How were they supposed to heal as a family ifno one talked? The times he tried, his father told him to grow up.Life was tough and he couldn’t wallow. Following the mostinfluential man in his life, he complied, but as the years passedit got tougher to hold his emotions inside.
There was a time he had someone he could talkto. He blinked and stood from his seat. “I’ll be there. Anythingelse?”
His father motioned for him to leave. Lancedidn’t linger. He’d been dismissed, so he walked back to hisoffice. He didn’t have time to unplug before the board meeting, sohe left his office again and headed down the carpeted hallway. Hewas first to arrive entering the room, so he took his seat.
Clearing his throat, he focused on hispapers. The memories lingered like an unloved guest. The peace heexperienced when he and Chantelle were together compared to nothinghe had ever felt before. She listened to him when his parents weretoo busy keeping up appearances. He’d never forget the first fewdays after Amelia’s funeral. He had skipped lunch at school andescaped to the basketball court.
Sitting by himself on a bleacher, he hadstared into space. His muscles had felt weak and exhausted from theweekend. The tightness in his chest would not loosen. Then he sawChantelle climbing the steps. Her angelic face glowed in thefluorescent lighting. Lance had not said a word, but sat slouchedback against the concrete wall.
“I came to check on you,” she had said.
He bobbed his head, at a loss for words. Ifhe spoke, he would break down and cry. He couldn’t cry. He had tobe strong.
“Lance?” Chantelle had coaxed.
He didn’t respond, but only stared back ather.
She nodded and turned to leave, and that’swhen he shifted in his seat.
“Stay, Chantelle,” he had said. “Please?”
She gave half a smile and took a seat next tohim. Then she laced his fingers with hers and rested her head onhis shoulder. Lance shut his eyes, losing himself in herwarmth.
They had been friends, but being that closeto her, his hypersensitivity to her touch increased. The curls inher hair tickled his cheek. Her soft hand fit in his. He leaned incloser, dropping his mouth to hers. He wasn’t sure if she liked himback, but her breath hitched.
Lance didn’t hold back. He kissed her. Shedidn’t respond at first, but then he felt her hand touch his cheek.He drew her in closer. His hunger for her increased, and her desirefor him showed as her lips covered his. Lance’s heart had raced. Hewanted her. He needed her, especially now.
Chantelle then pressed her hands into hischest. He broke the kiss, not wanting to pressure her. It was thelast thing he wanted. She only stared back at him. Her eyes glossedover.
Lance took her hands in his. “Meet me later.Tonight?”
Her lips parted. Chantelle had nodded.
“Lance?” his father said, interrupting histhoughts.
“Yes.” His eyes widened to see more employeesoccupy the seats in the boardroom. He cleared his throat andstraightened his tie.
“We’re waiting on your input.” His father’shands rested on the rectangular table, laced together. The glare ofthe sun shined through the window into his eyes. It onlyintensified his apparent annoyance.
“Right.” He needed to refocus. What were theytalking about again?
“The Wilkes account, Lance. We’re waiting onyou to update the rest of the board on the Wilkes account.” Hisfather reminded him.
“Yes, the account.” He ignored the tinglethat swept down his spine.
***
Curtain framed windows let in natural light.Chantelle laced her fingers together, sitting on the couch inLance’s home. Her trusty recorder sat on the coffee table as shewaited for him. Dottie said he was on an important call and wouldjoin her in the living room as soon as he could.
His shelves held books along with pictureframes. She smelled the food Dottie must have been cooking in thekitchen. Chantelle relaxed in the soft cushion. So far, sogood.
She crossed her legs. Not much sleep thenight before, but she was feeling better with no signs of a cold.Though she had a slight chill, her mother cleared her to leave thehouse. No matter how old she got, Chantelle’s mother would alwaystake care of her.
Lance entered the room. “Sorry about thewait.” He typed away on his cell phone.
His look was pleasant this time. Her stomachhardened at the thought of working with Lance, but nothing wouldstand in her way. Chantelle had to prove she could pull this off.Mostly to herself.
Brushing her hair behind her ears only madeher skin tingle more. Only one man made her feel beautiful on theinside. Like wasted hours of youth, she wouldn’t focus on theirhistory. In the last ten years, she told herself, they did theright thing. At eighteen, it felt like the end of the world. If shedidn’t think about it, Chantelle could pretend it never happened.Too bad it did.
Instead, she forced a smile. “It’s okay. I’msure it was important.”
He sat on the love seat across from her.Lance’s beard brought definition to his chiseled face. His brightsmile always made her heart palpitate. Blinking away the notion,she grabbed her recorder.
“Are you ready?” She asked.
“Seems like such a fuss for one day.” Hetoyed with his cuff links.
“You’re not excited about getting married?”The word left a stale taste in her mouth, but she pressed on.
“I don’t mind getting married, but all thisfancy stuff is unnecessary. Who’ll remember the cake or thedecorations?”
“It’s a celebration of your love with Andrea.Would you rather get married at a courthouse?” Did she just saythat out loud? If she wasn’t careful, this interview wouldspiral—fast.
He narrowed his eyes at her. “It would bebetter for me. We can avoid all of this.”
Her finger itched above the record button. Hewasn’t getting personal this soon, was he? No way. Surely he knewnot to cross the line. They never discussed it, so Chantelle hopedthey wouldn’t now. Licking her lips, she cradled the recorder inher hand. “Off the record?” She leaned in closer
