by Daria White
***
Lance’s mother took a seat on his living room sofa. He rubbed the back of his head. How did the conversation take a turn for the worst? Why did she have to ask him such personal questions? He wasn’t good at expressing his feelings, and according to his father, men expressed themselves through working hard and providing for their families.
He only let his guard down for one person. She saw the real him, vulnerable and kindhearted. Not the hard businessman he portrayed in front of others to prove himself. He shouldn’t have accused her of not knowing him. She knew him better than anyone, but he wasn’t lying. It’d been too long without them talking.
He ran his hand down his face. If he wasn’t careful, Chantelle would distract him. There was no way this would work. Why did he agree?
“Why didn’t you tell me she was writing the story?” His mother’s expression looked pinched.
“Don’t start, please,” he said. “I didn’t know myself until recently. All they said was a reporter would show to profile the wedding.”
“I’ll ask again. Since when is she back in town?”
“She has a name. Chantelle Woods. She visits her family all the time.”
“Not like this. She hasn’t been to this house.” His mother motioned her hand around his living room.
Apparently his mother wasn’t over their past either. Why should she be upset? Didn’t she get what she wanted when Chantelle left for college? Didn’t he listen to her advice because he’d been young and heartbroken at his mistakes?
How would his life have turned if he didn’t listen to his mother? Even his father co-signed. It didn’t surprise Lance. It was rare that his parents didn’t agree, especially with his decisions. Did they mean well, as they claimed to?
Lance focused on his mother. “She grew up here, Mom. Besides, I told you I didn’t know myself. Maybe they thought it was a good idea.”
“We can request someone else.” His mother reached inside her purse and showed him her cell phone. “I only have to make one phone call. What will people say if they see—”
“Who cares what they think? I’m over it.” Lance returned to his seat. He clenched his jaw.
“You and Andrea are the talk of the town. You’re a power couple, and I don’t think your ex-girl—I mean Chantelle writing the story will look good to the people,” his mother said. “Delta Heights has grown, but there are those that remember. I don’t want our good name attached to... you know.”
Scandal. It was the same word she’d used ten years ago. Lance’s gaze flicked upward. He needed air. He wanted the wedding to be over. If only he could talk to Andrea.
He didn’t lie to Chantelle about his fiancé’s sweet and kind heart. He cared about her. Lance recalled his proposal at the Taylor Gala.
Andrea had stood in her black floor-length gown. Black cloths covered the tables while name cards designated who sat where. Crystal and fine china and cloth napkins decorated the tables while scented candles and fresh flowers filled the air.
He had gotten down on one knee in the middle of the dance floor, taking out the princess cut diamond.
“Marry me, Andrea?” He had asked, his heart palpitating inside his chest. There. He had said it.
She covered her mouth with her hands for a moment. “Really?”
He took her left hand and placed the ring on her finger. She had shrieked and bobbed her head. The crowd cheered in the background as he hugged her to his chest. He had swallowed excessively that night. Shouldn’t he have felt happier?
“Lance?”
Tuning in back to their conversation, he licked his lips. “I need to finish some work.”
“You have your fitting for your tuxedo today.” His mother pointed at him.
“You can’t reschedule it?”
“This suit is tailor made. You have to go.”
“Give me an hour?” Because of his schedule, he hadn’t been back to his favorite place in a long time. He would visit today, not to mention the community center. He’d missed the kids. Kids. Lance wouldn’t go there.
His mother grabbed her purse and stood to her feet. “Very well. I swear, it’s as if you don’t want to get married. It better have nothing to do with her.”
Lance didn’t respond, but headed back to his bedroom. His mother could let herself out.
He paced his room once he entered. Checking his watch, he could make it to the center before making his next stops. The smiles on the kids’ faces would lift his spirits.
Lance needed a diversion, so he grabbed his briefcase and headed for his car. He drove in silence and released deep breaths. Pulling into the parking lot of the commercial steel building, he left his briefcase inside and walked inside the building towards one classroom.
With school almost out, some students came for tutoring, but the kids that filled the building were a mix from the town orphanage, two-parent homes, and single-parent homes.
He didn’t see Sadie at her desk, so he made his way to the basketball court. Lance stuffed his hands in his pockets as he watched the boys play. They came almost every day after school and today was no different. One of his pupils, Zane, smiled when he saw him.
“Hey guys, it’s Mr. Lance.” Zane shot his three-pointer and ran over to greet his mentor.
“What’s up guys? How was school? Finals were this week, right?”
“Them teachers don’t know what they talkin’ about. I can’t wait for the summer.”
Lance eyeballed him.
Zane rolled his eyes, but he corrected his English. “Those teachers don’t know what they’re talking about.”
“Thank you.” Lance fist bumped the boy. There was nothing wrong with slang, but he didn’t want the boy to take for granted his education. Some kids didn’t get the chance.
“You sure it’s them Z?” Andre said. He spun the basketball in his hands. “Sounds to me you just don’t get it.”
Zane’s nostrils flared.
