Best She Ever Had (9781617733963) Read online

  “It’s a long story, honey, and an old story, at that. Trust me. You don’t want me to get into it.” His gaze shifted from Clarissa to Jared and back again. “Just know that your secret is safe with me, but . . .” He held up his index finger. “At some point, you guys will have to tell her. You two can’t keep sneaking around like this. Cynthia is going to find out, and when she does, knowing her, she’s going to be royally pissed off.”

  Jared protectively wrapped an arm around Clarissa’s shoulder. “We will, Pops. We will. We’re just . . . you know . . . waiting for the right time.”

  “Uh-huh?” Korey said, cocking an eyebrow. “Just make sure you don’t wait too much longer.”

  “We won’t,” Clarissa whispered.

  Korey nodded. “All right, I’ve said what I had to say. Enough preaching. You guys head out now before you miss your movie. Enjoy your date and be safe. And, uh . . . Jared, I expect you back by midnight.”

  Jared squinted. “Midnight?”

  “Yes, midnight,” Korey said with a firm nod.

  The kids left a few minutes later. When they did, Korey slumped against the kitchen counter again.

  How had this happened? How had the past repeated itself?

  He had hoped that Jared’s first love would turn out better than his had turned out twenty years ago, but it didn’t look like that was going to be the case. Korey could see it now. If his son’s relationship was anything like Korey and Cynthia’s, Jared was in for a world of heartbreak.

  Chapter 4

  “Cynthia? Cynthia? Can you pass the croissants?”

  Cynthia grabbed the basket in front of her and held it to her right. Someone took it out of her hand, though she didn’t know who. She was too distracted to pay attention.

  Today was Saturday brunch at her mother’s mansion, a family tradition that had lasted as long as Cynthia could remember. Everyone had been invited. Cynthia’s sisters—Lauren, Dawn, and Stephanie—had brought along their families and significant others. Cynthia had planned to do the same, but Clarissa said she already had plans.

  Clarissa’s refusal to come today had started Cynthia on a sour mood that she hadn’t been able to shake all morning. That bad mood was still firmly in place now.

  She gazed with contempt at Crisanto, her brother-in-law; Keith, her sister Stephanie’s fiancé; and her sister Dawn’s man, Xavier. The men’s wide shoulders took up more than their share of space at the table, nudging aside everyone around them. Their deep voices boomed louder than everyone else’s in the sunroom as they laughed and joked. The smell of their colognes and aftershaves made her nose burn.

  Interlopers, Cynthia thought as she chewed her toast. Judases, she thought when her eyes shifted to her sisters.

  Lauren sat with her baby, Crisanto Jr., on her lap, trying to convince him to “be a big boy like your daddy” and eat a spoonful of applesauce.

  Stephanie sat to Cynthia’s right and was playing with her daughter Zoe, whom her fiancé, Keith, held in his lap. She’d tickle the infant’s chin or make funny faces, causing Zoe’s nut-brown face to light up with delight at her mother’s games.

  Dawn sat to Cynthia’s left, holding hands underneath the table with Xavier. They stared into each other’s eyes, whispering some conversation no one else at the table could hear. He slowly lowered his mouth to hers and they shared a passionate kiss.

  Oh, please, Cynthia thought. Get a damn room!

  Cynthia shoved her scrambled eggs around her plate with her fork, having officially lost her appetite. All this “love and happiness” crap was making her ill. She couldn’t get away from it! She wanted to tell her sisters and her mother about her run-in with the six-foot looker a few days ago, but she couldn’t do that with Cris, Keith, and Xavier sitting at the table. She could never have a conversation like that in front of bunch of men. So instead she stewed silently.

  She just wished things would go back to way they were, back to when it was just her, her sisters, and her mother. They could enjoy Saturday brunch—no male interlopers included. They’d gossip about the rich men they were dating and planning to marry. It would be their own little Eden, with Yolanda’s lush garden in the background and the sun shining through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

  But it wasn’t a gold-digging Eden anymore. The Gibbons girls were no longer plotting about men. With the exception of Cynthia, they were all happily in serious relationships. She wished she could wave a magic wand and make the three men disappear. She was so much more content when they weren’t around.

  “Excuse me! Excuse me, folks!” Lauren said as she pushed back her chair and rose to her feet. “We have an announcement to make!”

