confirmed, slinging an arm around Jagger’s shoulder. “But that’s all right. We all know he’s just mad ’cause he couldn’t get no love from the waitress.”

  “Don’t be too sure about that.” When Jagger hitched his chin toward the entrance to the suite, everyone looked over to see the young waitress and three others huddled around giggling and whispering to one another as they eyed the roomful of good-looking men.

  As everyone watched, their waitress glanced in Jagger’s direction, bit her lip and smiled coyly.

  A slow, satisfied grin curved Jagger’s mouth. “What were you saying, Mike?”

  Michael gave him a look of amused disgust. “Don’t you think she’s kinda young for you?”

  Quentin snorted. “When has that ever stopped him?”

  “Shh. Don’t hate. Appreciate.” Jagger smoothly unfolded his tall body from the chair, hazel eyes glinting wickedly. “Pardon me, fellas.”

  He sauntered off to work his charm on the pretty waitress, leaving the others to grin and shake their heads at one another.

  They were soon joined by Manning’s brothers Montana, Magnum and Maddox. There were five of them total, including Mason. Stan was their father while Michael and Marcus belonged to Sterling. Quentin had grown up with the Wolf boys and loved them all like the brothers he’d never had.

  During halftime, they sat around munching on hot wings and overstuffed po’boys while shooting the breeze and laughing at crowd shots flashing across the Jumbotron screen. The humorous images were followed by a series of advertisements from corporate sponsors.

  Quentin had just taken a sip of his beer when a new image appeared on the screen with the message: The Law Firm of Harrington LLP, Proud Supporters of the Atlanta Falcons Since 1975.

  Quentin went rigid in his seat as he stared at the ad for his estranged family’s law firm. He’d seen it before, but today, for the first time, it hit him like a punch to his gut. Because the Harringtons were no longer an abstract concept, distant relatives who had no connection to him whatsoever. His uncle’s surprise visit had turned the Harringtons into a reality—a reality that threatened to upset the harmonious balance of Quentin’s life and throw his world into upheaval. His and his mother’s.

  When the sound of Michael’s voice broke into his thoughts, he glanced around to find everyone staring at him.

  “You all right?” Michael asked curiously.

  “Yeah.” Quentin took another swig of his drink and swallowed hard. The beer tasted sour in his mouth. “What were you saying?”

  “Just checking to make sure you’re available for the holiday taping on the twentieth.”

  “Of course,” Quentin said. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

  Every year, members of the Wolf Pack and Morehouse Nine joined Michael on the set of his Emmy-winning cooking show, Howlin’ Good. They always had a rollicking good time, and those episodes drew the highest ratings for the already popular show.

  As halftime ended, Jagger, Percy and Shokare returned to the suite to watch the second half of the game. Within minutes, everyone was on their feet whooping and cheering as Mason broke three tackles and sprinted into the end zone for a touchdown. The crowd erupted into thunderous howls punctuated by electrifying chants of “Wolf…Wolf…Wolf…Wolf!” that rocked the entire stadium.

  A triumphant Mason flexed his biceps and exchanged macho chest bumps with his teammates while his family and friends howled and high fived one another. Their boisterous celebration was captured on the Jumbotron. Grinning broadly, Mason turned to face their skybox so he could salute them. All seventeen men stood at attention and saluted him back, sending another wave of cheers through the crowd.

  After the extra point was kicked, Stan pointed to the scoreboard showing the two teams tied at twenty-eight. “Gentlemen,” the proud papa announced, “we got ourselves a ballgame!”

  Everyone roared with approval.

  Grinning from ear to ear, Quentin settled in to enjoy the rest of the game, determined not to spend another minute thinking about the trouble brewing on his horizon.

  8

  The Falcons edged out a win, beating the Saints by a field goal in the final seconds of the game.

  Following the victory, some of the fellas returned home with Stan to continue the celebration with their wives.

  Lexi and Reese were sitting on the sofa holding their sons when the men arrived, swaggering through the door like conquerors returning from the battlefield.

  Stan strode over to Prissy, swept her into his arms and kissed her soundly on the mouth. Sterling twirled Asha around and gallantly dipped her backward, then leaned over her to steal a kiss that had everyone clapping and cheering. Everyone but Celeste, who sat there with a frozen smile on her face.

  As Manning started toward Taylor, he was intercepted by their daughter, who darted into the room crying out, “Daddy! You’re back!”

  “Hey, baby girl.” Manning swooped her up and tossed her in the air. As she squealed in delight, he caught her and nuzzled his face into her neck, making her giggle hysterically. When he told her, “Give me some sugar,” Malia puckered right up and kissed him with a noisy, smacking sound that had both of them laughing.

  At the same time, Savvy wiggled down from Celeste’s lap and toddled toward Michael, her arms outstretched as she cooed excitedly, “Hi, Daddeee!”

  Grinning broadly, Michael swept her up into his arms and started tickling her as Matthew, Malcolm, Micah and Max stampeded through the door and raced to their respective fathers, throwing their arms around their waists.