Lance held up his hand. “That’s enough. Nobody picks on anybody around here. We’re a brotherhood. We support each other and if one of us falls...” He waited for them to finish his statement.
“We all fall.” The boys replied.
“That’s more like it.” He checked his watch. “I got to head back to the office, but I wanted to look in on you guys. Let me see one more play.” He motioned for them to go back to the court. “Let’s go!”
The boys ran back to the basketball court and resumed their game. After Lance witnessed a few more shots, he waved goodbye. As he paced to his car, another place came to mind for him to unwind. He didn’t need to stay at the office for long. He could spare some time at his other favorite spot. A place that brought peace. After today, Lance needed it.
Chapter 10
Chantelle leaned against her car as she stared along the country road, a few miles outside of Delta Heights. Barbed wiring fenced the area, while white mileage posts leaned lost to weeds. Crops grew up in pastures, whiskey barley and yellow canola flowers, along with stunted trees dotted the fallow land.
Wind weathered through the wild grass and crops. Chantelle heard the scruff of gravel underneath her heels. She inhaled dry grass and flowering weeds, and the gravel poked through the thin sole of her shoes. She should have brought flats. How was she supposed to know Lance’s attitude would shift during the interview? What did she ask him that was so wrong?
If he didn’t want his life publicized, then he didn’t need to be dating a famous model. While she ignored the lump in her throat, she could sympathize with him. Ever since she’d known him, Lance was not much for seeking attention.
He enjoyed being behind the scenes, but he had to have changed since he was making his father’s law firm even more famous. She remembered how brilliant Lance was in high school, graduating as one of the top seniors. Even in her college years, she had kept up with him some, noting his success on the basketball team. Instead of going pro, as many assumed he would, he stuck with the books. She stopped checki
ng after college, no longer wanting to torment herself with thoughts of him.
The wind picked up, causing her hair to raise from resting at her shoulders. Chantelle knew she needed to apologize. They weren’t the teenagers who sneaked out to see each other despite his parents’ disapproval.
They only spent more time together. Talking. Laughing. Chantelle never felt more loved. She swallowed as she wandered a few steps from her parked car. Lance didn’t hint at feelings for her. Not until his sister died, and he kissed her at the bleachers.
Then he asked to meet her later. Chantelle had sneaked out, telling her parents she was hanging out with other friends. She hadn’t intended to lie to them, but she knew they wouldn’t approve of her seeing him alone and not with the rest of the group. How would she explain to her parents he needed her?
They attended the funeral for his sister. They saw him stare into space as the pallbearers carried her casket. It was best that her parents didn’t know.
She had cut the engine, watching him pull his car up behind her. Chantelle didn’t hesitate. In the few hours apart, she had missed him. Lance had been enthusiastic to see her. As soon as they reached each other, he had kissed her.
Then another night came to mind. Chantelle didn’t hide her feelings. They were young, so their love for each other had overpowered them. It was the most intense experience of her life. Well... almost. There was another night. The last one, and it brought pain. A pain that had left scars on her heart. A pain that took years to heal from, but in time, she’d accepted it. There were times it triggered her, but Chantelle wouldn’t return to that dark place.
“I thought you forgot about this place,” a familiar tenor voice said.
She must have tuned out. Chantelle pivoted to see Lance leaning against his car. How did she not hear him pull up? She brushed her hair behind her ears once more. Her hair had to be a mess because of the wind, but at least it cooled her body. “I didn’t forget. There are a lot of... memories here.”
He bobbed his head. “I agree.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets and stepped closer.
“I’m surprised you’re here.” She couldn’t say she wasn’t glad to see him. Her irritation with him had subsided. She was equally to blame.
Lance gave a slight smile. “I come here from time to time. It’s been a while.”
Chantelle nodded, rubbing her arms.
He stared at her. “Sorry about what happened. I shouldn’t have talked to you like that.”
The tension from earlier released from Chantelle’s body. “I wasn’t too nice to you either. If I went too far in the interview, I apologize.”
His eyes beamed. “We’ve come a long way. I remember there were times we could go for days without speaking after a fight.”
Chantelle giggled. “Our interesting friendship. I’m glad you’ve matured.” It was true. That occurred when they were friends. Things changed after he kissed her.
He touched a hand to his chest, but his smile gave him away. “Me? You stormed in my house and snapped at me.”
“I call it being passionate,” she said.
“Don’t change Chantelle.” Then his stare turned serious. “It is good to see you and...” He kicked a rock as if it pained him to continue. “I’ll try to comply with this article.”
“Are you sure? I don’t want you uncomfortable with me—”
“I’ll be fine. Can you handle it?” The corner of his mouth quirked into a grin. He was being playful? That was always a good sign.
“I did in the past.” She gasped. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have brought that up.”
“It’s cool. It was a long time ago.”
“Friends?”
He bobbed his head. “Friends.”
She wrung her hands together. “And...” Could she promise this? “I promise not to write anything that you don’t want me to. If I ask something that you don’t want printed, I’ll make sure of it. You have my word.”
