Chapter 47
Justice
Ten days ago, Brody MacKenzie walked out of my life. At every turn, my eyes play tricks on me. In the time it had taken for Brody to catch me in his trap, I had sifted through more emotions because of him than I ever had in the past, not just including the last half decade. He had wreaked havoc on my soul. Still, one question continues to haunt me; had I taken it too far?
Brody invades my dreams and my reality, too. Each night I work late at Michie’s, he’s parked within walking distance. He doesn’t get out of his Silverado as I head straight for my Honda. Our unspoken routine includes Brody following my car home and continuing right after I’ve opened the door and gotten into the house.
Today, at Leith and Chevelle’s home, FedEx constantly knocks on the door, dropping off a custom-made sofa or a new espresso machine. Each time, I persuade myself not to feel disappointed when it’s not him.
Erika’s grunt rouses my attention. The all-white kitchen with waterfall marble fades into my view.
“I’ll be glad to get up from this godforsaken seat.” Erika pounds the side of her fist on the wheelchair.
“How’s the physical therapy?” Chevelle asks in a kindhearted tone.
“You have an appointment Thursday, right?” I ask, playing with a frayed bit of stitching in my magnetic purple yoga top. I wear matching stretchy pants.
Edward removes his glasses from the tip of his nose, looking up from a stack of papers.
“Aye,” she nods. “I’ll be walking in enough time to ring in the weekend.”
“For the engagement party.”
“Justice,” Chevelle chides.
“I have tickets.” Erika places up a hand. “Midnight Gods are in town. I was gonna sell the tickets for two grand a pop if I had to wheel my arse into the arena Saturday night.”
“But the engagement party is Friday,” I blurt out. Why did I mention it? Erika’s been extremely open about her lack of feelings for Brody and her father’s imposing nature. Yet I never nibble. Never comment on it.
“Ladies.” Edward stands, smoothing down the lapel of his slate-gray suit. His focus and keen eye for business have been a blessing for pre-promotional efforts. With the shift in discussion, he’s leaving. He left the other day when our chatter transitioned from one of Chevelle’s caramel brews to a caramel delight of an actor we all had the hots for. “I’ll reach out to Nan. Let her know we’d like to buy the Venice Beach location.”
Chevelle hooks a thumb over her shoulder. “I’m going to . . . walk Edward out.”
“She left us on purpose,” I mutter. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”
Erika takes a pull from an orange blossom draft that will debut at Mia’s Place. “You miss Brody. That’s fine.”
I’m starting to understand why Chevelle and Erika rubbed each other the wrong way. The redhead is blunt. “You’ve sent him to my job to make sure I got home safe.”
She wheels her chair around, dancing solo. “How’d you know it was me? Chevelle. She runs her mouth lots.”
“Not to Brody,” I retort. “Also, you’ve asked me repeatedly about my schedule. Why it keeps changing?”
Erika tips up until the wheelchair tilts backward. A silly smile graces her face. “All those pain meds. Everything keeps slipping my mind. So, he followed you home.”
“Um hmm, pain meds and beer. But yes, from a distance. He’s done so the past week.”
With a frown, Erika drops the wheelchair back into an upright position. “Nae talk or anything?”
I come around the island, lean my ass against it and fold my arms. “Why are you condoning another woman to have a relationship with your fiancé?”
Her head tilts. Erika regards me flatly. “See a ring on my finger?”
“Stop answering my question with a question.”
“Whatcha gonna do ‘bout it?” Her chin juts.
“Stop it.” I wag a finger at her. Try as I might, I can’t hold it in, and I burst into laughter.