“I know.” She winked. “You inspire me.”
A rakish grin spread across his face. “I’d be happy to inspire you some more if you hurry up and finish eating.”
Lexi laughed. “Don’t rush me.” She took a bite of her frittata, enjoying the savory blend of eggs, cheese, vegetables and herbs. “Mmm. That’s really good.”
“It is. But you’ve spoiled me.”
“How so?”
“I can’t eat anyone else’s food without comparing it to yours. So, yeah, the frittata’s good, but yours is way better.”
Lexi gave him a teasing look. “You’ll say anything to get me back in that bed.”
His eyes glinted with mischief. “Did it work?”
“No.” Her lips twitched. “Maybe just a little.”
They both laughed.
Quentin picked up his champagne flute, smiling at her over the rim. “Thanks for bringing me a change of clothes.”
She smiled. “You know I always come prepared.”
Before leaving home last night, she’d packed an overnight bag that included a clean suit, shirt and tie for Quentin to wear so he could go straight to the office from here.
Finished with his meal, he leaned back in his chair and glanced out the window at the downtown skyline. Sensing a shift in his mood, Lexi watched him, waiting for him to speak again.
“I talked to Ma yesterday.”
“Yeah?” Lexi said carefully. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah.” Long pause. “My uncle invited us to Savannah for the weekend. He wants us to see the family.”
“Really?”
Quentin nodded. “Ma asked us to go with her.”
Lexi stared at him. “And what did you tell her?”
He turned his head, and their eyes met and held for a long moment. “I told her yes.”
Lexi reached across the table and touched his hand. “I know that must have been difficult for you. But you did the right thing.”
“Did I?” he murmured.
“I think so.”
Lowering his gaze, he turned her hand over and laced his strong fingers through hers. Neither of them spoke for several moments.
Then Quentin said quietly, “I don’t know what to expect. I’ve never met any of these people before. They’re strangers to me.”
“Yes, they are,” Lexi softly agreed. “But it doesn’t have to stay that way.”
He was silent.
“Do they know we’re coming?”
“I don’t know. I assume my uncle will tell everyone before we arrive.”
Lexi nodded, gently pressing her palm against his much larger one. “So we’ll go to Savannah this weekend and meet the family. Depending on how everything goes, maybe we’ll return for another visit. Or maybe we won’t. This estrangement has been more than forty years in the making. If there’s any chance of reconciliation, it’s not going to happen overnight.”
Quentin gave a slow nod. “You’re right.”
His quiet admission sent a wave of protective tenderness washing over her. God, how she loved him. “So when are we leaving?”
“Friday morning around eleven. Does that work for you?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
“Good.” Quentin lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it, then gently released her and sat back. “Now finish your food, wife.”
She smiled. “Yes, husband.”
He helped himself to another strawberry, watching as she ate the last bite of her frittata and washed it down with the rest of her mimosa.
As the sensual notes of Syleena Johnson’s “Slowly” began playing, Quentin wiped his mouth with his napkin and tossed it onto his empty plate, then rose from his chair and rounded the table. Leaning over Lexi, he ran his knuckles down her cheek and brushed his thumb across her mouth. When her lips parted, he slid his thumb between them.
She licked him intimately, savoring the sweet taste of strawberry left on his finger.
He watched her, his eyes darkening with hunger. “Did you get enough to eat?”
“Yes.” Holding his gaze, she sucked his thumb down to his knuckle. “But I can always eat more.”
His dick sprang to attention, tenting the front of his robe. Without preamble he picked her up and carried her across the suite toward the sumptuously rumpled bed. “Time for dessert.”
She laughed breathlessly. “Who has dessert after breakfast?”
“We do, darlin’. We do.”
12
When Quentin left work that evening, he had every intention of heading home to wait for Lexi and Junior to return from a birthday party. Instead he found himself taking a detour to his grandparents’ house. Now that he would be meeting the rest of his mother’s relatives, he suddenly craved the comforting familiarity of his father’s big, boisterous family.
