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Rowan coughed and cleared his throat. “Okay. Bad choice of words.”
“You think?” Corona dragged herself off the floor and then quickly rummaged through her medicine cabinet for her beloved bottle of Excedrin.
“Okay. Then let’s just call them.”
“We will,” she said.
“When?”
“Soon.” It was all that she could offer.
Rowan’s steady gaze trapped her. “Is it because I’m white?”
“What? Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Come on. You can tell me. I’m a big boy.”
“No.” She grabbed a Dixie cup and quickly filled it with water so she could down her precious two pills. “It’s not that.”
“But it’s something … right?”
Cornered, Corona prolonged swallowing her pills by holding them and the water in her cheeks longer than necessary.
When she didn’t respond, Rowan tossed up his hands. “Fine. Fine. I can take a hint. Believe it or not, I don’t need a brick building to fall on my head, you know. You don’t want to tell your parents right now. I’ll step back and respect that—but we’re going to have to tell them sooner or later.”
Corona sucked in a deep breath, but she didn’t answer him.
“All right. You know what? I’m going to head back to my place to study this script,” he said, turning around. “We begin shooting soon and I need to concentrate.”
Finally swallowing her pills, Corona followed him. “Whoa. Wait, Rowan. You don’t have to do that.”
“Actually, I do.” He completed his march over to the bed and started shoving his things into the leather duffle bag that he usually brought when there was a possibility of him being able to stay the night.
Corona sighed at having made a complete mess of this night. But, then again, didn’t this just fit the MO of how she generally screwed things up when it came to relationships? “Rowan—”
“I’ll call you tomorrow,” he said, blazing toward her and stopping briefly to peck a light kiss against the top of her head. That was definitely a sign that she’d screwed this evening up.
“Row—” She reached to stop him, but he was already halfway to the bedroom door and she was left grasping at air. “All right. Goodnight then.”
“‘Night.” He slipped out of the door and left her to listen to his heavy footsteps as they rushed down the staircase.
In the back of Corona’s mind, she had the fleeting desire to chase after him. But if she succeeded in doing that, what was she going to give as a better explanation as to why she wasn’t ready to introduce him to her family?
No, she wasn’t the only transplant from Georgia roaming the streets of Manhattan. But she was pretty sure that the other movers and shakers in the concrete jungle didn’t have fathers that proudly proclaimed winning the top prize in the Southern Select Show Pig Championship or chased the boyfriends they didn’t like with a shotgun and forced them to marry their daughters.
Call it a hunch.
Oh, she loved her parents. Really. She did.
She just loved them more when they remained in Thomason, Georgia. What was it they said? Absence makes the heart grow fonder? That was certainly the case with her and her family.
Hell, she’d forgotten to ask Rowan about her diaries—or accuse him of finding and reading them.
Riiiiiinnnng!
Corona jumped and then jerked her head toward the phone on the nightstand next to the bed. “Rowan.” Maybe he wasn’t so mad at her after all. A side of her lips quirked up. He might even be standing outside the building, wanting to say how much he hated how things had ended on a weird note between them tonight. After all, Rowan was a strong advocate of not going to bed angry.
The weight of the world lifted off her shoulders. She raced over to the phone and snatched it up with her apology cresting her lips before she even got the receiver to her ear. “Baby, I’m so sorry.”
“Well, it’s about time you admitted it!”
Her face twisted. “Who is this?”
“Damn. You don’t even recognize the voice of your little sister anymore?”
Corona slammed her eyes closed and groaned. “Tess.”
“Wow. What a way to make a girl feel special, Chloe,” her sister sniped. “What a ridiculous name. I’m calling you Corona. You were named after our grandmother, and you should be proud of that.”
“I am proud, it’s just … “
“Country. And country doesn’t work in the big city.”
“Can we please not argue about this?”
“Fine. I called to ask why I had to find out about your getting married to Mr. Action-Pack on that little thingy we call down here ‘the boob tube.’”
Corona’s heart sank. “You saw that?”
“As a matter of fact, I did. I watched it standing in the middle of Parker’s Gas Station with Daddy and … Lyfe Alton.”
“What?” Corona blinked and felt like she was being swept back into a time machine. What were the chances of Lyfe popping up on the same day that she had just been reading in her diary about their first time together?”
“Shocking, isn’t it?”
