All the Things I Meant to Tell You

by Tiffany L. Warren

  “You don’t even need a girdle,” Sam said. “Why do you torture yourself?”

  “For beauty. And because I’m too lazy to keep going to the gym like Twila.”

  “You are beautiful.”

  “You say that to me every day, and I never get sick of hearing it.”

  “I asked you to come out here, away from everyone.” Sam said, “because I think it’s the tackiest thing ever when dudes propose to their girls at someone else’s wedding.”

  “Wait . . .”

  Before I could connect the dots, Sam was on one knee and holding out a ring box. I think I snatched the box out of his hand even though my hands trembled.

  “Sam . . . I . . . oh my goodness . . . I . . .”

  “I hope there’s a yes in there,” Sam said with a laugh.

  “There’s a yes. There’s a hell yes. Hell yes!”

  Sam and I kissed to the sound of the waves crashing against the cliff. The ocean had been the only witness of this proposal, but it was the perfect audience. The ocean applauded our love.

  We didn’t rejoin the wedding celebration that night. We slipped into our suite and had a celebration of our own. There was so much love in the atmosphere that I’m sure no one missed us. Especially the new lovers Twila and DeAndre. They’d probably beat Sam and I to their own secret hideaway.

  People, women particularly, were always talking about the things they’d tell their younger selves, at sixteen or twenty—ages that were pivotal to building their esteem and self-worth. But if I could, I’d only need to go back one year. When I was crying over a romance that was never meant to be, I’d tell myself that there was still love in the world. And that soulmates were still finding one another, and that mine was coming. I’d tilt my chin up and tell myself to stand in the sun, because my joy was on the way. And then, I’d go and whisper the same things to my sisters, and we’d stand in the sun together.

  In anticipation.

  Don’t miss the previous book by Tiffany L. Warren that

  introduced sorority sisters Hahna, Twila, and Kimberly . . .

  All the Things I Should Have Known

  They are forty-something, successful, financially set . . . and done with trying to find “perfect” husbands. So why can’t Hahna, Twila, and Kimberly have men strictly for friendship, companionship—and especially mind-blowing sex? Their solution: be sugar mamas to gorgeous young studs who promise the best of having it all. But the ladies soon find that real lust and no strings is way more complicated than they thought . . .

  All-business and all about the money, Hahna is drawn to Sam, an aspiring writer. He’s content with his work and Hahna, but her determination to make him appreciate the finest things in life could easily tear them apart. Cautious Kimberly is swept off her feet by handsome adrenaline-junkie Shawn—but an old flame from her past sparks an even more dangerous passion. And for Twila, a smokin’ hot Instagram model is fulfilling all her scandalous, insatiable dreams . . . until his high-maintenance demands and jealousy throw her life into chaos. Now Hahna, Kimberly, and Twila need to trust their instincts and their hearts to reclaim their joy—and the love they truly deserve.

  Available wherever books are sold

  Chapter 1

  A year ago today, Torian was a ghost.

  Hahna’s Facebook page reminded her of this fact. Was there a filter on Facebook to delete the bad memories and only remind you of the good ones? She slowly scrolled the page and remembered. That fateful morning, she’d woken up to a note. Five words had changed her life.

  Baby, I can’t do this.

  Hahna had no idea what this one thing was that Torian couldn’t do, because his note wasn’t specific. She had a few ideas, though. He couldn’t be faithful. He couldn’t commit. And he damn sure couldn’t tell the truth.

  Or maybe it wasn’t just one thing. Maybe Torian couldn’t do any of the things she wanted him to do—or be any of the things she wanted him to be. Just because he was a chocolate-covered demigod who made her quiver with a glance; and just because he’d showered her with expensive shoes and jewelry and vacations; and just because they’d probably make cute kids—it didn’t mean that Torian Jackson truly wanted to have a life with her.

  So, he’d disappeared, and he’d left a note as a good-bye.