  Dawn groaned. “Oh, Lord! Please don’t tell us you’re pregnant again too!” She then made a big production of pushing her glass away from her, sliding it across the chenille tablecloth. “I’m starting to think there is something in the water around here.”

  Her boyfriend, Xavier, grinned as he slid the glass back in front her. “Then you, sweetheart, need to drink more water.”

  Dawn made a face before slapping his thigh. He leaned over and kissed the nape of her neck, causing Cynthia to resist the urge to roll her eyes heavenward.

  Though Dawn was thirty-eight years old and had expressed no serious interest in having children, that didn’t stop her younger lover from constantly hinting that they would make great parents together. Cynthia gave it until next year before Dawn finally caved and ended up pregnant like the rest of them. Dawn, who had once been as much an anti-love stalwart as Cynthia, now seemed to cave to whatever her man wanted.

  “No, I’m not pregnant!” Lauren said, followed by the eruption of more laughter at the table. The petite woman clapped her hands. “I wanted to announce that my wonderful, handsome husband is running for mayor of Chesterton!”

  Cris waved as several of the brunch guests broke into applause.

  While everyone else offered their congratulations and encouragement, literally patting Cris on the back, Cynthia stayed silent. He was running for office . . . in Chesterton? Sure, Cris was “Mr. Popular” in their fair little hamlet. At local events, people tripped over themselves to shake the hand of the former NFL star whose face had been plastered on cereal boxes and magazine shoe ads years ago. But Cris was married to Lauren, a Gibbons girl! Lauren and the rest of the family had a notorious reputation around Chesterton. Hell, they had kept tongues wagging about their gold-digging exploits for decades! Most of the women in town barely tolerated them. Cynthia doubted that many people would be happy with the idea that one of the hated Gibbons sisters could end up being the mayor’s wife. She wondered if Cris realistically considered that before running for office.

  “What’s wrong, Cindy?” Yolanda asked, narrowing her dark eyes with concern as she pushed her chair back from the table. “You didn’t eat a thing, honey? Is everything all right?”

  Cynthia looked up from her plate. She hadn’t noticed everyone rising from the table. Their chairs scraped on the ceramic tile as they stood. She guessed Saturday brunch was officially over for the day. What a bust!

  “I wasn’t very hungry.” Cynthia tossed her napkin aside and stood. She watched as the men strolled toward the sunroom’s entrance. They huddled near the doorway, talking about the mayoral election.

  “Yeah, what’s been up with you?” Lauren asked. “You’ve been kind of a sourpuss lately.”

  “Since when did you start using cheesy-ass words like ‘sourpuss?’ ” Cynthia asked.

  Lauren glanced at her son, who was being held by his father. “Since I figured out little ears are like tape recorders. Cris Jr. is starting to babble, and we don’t want his first few words to be of the four-letter variety, so the only thing that’ll come out of my mouth these days are words like ‘poopie,’ ‘darn,’ and ‘sourpuss.’ ”

  “I know what’ll cheer you up, Cindy! Hold her, please!” Stephanie handed Zoe to Cynthia, who scooped her infant niece into her arms. The taffeta of Zoe’s pink dress lifted, reve
aling her lace-covered bloomers underneath. Zoe’s big brown eyes widened. She reached up and grabbed a blond lock of Cynthia’s hair, making her aunt grimace.

  “I got pictures from my first sonogram a few days ago,” Stephanie said with a grin. She dug through her leather hobo bag, pulling out her wallet, a bottle of styling spritz, a pacifier, and a baby brush. “Damn it, I know it’s in here somewhere!”

  “I still can’t believe you’re pregnant again, girl,” Dawn said. “You just had a baby three months ago! Who knew you’d be so fertile?”

  “It’s not her; it’s him,” Cynthia said with a curl in her lip as she pushed her hair over her shoulder and out of the reach of Zoe’s little fingers. “Don’t you know the rule, Dawn? The less money a man makes, the more children he’ll have.”

  Stephanie paused from digging through her purse. She stared at Cynthia. “What does that mean?”

  “What do you think it means? By marrying a guy who makes a pittance, you’ve basically doomed yourself to being forever broke, barefoot, and pregnant,” Cynthia snarled.