  If the remaining little ones could have run to their daddies, they would have.

  “Hey, there,” Lexi said, lifting her face as Quentin bent down to kiss her and stroke her hair. She smiled into his eyes. “Guess you were right about the Dirty Birds coming back.”

  “Never doubted them for a second.” He winked, then plopped down beside her and scooped their son off her lap, lifting him over his head to make the baby squeal with pleasure. When Michael sat on the other side of Reese, she and Lexi laughed and scooted closer together to make more room for their brawny husbands.

  Prissy returned from the kitchen carrying several dessert plates. “We saved some pie for you, fellas. And there’s leftovers too, in case you didn’t fill up on that stadium food.” She looked toward the fireplace, where Manning and Taylor stood kissing and nuzzling and touching each other’s faces. “Where are your brothers, Manny?”

  He barely glanced up from Taylor. “They took Mason and some of his teammates out to celebrate. Said they’d swing by tonight if it’s not too late.”

  “Uh-oh,” Prissy said teasingly. “I’d better get back in the kitchen and whip up another feast in case Troy comes with them.”

  Everyone laughed good-naturedly at the reference to the team’s Pro Bowl left tackle, a mountain of a man whose enormous appetite was a running joke among the players and coaches. When Troy wasn’t steamrolling
opponents on the football field, he could often be found wolfing down food at Prissy’s dinner table. Not that she minded. She’d been feeding Mason’s teammates since he was in middle school.

  Georgina and Carlene emerged from the kitchen, where they’d been helping with cleanup. As they started across the room to say hello to Quentin, he stood to greet both women with a kiss on the cheek.

  Carlene had come a long way from the days of badmouthing Quentin and questioning his ability to be faithful. Her own husband had been a shameless womanizer who’d walked out on the family when Lexi was a child. His desertion had embittered Carlene, causing her to mistrust all men. Quentin’s playboy reputation had made it easy for her to think the worst of him. But he’d won her over by proving just how much he loved and cherished her daughter.

  Carlene beamed up at him. “Hey, baby. You doing all right?”

  “Yes, ma’am. How about yourself?”

  “I’m doing just fine. Really enjoyed myself today.”

  “Yeah? I’m very glad to hear that,” Quentin said warmly.

  Carlene smiled and affectionately patted his cheek before shifting her attention to her grandson. “Come to Grandma,” she crooned, lifting the baby out of Quentin’s arms.

  Quentin rubbed the back of Junior’s head as he smiled quietly at his own mother. Georgina’s answering smile was wistful, and her eyes seemed to search his, looking for something.

  Watching them, Lexi felt a twinge of worry. She remembered the way Quentin had been pummeling the punching bag when she got home yesterday. And she remembered the cryptic remark he’d made as they lay together after making love. She’d told herself he was just missing his father, but she hadn’t been entirely convinced. Although he’d assured her that nothing was wrong, she knew him well enough to know when he wasn’t being honest with her.

  And now, witnessing the strange tension between him and his mother, she felt that same niggling suspicion that something was off.

  When Reese touched her shoulder, she turned her head to meet her friend’s concerned gaze. “Are you okay?”

  Lexi nodded quickly. “I’m fine.”

  “Are you sure? You looked worried just now.”

  “Probably just tired. It’s been a long day.” Lexi glanced past Reese to smile at Michael, who was bouncing his laughing son on his knee. “I’d be careful if I were you. MJ and Junior just ate a big meal.”

  “Really?” Instantly Michael’s leg went still, and he grinned at her. “Thanks for the heads-up.”

  She laughed. “Just looking out.”

  Celeste came over and took her grandson from Michael. “You and Quentin better go on and get some of that delicious pie before it’s all gone.”

  “Good idea.” Michael leaned close to Reese and brushed his mouth over hers, murmuring something that made her giggle softly before he pulled away and stood, clapping Quentin on the back.

  Together they headed off to the refreshment table, where Prissy was cheerfully doling out thick wedges of her pumpkin cheesecake pie.

  A few minutes later, Micah Wolf strutted into the room carrying a small 80’s-esque boombox on his shoulder like the rappers of old. Manning and Taylor had bought him the stereo that year for his sixth birthday, and he rarely left home without it. With a Grammy-winning violinist for a mother and a famous saxophone player for an uncle, it was no surprise that Micah loved music and enjoyed performing before captive audiences.

  Bobbing his little head to some internal beat, he set the boombox on the floor and pressed play, then announced to the group, “Watch me do the Dougie.”

  As he broke out into the once-popular hip-hop dance, a wave of appreciative applause and laughter swept around the room.

  Standing nearby, Matthew screwed up his face. “Aw, man, that dance is so old. And you’re not even doing it right. Lemme show you.” Not to be undone by his younger cousin, Matthew took center stage, drawing more cheers of delight as he showed off his impressive moves.

  Never one to be left out, Malcolm strutted over and started dancing with his twin brother and cousin. Even Max joined in, giggling impishly as he wiggled his little body to the music.

  “Looking good, pups,” Michael drawled, sauntering over to the group. “But let the big dogs show you how it’s done.”