His gaze softened. Why did he stare at her as if she were a rare gem? “I believe you.” A chuckle escaped his lips. “You always had a way of putting people at ease.”
Chantelle shrugged. “It’s a gift.” They both laughed, but he had to know. “I mean it, Lance. I’ll respect your wishes. Deal?”
Lance might as well have walked in slow motion. When he reached out his hand, he took hers in his. The sensation of being flooded with warmth overwhelmed Chantelle. Her fingers tingled as his firm hand enveloped hers, but he remained gentle.
“Deal.” He released his grip.
Chantelle could still feel his touch, but she ignored it. “So… what’s next? When would you like to reschedule?”
“Come with me.”
***
The swoosh of fabric and store music flooded Lance’s ears. Scanners bleeped as they picked up bar codes. The click and clack for hangers rubbed against each other.
Lance stood still as a statue, not wanting Mrs. Nelson to poke him with a stickpin. He’d already experience it pricking his skin the first time around. He didn’t want a repeat.
The joys of putting a wedding together. If he had his way, he would wear a collared dress shirt and khaki pants. He could hear his mother’s response if he suggested anything less than the perfect wedding. The stiffness in his jaw increased.
Then Lance’s eyes caught Chantelle, sitting across from him on a metal chair with her tablet in hand. He swallowed and his fingers brushed against his palms. They sweated, but he could do this. They agreed to be friends. He could keep his thoughts in check. Yet, she sat with her legs crossed in her heeled pumps. How did she walk in those?
He licked his lips. Chantelle had loved wearing heels since their high school days. He loved the ones she wore during their senior prom night. Though she hadn’t leveled with his height, she didn’t have to reach too far to wrap her arms around his neck as they danced in the school’s gym.
Lance stared. She looked the same. Her smile, bright as a diamond in the sun. The girl of eighteen he had loved grew into a gorgeous woman. It wasn’t her looks only that caught his attention, but her ambition. Her drive for her work. Her sense of humor and charm. It made Lance remember—everything. How much longer would this take? His mouth twisted, knowing Mrs. Nelson wouldn’t let him leave until she finished.
As Chantelle studied her tablet, she chewed on her bottom lip. Taking a finger, she brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. Lance pressed his lips together. Bad idea to stare.
He needed a diversion. “Taking that many notes about me?”
Chantelle raised her chin. “Not too many, but a few.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Where will you two spend your honeymoon?” She then stood to her feet, raising her phone as if to take a picture.
He groaned. “Not too many pictures, please?”
She grinned. “You still don’t care for the camera. How did you get through the bachelor interview?”
“My mother,” he mumbled.
“Who?” Chantelle asked.
“I need more stickpins,” Mrs. Nelson said. “Don’t you move, Lance.”
“Yes, Mrs. Nelson.” He wouldn’t roll his eyes. Mrs. Nelson was a sweetheart but a stickler for details.
Chantelle giggled, covering her mouth with her free hand.
His forehead wrinkled. “At my expense. Thank you for being a friend.”
She pressed a hand to her chest.
“What was the question earlier?” he asked.
“Your honeymoon.”
“We said Egypt.”
She bobbed her head. “Great. No change of plans? Is that the only place you two have in mind?”
“With her in Greece, she’s thinking of going there instead.”
Chantelle grabbed her tablet once more and typed. “So… if you don’t mind my asking again, what makes Andrea special enough to marry her?”
Did her voice shake when she asked that question? Lance couldn’t pinpoint it. Even if she had an opinion about his upcom
ing wedding, why would he care?
“We’re good together.” That sufficed, didn’t it? He wouldn’t go into details about his feelings. He and Andrea needed some privacy.
“Lance?” Chantelle raised an eyebrow. “Really? That’s it. ‘We’re good together.’”
“What do you want me to say?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe you found your soulmate. You can’t imagine the rest of your life without her. She makes you smile from within. She challenges you to be better. She’s a blessing and an asset to your life.”
He watched as her face seemed to shine. Lance had experienced that kind of love before. It didn’t dawn on him as a teenage boy watching her walk down the halls of Delta Heights High School. Chantelle always had trouble opening up her locker.
“You don’t know your combination?” He had asked.
“I know it,” she had said, twisting the lock back and forth. “It just won’t work.”
Reaching for the lock, his fingers brushed against hers. “Here, let me help.”
She huffed and stepped backwards. “Fine.”
In less than a minute, Lance had opened the metal door.
“I see you’re thinking. Do you have an answer now?” Chantelle stepped forward, interrupting his memories of her. He needed to call Andrea today. His wife to be. The only woman who needed to be on his mind.
“I’ll get back to you on that.” Lance willed his arms not to move to avoid the nicks of the stick pins.
Then his phone rang. He rolled his eyes since he couldn’t move. Chantelle set her tablet on her chair.
“Where is it?” she asked.
“My jacket pocket.” He made the gesture with his head. “Where is Mrs. Nelson when you need her?”
Chantelle hurried to retrieve his phone from the dressing room. As soon as she trotted back to him, he nodded for her to answer. She put the phone to his ear.
“Hello?” Lance said into the phone.