  Stephanie’s hands went to her hips. “First of all, we’re not broke! Keith doesn’t make a ‘pittance’! No, he’s not a millionaire, but he earns a decent living doing private investigative work. Second, I would never, ever walk around barefoot. I am and always will be a stilettos girl.” To demonstrate that fact, she pointed down proudly to her Louboutin shoes.

  “Please, sweetheart.” Cynthia snorted. “It’s a slow slide downhill. Just give it time. It’s already started. You promised that you would never be bigger than a size six. Now look at you!”

  All the women breathed in audibly in shock at Cynthia’s words.

  “Oh, no, she didn’t!” Dawn exclaimed.

  Stephanie’s chin shook and her eyes watered. “Give me back my child!” she shouted, yanking Zoe out of Cynthia’s arms. “You don’t deserve to hold her, you . . . you evil . . . man-hating . . . bitch!”

  “Now, girls,” Yolanda said slowly, “there’s no need for this. We had a lovely brunch. Please don’t fight.”

  “No, I can’t fit into a size six anymore!” Stephanie continued to shout. Tears spilled from her blazing eyes. “But that’s because I . . . I haven’t lost the baby weight yet! I had just started the Mediterranean Diet and my pole-dancing classes when I found out I was pregnant again! You . . . you think I enjoy being this big?” she asked, pointing down at her wide hips and large breasts as she wept. Zoe was crying too now. “You think I like having a butt that jiggles like Jell-O? You don’t think I feel bigger than the Love Boat?”

  “What the hell is going on here?” Keith asked as he walked toward them. The handsome, mahogany-hued man gazed at his fiancée with worry. “Baby, what happened? Why are you crying?”

  “Let’s go home,” she muttered, wiping away her tears with her back of her hand. “I don’t wanna be here anymore.”

  “Steph,” Lauren said, reaching for her sister, “please don’t go. Cynthia didn’t mean it.”

  “Oh, yes, she did!” Stephanie waved Lauren away and stomped toward the sunroom’s entrance with her weeping baby in tow. “The next time you call me, Cynthia Gibbons, it better be with a damn apology!”

  Keith looked around the room and waved. “It was, uh . . . nice seeing . . . umm, everybody again.” He then turned and followed his fiancée.

  “Nice going, big sis,” Lauren muttered.

  Cynthia crossed her arms over her chest and gritted her teeth.

  Great, once again she was the bad guy for stating the obvious. Stephanie had gotten fatter—by more than thirty pounds. Cynthia didn’t feel bad for pointing out the reason Stephanie had gained so much weight: namely, the baby-maker known as Keith Hendricks. Okay, maybe she felt just a little bit guilty. She bit down on her lower lip, recalling Stephanie’s tear-filled tirade.

  Fine, Cynthia thought. She would give Stephanie a call later today and apologize.

  The rest of the family went home soon after that. Lauren left with Cris and Cris Jr. in tow. Dawn left fifteen minutes later with Xavier. From the steamy gazes they were giving each other, Cynthia figured they would return to Dawn’s apartment and finish doing what they couldn’t do at the brunch table.

  Cynthia stood on the steps of her mother’s mansion, watching as Dawn’s Mercedes-Benz convertible pulled out of the driveway and disappeared around the bend.

  “Need to talk?” Yolanda asked.

  Cynthia turned to find her mother standing in the doorway. The older woman raised a finely arched brow and tilted her perfectly coifed head. She was wearing one of her Chanel ensembles today. She always looked so regal, so self-possessed. Cynthia had always wanted to be like her mother.

  “I figured something was on your mind,” Yolanda said, waving her back inside. “Something has to be bothering you to explain your behavior today.”

  Cynthia walked up the brick steps and through the French doors. Her mother shut them behind her and wrapped an arm around Cynthia’s shoulders.

  “I just don’t understand why everything has changed so much, Mama,” she said as they slowly strolled through the foyer and into one of her mother’s sitting rooms. Cynthia sat on the Queen Anne sofa. She gazed at the fireplace mantel.

  “It used to be just us—the Gibbons girls—and now men have come into the picture.” She sneered. “Don’t they realize it’s just a mistake to depend on those guys? Depending on a man for happiness will just bring about your ruin. Falling in love with a man gives him the ultimate power. You always taught us that!”