  Hahna placed her phone facedown on her huge cherry-wood desk. The desk she’d splurged on when her consulting firm, the Data Whisperers, exceeded twenty-seven million dollars in annual revenue. The desk that made her office smell like old money, even though the money that bought it was brand-new.

  Hahna walked over to the large bay window that she’d had custom-installed to give her a panoramic view of the lake and magnolia trees behind the old-style Buckhead mansion that she’d renovated and turned into her company’s main office. She met with clients there and gave them gracious Southern hospitality. Sweet tea, biscuits and honey, and proposals that opened their eyes to all the ways their small companies could use the data they hoarded on laptops and tablets.

  Hahna gazed out the window, twirled her right index finger through her honey-colored curls, breathed, and found her peace. Those small actions had become muscle memory for her. She’d made it a habit to calm herself when anxiety threatened to consume her spirit.

  Sylvia, Hahna’s assistant, stepped into her office. “Hahna, I ordered the car service to take you to the airport. Is there anything else you need me to do before I get out of here for the weekend?”

  Hahna looked over at Sylvia and smiled. It was only Thursday, but Hahna was giving Sylvia a long weekend because she was taking one. Her annual spa retreat with her best friends, Twila and Kimberly. They would make her forget Torian, the ghost, and make new memories for her Facebook timeline.

  “You’re free to go, Sylvia. What do you have planned for the weekend?”

  “My grandbaby is coming over, and we’re making jewelry and having a fashion show.”

  Hearing Sylvia talk about her granddaughter made Hahna feel warm inside. The idea of doing fun activities with a little person was a dream that Hahna used to have—before she hit forty and her ovaries decided that they wanted to turn their full-time job into a part-time I-show-up-when-I-feel-like-it gig. And before she had a ghost boyfriend.

  But this weekend was not about the ghost, or her sometime-y ovaries. Spending time with her girls was about rejuvenation, restoration, and relaxation. Some of her favorite r words.

  “You have a good time with your beautiful granddaughter. I’ll see you on Tuesday morning.”

  “Tuesday? You’re being generous.”

  “I decided that I won’t be back until Tuesday, so you get the benefit of my wanderlust.”

  Sylvia laughed. “Wander on, baby, but be careful about that lust. Don’t come back here from that island with one of those green-card seekers.”

  “I can’t import a man? You don’t care about me importing furniture, but you won’t let me bring back some hot chocolate.”

  They shared a long laugh that felt good. Laughing, along with breathing, twirling her hair, and gazing out of her bay window, held Hahna together when her cracks started to show. That’s why the spa retreats were so important. She was going to laugh, probably at Twila’s antics, breathe in the ocean air, and twirl her hair while gazing upon every fine piece of sculpted chocolate that passed her on the beach.

  “You don’t need to import a man, sweetie. God is going to send you one.”

  Hahna accepted this as fact because Sylvia believed it, not because she had any evidence of God being concerned with her singlehood. This blessed man who might fall from the heavens was clearly on God’s time.

  “I know. If I put out positivity, I will attract positive energy.”

  “Unh-uh. Don’t start talking to me about the universe and attracting. You know good and damn well, I’m talking about Jesus. ’Bye, chil’.”

  Hahna chuckled some more as Sylvia muttered, My sweet Jesus and Oh, the blood of the Savior, all the way down the stairs. Sylvia loved
the Lord but would also cuss you out about Jesus.

  Hahna walked back over to her desk and shut down her laptop. For a half second, she was tempted to bring it with her, but then she quickly changed her mind. There wouldn’t be any relaxing, rejuvenating, or restoration if she was checking emails all weekend. Plus, if any emergencies popped up while she was out of the country, her staff was more than capable.

  Corden, Hahna’s senior data analyst, peeked his head into the office.

  “Oh, good,” he said, “you’re still here. I thought you were gone already.”

