Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 86741 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86741 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
As I was coming down the stairs, I heard the doorbell ring, then checked my wristwatch. It wasn’t time yet, and Miley wasn’t the type to show early for anything. I headed for the door, checked the camera, and saw a young Black man on the other side with his head down.
I cracked the door open, and realized he was taller than I’d expected, and very familiar. He wore jeans and a black button-down shirt. His hair was cut low and wavy, his skin like brown suede.
“Hi. Dylan, right?” I asked when his eyes found mine. “What are you doing here?”
“Dylan!” Roland’s voice boomed through the hallway. I looked back and Roland was hustling down the steps. “He just got in town and I invited him over for dinner.” He opened the door wider. “That okay?”
“Yeah, of course it’s okay!” I looked from Roland to his cousin and smiled. “I remember you from the wedding! Come in!”
Roland had told me a lot about Dylan, and he was at the wedding but I really hadn’t shared more than a few sentences with him before we ran off to our hotel for the night and then to our honeymoon the next day.
They were cousins, but more like brothers. Their bond was special, and I’d only seen one photo of them together that Roland showed me, back when they were teenagers. Dylan was a man now, grown and mature, looking nothing like the boy in the photo.
Dylan had always believed that Roland would make it, when no one else did. He supported him, sent him text messages every game to wish him luck. He was a good cousin, from what I gathered, and I was partially elated that he was there that night because it meant Roland would cut the evening short to show Dylan around and hang out with him. Which also meant less time for him to be around my mooching sister.
Dylan walked into the house and as he did, he pulled a bouquet of roses and baby’s breath from behind his back and handed it to me. “I’m glad to know you’re still treating my cuz well,” he said, handing me the bouquet.
“Oh—wow. Thank you!” I took the flowers from him and he smiled down at me with perfect square teeth. “Yeah, he’s a handful, but he’s a great man.” I smiled up at Roland and he gave me a close-lipped smile and a wink.
“Come on, let me show you around while we wait for Mel’s sister.” Roland clapped Dylan on the back and walked deeper into the mansion with him. “How was your drive?” I heard him ask as they turned the corner.
As I was putting the flowers in a vase, the doorbell rang again and I froze, knowing exactly who was at the door this time.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Miley was in jean capris with rips in the thighs and fishnet stockings underneath. She also wore a black leather jacket with a red T-shirt underneath that said F*ck Everything.
She was not presentable, but this was to be expected from my sister. And as expected, Roland looked at her oddly when introduced to her, and then at me, as if he were wondering how the hell we could have ever been related. Despite how alike we looked, I could understand. My sister and I are polar opposites. We dress different, act different. Our tastes in food, hobbies, and even self-care are different.
Dinner wasn’t so bad to get through. Roland would ask a question and Miley would give a straight answer. Whenever Roland turned to ask Dylan something that was most likely golf related, Miley would look from her end of the table at me and smile, as if everything was going wonderfully. I’d smile back . . . but something told me things were going to get out of hand soon. If not that night, then eventually.
After dinner, Yadira brought out her infamous chocolate cake and we each ate a slice with a cup of espresso. We eventually moved to the den, where Roland had lit a fire. He and I sat side by side, while Dylan and Melanie took the stretched sofa opposite of us.
“So, you’re Roland’s cousin,” Miley said, side-eyeing Dylan.
Dylan smirked with a small cup of espresso in hand. “That I am.”
“Are you freeloading too?”
Dylan laughed at that and I fidgeted in my seat. Roland tightened his arm around me and I looked up. He was already looking down at me, giving me a look that said, “Everything’s fine. Stop worrying.”
I relaxed in my seat and had to take a sip from my wineglass to calm my nerves.
“I wouldn’t say freeloading, but . . .” Dylan turned his head quickly to look at me, as if a thought had just occurred to him. “Melanie, I already spoke to Roland about this, but he told me I had to confirm it with you.”