  Yolanda nodded thoughtfully as she sat down on her settee. She crossed her legs and adjusted her skirt over her knees. “Yes, I did.”

  “So how did they forget? Why are they setting themselves up for so much disappointment?”

  “I have no idea, sweetheart. I tried my best to teach you girls. I felt it was my responsibility to show you the way, as my mother showed me. But now that you’re grown women, I acknowledge that it’s your own lives. You have to make these decisions yourselves. Your sisters have chosen to follow their own path.” She gravely shook her head. “And there’s nothing you or I can do about it.”

  Cynthia dropped her head into her hands. She sat silently for several seconds. “I just . . . I just wish I could save them like you saved me.”

  Yolanda frowned. “What do you mean, honey?”

  Cynthia removed her hands from her face. She gazed at her mother. “Remember Korey Walker?”

  “Ah, yes. Korey!” Yolanda laughed ruefully. “Now that is a name I haven’t heard in quite a while. He was the young man you were in love with, right?”

  Cynthia nodded. “I was madly in love with him and ready to run away with him. I wanted to be with him forever and you talked me out of it . . . and I’m glad you did. I would have walked away from the chance to marry Bill, probably ended up marrying Korey, and found out that he had cheated on me and was having a baby with some other girl.”

  “Darling, why are we talking about Korey now? What brought this on?”

  Cynthia stared at the Persian rug beneath her feet. “I ran into him a few days ago.”

  “Oh, dear! And how did that go?”

  “All right . . . I guess. But it brought back lots of memories, both good and bad.”

  “Looking backward can be very dangerous, baby. That’s why I always look forward.”

  Cynthia sighed. “But what if he hadn’t cheated on me, Mama? What if he hadn’t married Vivian Brady? Would he and I still be together? Instead of raising a kid with Vivian, would we be raising our child together and—”

  “You can always imagine multiple realities, Cindy . . . see hundreds of ways life could be different. But the only reality that matters is the here and now. You made the right choice.”

  Cynthia took a deep breath. “You’re right. You’re right, Mama.”

  Yolanda smiled. “Of course, I’m right.” She rose to her feet and walked toward her daughter. “Now don’t forget when you arrive home to call your sister S
tephanie and apologize to her. I’m sure she’s crying her eyes out right now, stuffing her face with a gallon of fudge ripple ice cream.”

  Cynthia stood. “I won’t forget, Mama.”

  Yolanda walked Cynthia to her car. She stood near the driveway as Cynthia climbed inside her Lexus.

  “Now remember,” Yolanda called as she stood on the brick steps and waved, “always look forward, not backward, honey!”

  Cynthia nodded. She put on her designer sunglasses, shifted the car into drive, and pulled off.

  Chapter 5

  “Lookie here. Lookie here. Lookie here!”

  Korey frowned. “Huh?”

  He was in the middle of removing a dead spark plug from a 2002 Cadillac Escalade when he heard the shout behind him.

  “Ray, what the hell are you talking about?” Korey said over his shoulder. “Don’t you have something to do?”

  Ray was one of the mechanics in his shop. He was a good guy, but unfortunately he spent most of his time shooting the breeze and talking about last night’s heavyweight fight than he did actually working.

  “Oh, no, partna! I can’t describe this one to you.” He thumped Korey on his back. “You gotta see this one for yourself.”

  Korey set the spark plug aside and leaned back from the car’s engine. He peered around the raised hood, expecting to see the most beautiful automobile Detroit had ever created. Instead he saw a woman standing at the garage entrance.

  She slammed the door of her SUV shut, took off her sunglasses, and tucked her snakeskin purse underneath her arm. She was wearing a tight-fitting purple dress that dipped low in the front and hugged her hips. A black patent-leather belt showed off her svelte waist. She wore matching black stilettos that clicked on the cement floor as she strode toward them. Her blond hair was swept up today, revealing her long, delicate neck. Silver teardrop earrings dangled from her earlobes.

  He had to hand it to her; Cynthia Gibbons certainly knew how to make an entrance. Ray and about half of the other men in the garage were almost salivating over her as she walked across the room. The conversation and chaotic clamor in the garage died down to a near whisper as they stared.