Forty minutes later, he pulled up to the modest brick rambler that had been his second home since childhood. Lights glowed in the windows with a welcoming warmth that was as dependable as a new sunrise. His grandfather’s dusty Ford pickup sat in the driveway, along with the well-preserved Cadillac he’d bought his wife many birthdays ago.
Quentin parked behind the Caddy and got out of his vehicle. He had just started up the walk when the front door was flung wide open and his grandmother squealed, “I thought that was your car coming down the street!”
As Quentin stepped up on the porch, she grabbed him in one of her big bear hugs, making him laugh as she pulled his face down and exuberantly kissed both his cheeks.
“Hey, Mama.” He smiled down at her. “How you doing?”
“Wonderful, baby. Just wonderful.” She pulled him inside the fragrant warmth of the house, then stuck her head out the door and made an exaggerated show of looking around. “Where’s my baby?”
Quentin chuckled. “Lexi took him to a birthday party. One of our neighbor’s kids just turned two.”
“Oh, that’s sweet.” Closing the door, his grandmother patted his cheek, her dark eyes twinkling with affection. “Remember your birthday parties? Between your cousins and friends and the neighborhood kids, there’d be so many children there we couldn’t keep track of them all.”
Quentin grinned. “I remember.”
“Not much has changed, come to think of it. You’ve always got plenty of guests at your birthday parties. I think the last party at that club had so many people, all kinds of fire codes were violated.” She winked. “Thank God Chief Wolf was there, or we might have gotten in trouble.”
They both laughed.
Penny Reddick, the family matriarch, was a diminutive woman with an infectious smile and a charismatic personality. Her rich dark skin was finely wrinkled yet still tight across her cheekbones. Her soft gray hair was always neatly pressed and curled. For as long as Quentin could remember, she’d kept a tube of red lipstick in the front pocket of her dress or housecoat so she could make herself pretty for unexpected visitors.
She was born and raised on a small farm in Albany, Georgia. In her youth she’d sung in a backwoods blues club where she met Frank Reddick, a navy fighter pilot returning home from the war. The moment their eyes met across the smoky room, it was love at first sight. Defying their families and Georgia’s anti-miscegenation laws, they’d secretly eloped and run off to Atlanta to begin their new life together. Sixty-seven years later, with four children and a slew of grandkids under their belt, they were still blissfully in love.
Grandma Penny clasped Quentin’s hand in hers. “Have you had dinner?”
“Not yet. I came straight from work.”
“We just ate. If I had known you were coming over, we would have waited for you. You know I always make plenty in case one of you drops by.”
“It’s all good, Mama.” Quentin followed her through the foyer to the small kitchen that had been recently remodeled and featured on a popular HGTV show—a surprise anniversary gift from their children and grandchildren. Although the dramatic makeover had been sorely needed, nothing would ever replace Quentin’s
memories of sitting at the old kitchen table and drinking his grandmother’s sun-brewed sweet tea while listening to classic Motown songs. Penny Reddick’s love for music had been passed down to her son Fraser, who then passed it down to Quentin.
Crossing to the new refrigerator, he helped himself to a cold beer. “Where’s Pops?”
“Downstairs in the bathroom doing his nightly you-know-what.” Grandma Penny chortled. “You men are like clockwork.”
Quentin grinned. “It’s a gift.”
She snorted. “That’s what your granddaddy says.”
“Because it’s true.”
His grandmother laughed, shaking her head. “Are you hungry? I can fix you a plate.”
“Maybe in a minute,” he said, twisting the cap off his bottle. “We had a late luncheon at the office, so I’m still kinda full.”
“All right. Just let me know whenever you’re ready.”
“I will.” Quentin leaned back against the center island and took a swig of beer.
“So how’s Alexis doing?” his grandmother asked, wiping the granite counter with a soapy dishcloth.
Quentin smiled. “She’s doing well.”
Twinkling dark eyes met his. “Still not pregnant?”
Quentin laughed, shaking his head. “No, Mama, she’s not pregnant. You know we’re waiting until Junior turns one.”