“To say the least,” Corona agreed. Her brain started churning out so many questions that she didn’t know which one to ask first. “What … why … how?”
“Exactly what I asked,” Tess said, picking up on her sister’s shorthand.
“Well, what did he say?”
“Not much. Really. Only that he was in town on sabbatical.”
Chloe nearly swallowed her tongue.
“Just imagine if you’d just come home for the holidays like I begged you. Who knows, maybe you two would’ve run into each other.”
She swallowed. “Like that would have been a good thing.” Still, she couldn’t stop herself from imagining what such a chance encounter would’ve been like. Awkward. Painful. Explosive.
“How long is he in town for?” Chloe asked, trying to sound casual.
“Don’t know. Didn’t ask.”
“You didn’t ask?” she said, shocked.
“Why do you say it like that?”
“Because I’ve never known you to miss an opportunity to get all up in someone else’s business,” Chloe answered honestly. “Never.”
“Well, we all were a little distracted with you and Rowan James trying to inhale each other’s faces on national television. Really. Next time, try just getting a room.”
“Ohmigod. Lyfe saw that?”
Tess clucked. “With you being in the industry, I figured that you knew how cameras worked. They broadcast to millions of people—even to ones who are just standing in a gas station.”
Corona felt like she might need to make another run to the bathroom.
“When exactly were you planning to tell us that you’re marrying a white boy?”
“Don’t say it like that. What difference does it make what color he is?”
“I don’t care what color he is, but people like a heads-up.”
“I know. I know. I’ll call them.”
“Uh-huh. Right,” Tess challenged. “Looks to me like you were planning to avoid the issue by doing what you always do, run away.”
“Not funny.”
“It wasn’t meant to be.”
“That’s not fair,” Chloe argued.
“But it is true.”
Silence.
“See? You may be good at running your little business up there.”
“Little?”
“But when it comes to family issues, you race out of the kitchen before the stove gets too hot. Talk to Daddy. It is waaaay past time for you two to settle y’all’s issues.”
“I know. I know.” And she did know. Things had never been the same between them since she had left Georgia the way she did. “I’ll talk to him. I promise.”
“I’ve heard that before,” Tess pressed.
“Okay. Is there another reason you called—other than to make me feel like crap?”
“Nope. I just wanted to check that off my to-do list.”
“Great. Fine. Consider it done.” She was tempted to slam the phone down, but she still had more questions about Lyfe that kept her from introducing Tess to Mr. Dial Tone.
“So. There’s nothing else you want to ask me?” Tess said, sounding like she knew exactly why her sister hadn’t slammed the phone down.
Silence.
“Say … anything about Lyfe Alton that you’re curious to know?”
“How … did he look? I mean—”
“Honey, let me tell you—that brother is sooooo freaking fine that the sheriff needs to be handing out tickets.” Tess roared to life. “I ain’t even lying. Tall as a mountain, muscle like POW! and POW! I mean, arms and thighs—but not like those gym muscleheads. I would give my right arm to drip some strawberry sauce all over Mr. Man’s body.”
“Have you forgotten just who in the hell you’re talking to?” Chloe snapped.
Tess cleared her throat. “Uhm … actually, yes.” Cough. “Sorry about that. But, Corona, I’m telling you. Out of the Alton six-pack, baby boy ain’t a baby no more.”
“Thanks.”
“I mean it. He’s—”
“I said thanks. I get it. He’s good looking. I kind of figured that much.”
“Can I have him?” Tess asked meekly.
“What?”
“Look, I know that there’s some unwritten rule about dating your sister’s exes. But hell. You don’t come around here no more anyway.”
“I’m about to hang up on you.”
“Is that a ‘no’?”
“Hell yes, it’s a ‘no,’” Corona thundered. If her sister was standing in front of her right now, she was certain that she would have wrapped her hands around the child’s neck and squeezed until she was the same color as a Smurf.
“Well, I don’t see what the big damn deal is. You’re about to get married and expand the family. Don’t you want to see me happy?”
“You so much as bat an eyelash at Lyfe, I’ll see you six feet under.”
“Ooh. Testy. Could it be that you’re not quite over your first love?”
“I’m hanging up now.”
“That’s all right. I know how to call back.”
“You’ll get the answering machine,” she warned. When in the hell is that Excedrin going to kick in?
“I’d imagine that if you really cared about Lyfe’s feelings that you probably wouldn’t have left him standing at the altar.”
