that I was no longer his.
“I meant everything I said earlier, you know,” he mumbled.
I simply squeezed his arm, letting him know I felt something, too, but now wasn’t the time. When we reached the altar, I gave Chyna a warning look. She kept herself in line, and the wedding went off without a hitch. Eden was a beautiful bride. The tears she and Dion shed at the altar made it clear they were a match. I only hoped it was one made in heaven.
Near the end of the ceremony, the bride and groom had their attendants surround them in prayer. I did hope that for their sakes, God would bless their union forever. Though I was happy for Eden, I was worried about Dion’s drinking. I just wanted the best for her.
The bridal party was shuttled to the reception in limos. Eden’s mom had elegant taste and it showed in the lovely, upscale Beaux Twenty Club dining room she chose for the reception. There were about one hundred round tables, each with two white silk tablecloths layered one on top of the other. The ten chairs at every table were also covered in white silk, and the floral arrangements and candles created a scene out of the pages of Southern Homes & Gardens.
“I love you, Christian,” Eden said to me as we stood near the band. “You’ve been a great maid of honor.”
“Yeah, right.” I chuckled. “I didn’t even make it to the bridal shower.”
“But you helped out so much over the phone, especially with your advice about how to handle all the pressure. Nothing’s stealing my joy.” However, she looked away as if her joy was stolen.
I grabbed the hand she wasn’t using to hold her bouquet. “Tell me what’s got you upset. You know you can handle the honeymoon, girl.” I tried to lighten her mood.
She gave me a big hug and and I felt her shaking. What was my best friend not saying? What didn’t I know? As she squeezed my shoulder, I sensed a bit of fear.
“What’s the matter?”
She let go and shrugged. “Don’t worry about me. I can handle it.”
The wedding coordinator called, “Mr. and Mrs. Jones—to the floor, please. It’s time to throw the bouquet and garter.”
Eden turned to oblige the request. Before she could walk away, I got beside her and escorted her across the room. She wasn’t going to hint that Dion was beating her and then act as if she’d never said a word.
“Wait—is he abusive?” I asked.
“No,” she said unconvincingly, holding back tears. “Everything is fine.”
As quickly as she opened up, she shut down. Eden went over to her new husband, and he attentively helped her sit in her chair. I watched Dion’s every movement, trying to see what was really up with him. Realizing he was on his best behavior in front of the crowd, I only hoped Eden wasn’t in danger, that whatever the situation was, it wasn’t what I was imagining.
As the reception got into full swing, I filled a plate from the buffet of chicken wings, shrimp cocktail, and dinner rolls, grabbed a glass of red punch, and found an empty table in a back corner where I could watch the other guests.
Within a few minutes, Max approached my table. “So, you didn’t try to catch the bouquet?”
“Not today,” I teased, motioning for him to sit.
He nodded and took the chair beside me. “So can we at least go out after this and really get the party started?” His eyes smiled into mine.
“I don’t think so,” I said, popping a shrimp into my mouth.
“Come on, say yes,” he said as he ran his hand up my back.
I took a sip of punch, keeping my focus on everything but him. He was making something in me respond to all the attention. From the corner of my eye, I noticed he was checking me out. I scooted my chair away from him.
He leaned back. “Okay, I get the hint.” He reached in his wallet and gave me one of his business cards. “I know you’re real busy with your job and all, but next time you come through New York, call me and at least let me take you to dinner.”
“Why, Max?”
“I’ve been telling you why since this morning.” He placed his hand close to mine on the table. “One day I’m gonna get you back, my lady.” He moved his hand enough to touch my fingers.
That was my cue to leave. I couldn’t let Max back in. By the time I got to my hotel room, I had resolved not to waste another minute of my time thinking about Max Cross. Instead, I focused on my new assignment.
I headed to my mom’s house as soon as I got back in town from the wedding. I loved November in D.C. The leaves were a myriad of reds, browns, yellows, and oranges. There was a slight chill in the air and sometimes a few snowflakes would fall from the sky. It looked like one of the paintings in the living room of my mother’s house.
It was nice to be going home, and I was all the more relieved to know I wasn’t pregnant. I’d taken a test the night before leaving Texas—I was still wondering why my cycle hadn’t come yet. I hoped I hadn’t taken the test too soon.
When I entered my mother’s newly renovated, two-bedroom home, I knew my mom wasn’t home. Her car wasn’t in the drive. There was, however, a black low rider parked outside. My fifteen-year-old sister was supposed to be at school, but when I heard moans coming from her bedroom door, I knew she wasn’t where she was supposed to be. I immediately threw my purse and keys down on the leather chair in the nearby living room.
After pounding on the door, I roared, “Crystal—girl, get out here!”
I heard low voices and scrambling. After several minutes, Crystal swung open the door, her hot-pink miniskirt and tight black tank top twisted and wrinkled. As she straightened her clothes and smoothed out her straight brown hair, I glanced past her and noticed a guy sprawled out on her twin bed, fastening his pants.
“What do you want?” my sister asked anxiously.
“Crystal, what do you think you’re doing? And who is that man lying on your bed?”
“That man you’re referring to is my boyfriend. What’s it to you?” She was standing with her arms folded across her chest, a look on her face I couldn’t name.
When I remained slightly shocked, she slammed the door in my face. I couldn’t believe this. Once again, I beat my fists on her bedroom door.
“Crystal, you open up this door right now!” And she did.
“I’m busy, Chris!” Crystal said.
I grabbed her arm and pulled her forcefully out of her bedroom. I was about to let her have it.
“Crystal, you better act like you know better! How dare you skip school! You’re supposed to be doing your school-work, but instead, you’re here in the house, laid up with some guy—who, by the way, looks too old for you! Didn’t we teach you better? How old is that guy, anyway?”
“Man, none of your—”
“Crystal!”