“I know, I know. Just checking to make sure you still want more children.”
“Oh, we definitely want more. I was an only child, so I want Junior to have siblings.” Quentin smiled softly. “I’m hoping we’ll have a daughter who looks just like Lexi.”
This made his grandmother smile. “She’d be a pretty little thing, wouldn’t she? And you know she’d have you wrapped around her sweet little finger.”
He sighed. “She sure would.”
His grandmother laughed, rubbing his arm as she shuffled over to the sink to wring out the dishcloth. “I’ve always liked Alexis. And not just because she’s petite like me—though that certainly gives her extra points,” she joked.
Quentin grinned.
“I liked her the moment I met her. She had such a sweet personality and a warm spirit. Remember how you brought her to our family picnic at Piedmont Park during your freshman year? It was the first time you’d ever brought a girl around the family. Not even your prom date met us before the night of the prom, and that was the last we ever saw of her. And then along came Alexis. You introduced her as a friend, but I could tell she already meant more to you than that. After the picnic, I told your granddaddy that you and Alexis would probably end up together. I’m so glad I was right.” She snorted. “Took y’all long enough though.”
Quentin laughed, bending to kiss her cheek. “Better late than never, right?”
“Amen. Hallelujah.” Grandma Penny grinned up at him. “Better go on and say hello to your granddaddy before he thinks I’m monopolizing you.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Quentin gave her another kiss, making her titter with delight before he left the kitchen and headed down to the basement.
At the bottom of the staircase was a short hall that led to a bathroom and a storage closet at one end. Quentin went the other way toward the main family area.
It was comfortably furnished with an oversized brown leather sofa and matching love seat. Near the brick fireplace was an old leather recliner that had seen better days, but would never be replaced. The evening news blared from the 80” flat-panel television Quentin had bought his grandfather a few years ago. There was a bar in one corner, and a large aquarium built into the wall. Another wall was covered almost entirely with framed family photographs.
Sipping his beer, Quentin walked over to study the collection of pictures. Many of them featured him and his cousins growing up, him with his parents, him graduating from college and law school, him and Lexi on their wedding day and then recently, with Junior.
He stared at the pictures, his gaze lingering on one in particular. It was an old photo of his father, taken on the day he graduated from the police academy. Fraser Reddick stood tall and proud in his crisp blue uniform, his cap tucked tight under his arm. There was a twinkle in his hazel eyes as he grinned broadly into the camera. He looked so strong and brave, so excited at the prospect of being able to provide for his family and serve his community.
He’d worn his badge proudly and served with honor until the day he was called to the scene of an armed robbery, where his confrontation with a twitchy-fingered drug addict would be his last.
Quentin felt a deep ache rising in his chest, tightening his throat around the next swallow of beer.
His father was a cop, one of the good ones. He wasn’t supposed to be gunned down in the prime of his life. He wasn’t supposed to die.
“Well, hello there, son.”
Quentin turned to see his grandfather standing across the room. “Hey, Pops,” he said, managing a weak smile. “How’re you doing?”
For an arrested moment his grandfather stared at him, the color leaching out of his face as if he were seeing the ghost of his firstborn son.
It was a reaction Quentin had grown accustomed to. So he just stood there, silent and waiting, until his grandfather cleared his throat and offered a crooked smile.
“Good to see you, grandson. Didn’t know you were stopping by this evening.”
“Wasn’t planning on it. I was on my way home from work and just…” Quentin trailed off with a shrug.
His grandfather’s face softened. “Well, I’m glad to see you. I know your grandma is too.”
Quentin thought of the exuberant welcome he’d received at the front door and grinned. “I think that’s a safe assumption.”
Frank Reddick chuckled. He was a tall man, lean and sturdy. He had steely green eyes that could face the brightest sun without flinching. His skin was deeply tanned from a lifetime of fishing and hunting and hiking through mountains. His once thick dark hair had turned thin and white as snow. But with his rugged features and strong cleft chin, he was still handsome by anyone’s standards.
