Page 54 of Tender Offer (Chance at Love #3)

Madison

“ T ouch that billfold, and you’ll hold your paintbrush in your mouth for the rest of your days.” I reach for the black pleather booklet and pull the check to me. My glower remains on my brown-eyed companion, who lifts a brow and the corner of his lips like I won’t stab his hand with my fork.

Our server waltzes to our table and takes my card, giggling under the lust-drunk spell of hooded eyes and a square jaw swimming in a goatee. “I’ll be right back, you two.”

The assumption I’m on a dinner date threatens my chicken and waffles to make a second appearance. I can’t go out with Joseph without someone thinking we’re together. It’s gross.

Joseph Catlett’s Nawlins charm plays across his vowels and the honey tips of his coiled hair with a fade he keeps as clean as the white tee that’s become his daily costume. He finally grew into his broad nose, and his once-twiggy body now carries muscles.

He’s handsome, but he’s also my first cousin.

The man of the evening lifts his hands and tosses his napkin on the table. “You got it.”

“Just remember me when they hang your paintings in museums. I expect a VIP ticket.” I smile. “I’m proud of you, Seph.”

“Appreciate you, Maddie.”

My cousin is a man of few words, but he translates empty canvases into love letters. He’s a phenomenal painter whose work is in galleries in DC, where he lives, Miami, his hometown New Orleans, and now Harlem. It’s been months since we’ve seen each other, which makes tonight my treat.

We’re in a cocktail bar, catching each other up on life, our careers, and our nonexistent relationships. He’s three years post-divorce, and I’m—

I don’t know what I am.

Confused.

Frustrated.

Mourning?

With all my recent styling gigs, the days are longer, but not long enough to reach the depths of the void of not having Preston in my life.

“You should call him.” Joseph’s voice lulls me out of the regret that’s holding me hostage.

It’s the same command Kojo declared. Joseph’s small smile is the one he’d offer when I scraped my knees trying to follow him and his friends around the ward on my bike.

Joseph is five years older and more like a big brother than a cousin.

“Did you forget the part where he’s having a child with another woman?”

“A woman he keeps leaving to chase you around, Maddie. How many cities did Preston magically appear in?”

I look away. “Two. Atlanta and Miami.” I’ve been waiting for him to pop out of the bushes here in New York, but it hasn’t happened.

“He needs to focus on his daughter,” I defend.

“And he will,” Joseph says. “From what you’ve told me, he doesn’t seem like the kind of man to abandon his responsibilities. His daughter won’t stop him from proving the place you hold in his life. Call him.”

“I’m afraid, Seph. I get hurt every time I allow myself to get close.”

He reaches across the small table and takes my hand. “If you give up now, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life. Don’t be like me. Love hard and don’t let go.”

Joseph is Uncle Remy’s son. They both translate their emotions into art—painting for Seph and jazz for mama’s brother.

Seph doesn’t talk much about his divorce from Morgan, but he doesn’t have to.

The pain of losing her is a reality he carries daily co-parenting their son, Duke.

It’s been three years, and the longing hasn’t faded from his art.

I catch him staring off into the distance to relive memories of happier times with her.

Neither of them has moved on. One day, I hope they’ll find their way back to each other.

“You should take your own advice,” I say. “I know you love her.”

“Never stopped.” A heaviness tightens his chest and rests in his sigh. The lump he tries to swallow lingers in his throat. “Too much time has passed us by. We can’t regain what we lost. For now, I live in the joy of raising our son.”

“Duke is the best,” I say.

Joseph returns my smile. “That he is.”

Nightfall comes for dusk on a balmy breeze. Today’s humidity didn’t wring my curls, which are resting in a high bun. Summers in New York are nothing to play with.

I peek at my phone before tucking it into my purse. I texted Preston earlier today, then I took Joseph’s advice and worked up the courage to dial the number I memorized by heart. He hasn’t responded. Not that I’d expect him to, given the day.

Today is his birthday and the anniversary of his mother’s death.

My platform heels balance on wide stone pavers as I make my way over to the fountain with lily pads.

The garden looks different, dressed in layers of tulips blooming around manicured hedges.

I set the bouquet of white lilies on the bench Preston engraved for his mother and brush pollen from the weathered wood.

“For you,” I say to the silver inscription winking in the streetlight.

It felt right to come here tonight. I wanted to be close to Preston and feel him here with the love he declared for all to see. It’s a place I frequent when our distance weighs heavy. I love him, and I’m struggling with how to live without him.

