“Cherisse, no. I swear to you, I would never. Sean and his publicist literally ambushed me the day after the fight and told me this is how it was gonna be. How we’d spin it. I was against it totally, but I had to consider the artiste, Sheila. She didn’t deserve to get caught up in Sean and I’s mess, so I went with it. I’ve been trying to tell you, but...” What excuse could her really give?

Cherisse folded her arms, a hand squeezing at her bicep. “How long have you and Sean been working together?”

“Don’t say it like that. There wasn’t some nefarious plan like you’re making it sound. I didn’t...”

“How long?”

“I got called into the meeting and given the edict the same day we were to meet up for our first planning session. It’s why I ran late,” he admitted.

Cherisse’s jaw clenched, and the hand squeezed tighter. If she wanted to slap him, punch him, he’d accept it all. “That was weeks ago.”

“I know. It’s just we didn’t exactly care for each other then, so I figured—”

“That Cherisse was smart,” she cut him off. “I wonder where she went.” Her laugh was bitter as hell, and Remi, who’d remained silent next to her the entire time, placed her hand on Cherisse’s shoulder but continued to say nothing because she trusted Cherisse to handle her shit. While he hadn’t, he realized. He’d used all those damn excuses, telling himself he was protecting her when he’d been trying to stop this very moment. Trying to not have Cherisse look at him like this. Like she didn’t know who the hell he truly was.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to be upset.”

“Well, I’m fucking upset!” She unfolded her arms and drew closer, lowered her voice. “How fucking dare you try to manage my emotions for me? That’s not how this is supposed to work. You tell me and allow me to feel whatever, not try to protect me from it because of some misguided notion. I get to decide how I react to shit. Not you.”

“You’re right. I screwed up. Again.”

“Actions, Keiran. Speak so much louder. How many times are you going to say sorry before the word means nothing? You should go. I need to think.”

He nodded. “Okay.”

The masochistic part of him clung to her last words. If she needed to think, that meant there was hope she’d forgive him, right?

“And Keiran? Consider this a ‘don’t call us, we’ll call you’ situation.”

Well, then. That message was received loud and clear.

#

CHERISSE

“Fuck!”

Aunt Lucia, who stood nearby, looked scandalized as Cherisse grabbed a bunch of napkins to clean up the mess of her spilled drink. It was either cry or curse. The cursing seemed like the better option because she refused to cry. It was her birthday, and she could cry if she wanted to, but dammit, she would not.