“Is Junior with Alexis?” he asked.
“Yeah. They went to a birthday party.”
Nodding, his grandfather shuffled over to his favorite recliner and sat slowly, almost gingerly. Watching him, Quentin was reminded that the larger-than-life authority figure from his youth was now an old man. Not frail, but definitely old.
Sipping his beer, he wandered over to the aquarium. It was stocked with different tropical fish that had been individually named by the younger grandchildren. He stood studying the fish, watching as they swam in and out of the driftwood and plastic castles that decorated the tank.
When he turned from the aquarium, he saw his grandfather observing him with those keen eyes that had served him well as a fighter Ace during World War Two. Eyes that still missed nothing.
“Everything okay, son?”
“Yeah,” Quentin said.
“Are you sure? You look like something’s weighing on your mind.”
“Not really.” Quentin walked over and took a seat on the worn leather sofa.
His grandfather smiled at him, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “You know your grandma’s probably on the phone right now calling your aunts and cousins to let them know you’re here. Hell, they’re probably already on their way over as we speak.”
Quentin laughed. “Probably.”
Most of the Reddicks lived within ten minutes of one another, which made it easy for them to get together at a moment’s notice. Which they often did, no special occasion required.
Quentin and his grandfather watched the news together in companionable silence.
After a few minutes, Grandpa Frank casually remarked, “Your mother told us about her brother’s visit. Must have been one helluva shock.”
“It was,” Quentin murmured.
“She says you all are driving down to Savannah this weekend.”
Quentin nodded slowly.
His grandfather glanced away from the t
elevision. “After all these years, I know it won’t be easy for your mother to see her family again. Thank you for going with her. It means a lot to her.”
Quentin stared down at the bottle in his hand. “Ma knows I’d do anything for her.”
“I know. You’re a good boy, Quentin. Always have been.” His grandfather stared off toward the aquarium, his expression suddenly pensive. “I want to tell you some things…things I should have told you a long time ago.”
Quentin looked at his grandfather.
“A few months before you were born, your father came to me for some advice. He was thinking about giving up boxing and getting a real job so he could support his family. He loved boxing, and he was damn good at it. He was winning fights and starting to make a name for himself. But the prize money he earned wasn’t enough to provide for you and your mother, and he didn’t want her shouldering the responsibility of being the breadwinner, no matter how highly educated she was. You see, part of him felt guilty for causing the rift between Georgina and her kinfolk. He knew how much she’d sacrificed to be with him, and he was determined to show her that she hadn’t made a mistake in choosing him over her family.”
Grandpa Frank paused, staring into the shimmering depths of the aquarium as though he were searching for answers. “He came to me that day, and he asked me what I thought of him hanging up the boxing gloves to find a steady job. I told him that’s what a man was supposed to do. Provide for his family, even if that meant giving up his dreams. I encouraged him to join the police force. So that’s what he did. He became a cop. And he was a damn good one. When that animal took him from us—” Grandpa Frank broke off, his gnarled fingers clenching on the armrest.
Even after all these years, the pain of losing his son was still raw, a festering wound that refused to heal. “When your father died,” he continued in a thick voice, “I felt responsible for pushing him into a dangerous line of work. I blamed myself for his death, and that guilt affected the way I treated you for a while.”
Quentin stared down at the carpeted floor without speaking.
“With you looking just like Fraser…well, sometimes it was hard to look at you without seeing him. And seeing him was unbearable.” Grandpa Frank paused, his throat working on a hard swallow. “Your grandma warned me that I was pushing you away. But I was so consumed with my guilt and grief that I didn’t want to hear it. And then I started to notice how much time you were spending with Sterling Wolf. Michael was your best friend, of course, and you’d always enjoyed hanging out at his house. But it wasn’t just that. You were doing more activities with his father, seeking out his advice more than mine. It really hit me when the time came for our summer camping trip, and you didn’t want to go unless Sterling could come. That’s when I knew your grandma was right. I was losing you.”
This I Promise You Page 13