  “Almost. The car service will be here in a bit. What’s up?”

  “Just a teeny-tiny client issue.”

  Hahna read Corden’s body language. His usually tucked-in button-down was half out of his skinny jeans. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, and his nostrils were flared. This was not teeny-tiny. He wouldn’t be standing in her office, fifteen minutes before her car whisked her away to vacation, if it was.

  “Do I need to sit down?”

  “No . . . well, maybe . . .”

  “Shit.”

  Hahna sat down, placed her hands on the desk, and waited. She hoped it would be quick. She didn’t want to miss her flight.

  “Aliyah mistakenly sent table data from Shale Accounting to We Work Employment Agency. It was an honest mistake, but the data had sensitive personally identifiable information of Shale’s customers. Should we disclose the data breach?”

  “Shit, shit, shit.”

  “I know.”

  Hahna never strategized on this type of thing without sleeping on it first, but there was no time to sleep on it this time.

  “We have to disclose it. To both parties. We Work and Shale. The issue is how we do it. We don’t want them to lose confidence in our processes.”

  “Right. So, Aliyah was sending a dashboard with sample table data over to Shale’s database analyst for review. She started typing the name Regina, but Renaldo popped up. She was going so quickly that she didn’t realize the email address was wrong.”

  “Have we already asked We Work to delete the data?”

  “Yes, we sent a communication that said the information was sent in error, and we requested that they delete it as soon as possible.”

  “So, here’s how we will handle Shale. First, create a new secure process for sharing data with their staff. I suggest we use our secure upload site. Then, explain what happened, and assure them that their customers’ data is secure.”

  “Are they going to believe it?”

  “I’ve got a good relationship with Julian Cortez, one of the partners at Shale. I think that I will be able to smooth over any rough edges when I get back.”

  “Thanks, boss, I hate to bring this up right before you leave for the beach.”

  Hahna relaxed in her chair, although she was anything but calm about this situation. If Julian and the other partners at Shale felt strongly about this data breach, then they could end up losing one of their biggest clients.

  “Also, finish their damn dashboard this weekend. I don’t care how many hours y’all have to work. Take some days off next week when I get back. We can’t deliver bad news without that dashboard being completed. And I mean ready to go, not in pilot mode. How close is Aliyah to finishing?”

  “She’s close. I think if I work with her, we can deliver the dashboard and the email on Monday.”

  “You’re not just blowing smoke up my ass, are you?”

  “No. She has been testing every page on the dashboard and is only working out a few quirks. We’ll get it done. Go enjoy the beach.”

  “I’ll try.”

  “No, you will. Did you get that bathing suit you showed me?”

  “The low-cut white one?”

  “Yes, that one. The husband maker.”

  Hahna cracked up. The swimsuit was sexy, and she’d asked Corden what he thought. The man had impeccable taste, and although he had a longtime fiancée and a daughter, he felt more like a girlfriend than a male subordinate.

  “It’s in my bag, Corden, I don’t know if I’ll be bold enough to put it on.”

  “If Twila sees it, you will. You have fun, honey. I’m gonna go catch Aliyah before she leaves and let her know it’s gonna be a long weekend.”

  “Thanks for holding this together.”

  “This is what finances my comfortable lifestyle. We’re not losing this client.”

  Hahna jumped up from her desk and hugged Corden. He had been with her from the start and was as invested in the Data Whisperers as she was.

  “Have fun, boss lady.”

  Corden left Hahna’s office to round up Aliyah, and Hahna exhaled. That could’ve been a vacation-cancelling emergency. If it had happened a couple of years ago, no one could’ve convinced her to get on a plane. But she had developed her staff, and she trusted them.

  Hahna gathered her luggage from the closet when she heard the SUV pull up in the drive downstairs. As soon as she got to the airport, the shenanigans would commence.

  Relax. Rejuvenate. Restore. Her mantra for the weekend, even if/when Twila pulled up with drama.