I reach for the cupcake in a cardboard to-go box. It’s French vanilla with buttercream frosting. “Happy birthday, baby,” I whisper. “Make a wish wherever you are.”

“It already came true,” a deep timbre murmurs behind me.

A soft gasp escapes me, and a quiver surges through my veins, which slice open under his gaze blurred with tears. He’s kept his distance whenever we were in the same city, but he’s here now. My heart skips, pushing one foot in front of the other until I’m running.

I wrap my hands around his neck, careful not to smear icing across the nape. “I missed you,” I weep, inhaling the scent of his musk. My lashes dampen at his chin on my head and his grip tightening around my waist.

Preston’s hands explore the hollow of my back until they lift to wipe away my tears. He cups my face in awe before the smooth surface of his lips meets mine. Our tongues brush, igniting a fire no distance nor person could extinguish.

He slips his hands up my arms to bring me closer. “I can’t live without you, Puff.” His lips tremble through another kiss.

“I’m sorry for leaving. I couldn’t—”

“Never apologize for taking care of yourself. I understood. It hurt, but I understood.” Preston’s eyes shift from me to his mother’s bench.

“I wanted to honor her today.”

“Thank you. This is the first birthday I don’t feel hollow inside.” His words are a broken whisper. “God, I missed you.”

The kisses he presses to my face are an elixir on my skin, smoothing fresh wounds with assurances we’ll be okay.

We have to be, because life won’t allow us to be apart.

No matter the years or miles, we always find our way back to each other.

Standing here in his arms, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

“There’s something I need to tell you.”

“So help me if there’s another woman having your baby, Preston,” I grit.

“The baby isn’t mine,” he says.

“Which one?”

His brows knit. “There was only one, and she’s not mine.”

“What?” My head draws back, and my mouth opens.

“It’s my father’s.” I blink as my brain stumbles to catch up. Did he just say his daddy? “I found out a few days ago. I wanted to tell you in person, but first I had to wrap up a transfer for William to become interim CEO.”

“Bellamy is having your sister?” I ask, to make sure I heard correctly. “And she tried to pin the baby on you?”

Preston shakes his head. “According to her, no. She heard me talking about you after the retreat and found comfort in my father.” He grimaces.

“William’s mother—”

“Is seeking a divorce,” he says. “Her solicitors already received an anonymous tip that should help with the prenup.”

“Bellamy is having your daddy’s baby?” I repeat, at a loss to form new words.

Kojo clocked it. This is a Tubi movie.

“Please tell me the paternity test doubles as a letter of resignation.” I know my limits, and being the bigger person past a certain point is not one of them. Little Miss Tried It can take her womb and her handbags and go.

“Did you not hear me say that William is interim CEO?” Preston’s eyes light with a twinkle of mischief, as if unemployment doesn’t bother him. Maybe it doesn’t. He does have access to billions, after all.

“I want you, Madison. A fresh start with just the two of us.”

“I’d like that.” I smile. “How do you feel about stepping down?”

“Like I can breathe.” He kisses my lips. “Now that I have full control over my family trust, I can make the changes I want from anywhere in the world.” He laughs when my brows hike up to my forehead. “A lot happened this past week. I found a clause in the trust when I was here—”

“You were in New York?”

His smile dissolves. “For days,” he emphasizes to prove his point. “I stopped by your flat and left messages with the grumpy front-desk attendant with the combover.”

“Gerald never gave them to me. But he mentioned a possible stalker who kept coming to the building. Almost called the police.”

Preston huffs. “Prick. I may have stopped by a few times.” His grin spreads at my smile. “Two or three times a day, when I walked your neighborhood with William and Dayo.”

“You didn’t.”

“And did.” I snort at his animated attempt to mock Kojo. He interlaces our fingers, all signs of laughter erased from his face. “I’ll always come for you, Puff. I love you.”

“I love you too.” Our kiss lingers until I remember the cupcake softening in my hand. “This is for you. I don’t have a candle, but you should make a wish.”

Cognac eyes slide over me with a softness he pairs with a forehead kiss. “I told you, it already came true. I have everything I need.”

“Almost,” I say to the frown lines on his forehead. “I accept your tender offer.” My squeal at my heels leaving the ground scares the birds out of the trees.

Preston picks me up like I’m weightless and crushes me into his polo shirt. I wrap my legs around the waist of his jeans and settle in the adoration of his gaze.

“Do you mean it?”

“ Ti amerò fino al giorno dopo per sempre ,” I repeat after weeks of practice when missing him became too much.

His grin is wild and free. “I will love you until the day after forever.”