Page 47 of False Start

"I never really thought much about weddings, diamond rings, or frilly white dresses," she continues. "I'm not even sure if Iwantall that stuff. My parents had a huge wedding; my mom used to talk about how they spared no expense. How it was like something out of a fairytale. They even had their wedding photo blown up and hanging above the mantle." She takes another quick drag and frowns. "None of that kept our family together when things got tough, though."

I take the joint from between her fingers and hide my sigh in a puff of smoke. I know it's too early to be thinking about this kind of stuff—I'm not crazy. But, if things keep progressing with Denise as I hope they will, it might come up in the future. Way,way,in the future, after she at least lets me call her my girlfriend.

"I'm sorry your parents got divorced. That sucks."

"Oh, they didn't get divorced," she corrects. "Losing Andre broke them.

"They always gave him more attention—he needed it," she rushes to add. "Run of the mill teen angst and student fashion shows hardly compared to problems that required meds and hospitalization." I can hear the bitterness in her voice and my heart aches. She takes back the joint.

"Once he was gone, though, there wasn't enough left of them to bother with me. It didn't help that I showed up to the funeral wasted, embarrassing them in front of all their fancy friends. But I was hurting," she finishes in a broken whisper. She clears her throat, trying to compose herself.

"God, I always forget how emotional this strain makes me." She shakes her head and hands me back the joint.

"My parents had the dream wedding, the 'white picket fence' life, but once Andre was gone, they didn't bother trying to salvage what was left of our family. We're basically strangers now."

I blink a few times to keep the moisture in my eyes at bay.No wonder us getting close has her running scared!Her family, the people who were supposed to be there for her no matter what, her first example of what real love looks like, completely abandoned her.

As much as my brothers annoy me, and Mom and Dad sometimes push me a little too hard, they're my family. I'm pretty surenothingcould make them give up on me.

Before I can come up with something comforting to say, the backdoor opens.

"Oops," Maya says, looking embarrassed. "I didn't mean to interrupt."

Denise snatches the joint from my hands and quickly stomps out the butt before moving towards the door.

"You weren't interrupting anything, girl," she says without looking back. "Just came out to enjoy the scenery for a bit."

Maya looks doubtfully at Denise as she brushes past her through the door, then at me, still standing in the far corner of the yard. I give her a little salute and head inside myself, hoping we came across as casual when I know we were probably standing too close to pull that off.

"The patio's all yours," I say with a bob of my head. She quirks an eyebrow but says nothing.

Something tells me Denise is going to have to explain what Maya saw. I just wish that didn't mean lying about us.

Chapter twenty

Denise

Iunzipmythigh-highstilettoboots as soon as I step through my apartment door. The pain I endure for fashion! It was worth it, though; when I took off my jacket, Cory looked like he wanted to pounce.

Getting ready separately was such a good idea. We couldn't very well get ready together, show up together, and then pretend to be strangers. People would know something was up. As it is, I think we're one more slip from Maya figuring it out, but until she says something, I'm going to assume the coast is clear.

I kick off shoes that could pass as torture devices and start towards the bathroom before the buzzer stops me.

"Ugh, c'mon!" I grumble. "I've been on my feet for,"—the stove clock reads 11:48pm—"over four hours! Can't a girl take a bath and crash in peace?!"

I shuffle to the intercom on bare feet, prepared to chew out whoever answers, but there's a knock on my door. Who the hell would come by this late? I hope one of my neighbors didn't let a stranger into the building.

Padding quietly to the peephole in case I need to pretend I'm not home or, worse, call the cops, I breathe a sigh of relief when I see Cory on the other side. I unlock the three deadbolts and stand aside for him to enter.

"Your fucking door is still broken, Denise!" he shouts as he storms into the room. I close the door behind him. "It wasn't even shut all the way when I buzzed. Anyone could have walked in!"

He's so furious, he's pacing…And he's got a point. I may be a tough New Yorker,—growing up in Mount Vernon and then living in the city ever since college—but I'm not stupid. I'm still a woman living alone. Not having a working lock on the front door of my building is asking for something terrible to happen.

I stop his pacing with my hands on his shoulders.

"You're right," I say in a soothing voice. "Idoneed a working lock on the front door."

I breathe in and out, hoping he'll "woosah" with me and calm down. After the third breath, he finally does.

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