Page 68 of All For You Duet

“Cade Bryant, will you please honor me with a date tonight?”

That only took nineteen years.

“Yes.”

I float.

Held by his hand. Down the elevator. To the Mercedes, he’s renting. Over the familiar palm and pine-lined road he’s driving down.

I don’t care where we’re going. More pink tulips are on the dash for me, and I’m swimming in bliss.

There’s a yellow orchid arrangement on the floorboard too, and still, I don’t ask.

“Come on, Detective.” He talks over our senior year playlist. “Don’t you wanna know where we’re going?”

“Nope.” I uncross my legs, parting my thighs for his glance. “I like letting you be in control.”

“Careful there, darlin’.” His voice is lube sliding across my eager pussy. “That’s dangerous permission.”

“I’m prepared for danger.”

He has no clue how much.

But right now? I’m prepared to ride him in this car.

God, this is going to be a long night.

After a bit, I realize where we’re going first, and I fight back touched tears. He parks in front of Ms. Ryan’s house.

Redix and Pamela were close too.

“I called her and asked if we could come by,” he informs me while he carries the orchid to her front door.

Ms. Ryan is beside herself with our hugs and smiles. We spend an hour at her house. She gives Redix a tour though nothing has changed, not even Pamela’s room. The three of us stand before Pamela’s yellow bedspread, and Ms. Ryan can’t take her eyes off us. We’re holding hands and I can’t believe it, either.

“She’d be so happy to see you two together again.” I’ve never seen Ms. Ryan so lucid, so alive. “She loved you both.”

Redix squeezes my hand. His is sweating. He’s nervous, and I didn’t appreciate it until now—this is his first time confronting that Pamela’s gone.

That something horrible happened to her, and we may never know what or who. Though I have a suspicion that haunts my soul.

“I just love watching you on the red carpet.” Ms. Ryan feeds us salted lemon pound cake in her kitchen, her eyes sparkling for Redix. “My word, you look so handsome. You make me so proud.”

“Will you go with me next time?” He’s chomping on the cake, smiling through lips that want to pucker. “I have the Golden Globes next January. Ms. Ryan, will you please be my date?”

“Don’t you tease an old lady.”

“I’m not teasing, ma’am.” He reaches for her hand on the table. “You’d be the prettiest one there, and I’d be the luckiest man alive.”

I can’t stop the hitch in my heart. He just gave Ms. Ryan the other important thing missing from her life—hope, something real to look forward to, and I clench my teeth to keep from crying.

“Redix Dean.” I hold his hand over the center console while we drive away. “Is it possible sobriety made you even sweeter?”

My hand feels safe in his, and he doesn’t say a word. Deep down, I know how humble Redix really is. I’m glad to see it shine. Minutes later, he’s surprising me more by pulling up to the resort where we had our big fight.

“Come on,” he says, opening the car door for me, “we’re righting every wrong tonight.”

“You should know”—I take his hand, wanting to shove it under my dress—“that I want to be very wrong with you tonight.”