Rufus’s eyes bugged out. “What? That white boy right there?”
Lyfe gave him a lopsided smile. “Well, look at it this way. It’s not me.”
The men’s gazes locked again and another layer of tension was added between them. When Lyfe was younger, the look Rufus Banks was giving him would’ve been enough for him to trip over himself and scramble home. But fourteen years later, Lyfe was an intimidating man himself.
“Come on, Hennessey. Let’s get out of here.”
Chapter 4
The minute their wedding announcement segment ended on the entertainment channel, Corona powered off the television then jumped out of bed and raced toward the bathroom. “Oh, God. I think that I’m going to be sick.”
“Hey!” Rowan said from his side of the bed, as he lowered the script that he was reading. “I thought it was a very nice interview.”
Corona ignored him and dropped onto her knees next to the toilet bowl and waited for her dinner to make an encore appearance. But instead her stomach bent and turned like it was playing its own private game of Twister.
“Are you all right in there?”
She gagged and coughed but still nothing came up. “Yeah.” She sniffed and hung her head low so that her voice echoed in the porcelain chamber. “I’m fine.” In her mind, she replayed the syrupy sweet interview and felt another violent jerk in the center of her stomach.
What if my family saw it?
“You’re worried about your family,” Rowan said.
Corona jerked her head up to see her freshly minted fiancé leaning against the bathroom doorframe. He looked so studious in his wire-rimmed frames, and a hunk of his black hair flopped over his left eye. Then again, the man really didn’t have a bad angle on him.
“And don’t bother lying to me,” Rowan warned before she could think of a good lie. “I can tell that you’re worried about them learning about our engagement in the media before we get a chance to tell them in person.”
“Well—”
“Then let’s just fly down there and tell them. Get it out of the way. I don’t understand what the big deal is,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m starting to feel like the black sheep or something.”
Corona stretched up a single brow.
Rowan coughed and cleared his throat. “Okay. Bad choice of words.”
“You think?” Corona dragged herself off the floor and then quickly rummaged through her medicine cabinet for her beloved bottle of Excedrin.
“Okay. Then let’s just call them.”
“We will,” she said.
“When?”
“Soon.” It was all that she could offer.
Rowan’s steady gaze trapped her. “Is it because I’m white?”
“What? Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Come on. You can tell me. I’m a big boy.”
“No.” She grabbed a Dixie cup and quickly filled it with water so she could down her precious two pills. “It’s not that.”
“But it’s something … right?”
Cornered, Corona prolonged swallowing her pills by holding them and the water in her cheeks longer than necessary.
When she didn’t respond, Rowan tossed up his hands. “Fine. Fine. I can take a hint. Believe it or not, I don’t need a brick building to fall on my head, you know. You don’t want to tell your parents right now. I’ll step back and respect that—but we’re going to have to tell them sooner or later.”
Corona sucked in a deep breath, but she didn’t answer him.
“All right. You know what? I’m going to head back to my place to study this script,” he said, turning around. “We begin shooting soon and I need to concentrate.”
Finally swallowing her pills, Corona followed him. “Whoa. Wait, Rowan. You don’t have to do that.”
“Actually, I do.” He completed his march over to the bed and started shoving his things into the leather duffle bag that he usually brought when there was a possibility of him being able to stay the night.
Corona sighed at having made a complete mess of this night. But, then again, didn’t this just fit the MO of how she generally screwed things up when it came to relationships? “Rowan—”
“I’ll call you tomorrow,” he said, blazing toward her and stopping briefly to peck a light kiss against the top of her head. That was definitely a sign that she’d screwed this evening up.
“Row—” She reached to stop him, but he was already halfway to the bedroom door and she was left grasping at air. “All right. Goodnight then.”
“‘Night.” He slipped out of the door and left her to listen to his heavy footsteps as they rushed down the staircase.
In the back of Corona’s mind, she had the fleeting desire to chase after him. But if she succeeded in doing that, what was she going to give as a better explanation as to why she wasn’t ready to introduce him to her family?
No, she wasn’t the only transplant from Georgia roaming the streets of Manhattan. But she was pretty sure that the other movers and shakers in the concrete jungle didn’t have fathers that proudly proclaimed winning the top prize in the Southern Select Show Pig Championship or chased the boyfriends they didn’t like with a shotgun and forced them to marry their daughters.
Call it a hunch.
Oh, she loved her parents. Really. She did.
She just loved them more when they remained in Thomason, Georgia. What was it they said? Absence makes the heart grow fonder? That was certainly the case with her and her family.
Hell, she’d forgotten to ask Rowan about her diaries—or accuse him of finding and reading them.
Riiiiiinnnng!
Corona jumped and then jerked her head toward the phone on the nightstand next to the bed. “Rowan.” Maybe he wasn’t so mad at her after all. A side of her lips quirked up. He might even be standing outside the building, wanting to say how much he hated how things had ended on a weird note between them tonight. After all, Rowan was a strong advocate of not going to bed angry.
The weight of the world lifted off her shoulders. She raced over to the phone and snatched it up with her apology cresting her lips before she even got the receiver to her ear. “Baby, I’m so sorry.”
“Well, it’s about time you admitted it!”
Her face twisted. “Who is this?”
“Damn. You don’t even recognize the voice of your little sister anymore?”
Corona slammed her eyes closed and groaned. “Tess.”
“Wow. What a way to make a girl feel special, Chloe,” her sister sniped. “What a ridiculous name. I’m calling you Corona. You were named after our grandmother, and you should be proud of that.”
“I am proud, it’s just … “
“Country. And country doesn’t work in the big city.”
“Can we please not argue about this?”
“Fine. I called to ask why I had to find out about your getting married to Mr. Action-Pack on that little thingy we call down here ‘the boob tube.’”
Corona’s heart sank. “You saw that?”
“As