  Everyone whooped and hollered in appreciation as Michael, Quentin, Manning and Marcus began doing the Dougie, leaning from side to side with a smoothness that would make Chris Brown bow down and give them props. They laughed good-naturedly as the boys earnestly tried to mimic their swagger.

  Around the room, smartphones were whipped out to record the entertaining performance. When it was over, the dancers were rewarded with rousing cheers and applause.

  Afterward the adults lingered for a while, laughing and chatting companionably while the children went back to running around and playing tag. When the little ones eventually grew restless, the younger couples gathered their respective broods, said their goodbyes and departed for home.

  It was after eight by the time Quentin and Lexi dropped off their mothers and pulled up to their house. Quentin, Michael, Manning and Marcus had carpooled to the game with Stan so that they could ride home with their wives and children.

  Quentin swung into the large garage and turned off the engine, but made no move to get out of the car.

  Lexi sat there studying his profile. “What’s going on, sweetheart?” she murmured.

  He didn’t respond.

  “You and your mom were awfully quiet on the way home. Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah.” A muscle ticked in his jaw.

  “Are you sure?” she pressed. “Because everything doesn’t seem okay.”

  He hesitated. “We had a disagreement about Junior yesterday.”

  “A disagreement? About what?”

  “Nothing major.”

  He’s lying, Lexi thought. Why?

  Frowning, she reached over and cradled his jaw, brushing her thumb over that throbbing muscle. He looked down for a long moment, then lifted his eyes to the rearview mirror to stare at their son.

  A shadow of a smile touched his mouth. “Why are you still awake?”

  Lexi turned around to look in the backseat. A pair of hazel eyes, bright with curiosity, stared back at her.

  Shaking her head, she pointed to the baby. “You’re supposed to be knocked out right now.”

  Junior gave her a wide, toothless grin.

  She laughed, and so did Quentin.

  When their eyes met, he smiled and touched her face. “Let’s go inside.”

  They entered the house through the kitchen. While Quentin headed off with Junior to get him ready for bed, Lexi began making preparations for tomorrow night’s dinner. She’d decided to fix an herb-crusted beef rib roast with potatoes, carrots, and green beans flavored with caramelized pecans.

  Crossing to the Sub-Zero refrigerator built into the cabinetry, she opened the freezer side and took out a large roast that she placed in the refrigerator to thaw overnight. As she gathered the other ingredients she would need, her mind replayed the short conversation she’d just had with Quentin. He’d lied to her, she was sure of it. What she didn’t know was why.

  What was he keeping from her? she wondered. And what did his mother have to do with it?

  Feeling more troubled than she had before, Lexi finished her task and left the kitchen. She found Quentin roughhousing with Junior on the living room floor. He’d taken off his Falcons jersey and wore a wifebeater over his jeans and Timbs. He was lying on his back, playfully tossing the baby into the air and catching him.

  Lexi watched them from the doorway, quietly delighting in the sound of their laughter ringing through the room. They were two of the most important people in her world, the best thing that ever happened to her. She didn’t think she could love anyone more than she loved this man and child.

  She would get answers out of Quentin before the night was over. But for now, she would enjoy this precious moment.

  Aft
er stepping out of her heels, she padded across the room to join her husband and son on the floor. When Quentin lowered Junior to his face and nuzzled his round belly, the baby let out a high-pitched squeal and vigorously kicked his legs.

  Quentin laughed. “Boy, you’re just as ticklish as your mama.”

  Lexi grinned, watching as he laid the baby on the plush pile of carpet. “I think he might actually be worse.”

  Quentin raised an eyebrow and gave her a diabolical grin. “Wanna bet?”

  Before she could even think of escaping, he sat up and quickly straddled her, pinning her to the floor. When he started tickling her, she squealed with laughter and squirmed wildly against him as his fingers dug between her ribs, exploiting that secret spot he’d uncovered so many years ago. When she tried to slap his hands away, he laughed and caught her by the wrists, pinning them above her head while he continued tickling her with his other hand.

  Delighted by his parents’ antics, Junior giggled and clapped excitedly.

  Lexi howled and begged for mercy until she nearly ran out of breath.

  Laughing, Quentin leaned down and smooched her soundly on her open mouth, his eyes shining with triumph.

  “Did I prove my point or nah?”

  “Nah!” she managed to choke out.

  “Oh, you haven’t had enough yet?”

  “I have, I have!”

  “Thought so.” Chuckling, Quentin pushed himself off her and stretched out beside Junior, sandwiching the baby between them.

  As her giggles trailed off, Lexi wiped her streaming eyes and sighed. “You play too much, Red.”

  He grinned. “You knew that from the start.”

  “I certainly did.” Spent from laughing so hard, she turned her head on the floor to nuzzle Junior’s warm cheek. He rolled toward her, babbling as he patted her face and playfully kicked his feet against her stomach.

  She grinned. “See what your daddy done started? He’s got you so wound up you’ll never go to sleep.”

  Quentin laughed. “Let’s take him for a walk. That usually does the trick.”