g back to Qwest.

“And I’m sorry if I took any of this out on you.” I lean against the wall, bending my knee and propping my foot there. “I’m just tired of this. What does me wanting to spend the rest of my life with Bristol have to do with me wanting things to improve? Wanting better for our community?”

Surprise and then something that resembles hurt flits through Qwest’s eyes before she drops them to the cheap corridor carpet.

“The rest of your life?” She forces a laugh. “So it’s like that?”

Dammit. I’m so Bristol’s, sometimes I forget I was ever anyone else’s. In this moment, I definitely forgot Qwest ever felt she had any claim on me.

“I’m sorry.” I scrub the back of my neck. “I didn’t think—”

“That I still had feelings for you?” Her mocking smile is turned inside out. “You’re a hard man to get over.”

A sheet of ice falls over Qwest’s face.

“But I have,” she says. “I’ll admit, seeing you again . . .” She rolls a lusty look from my head to my Jordans. “You could still get it.”

She tips her head up to meet my eyes, a question there, one I hope she doesn’t voice.

“Qwest, come on,” I say, clearing my throat of awkwardness. “You know I’m with somebody else.”

“I bet she don’t give it to you like I did,” she says, all sass and bravado.

Actually, she does, but I choose not to make things worse by saying so. I just watch her, keeping my face indifferent.

“Let’s not do this.” I push off the wall, intending to step around her, but she pushes me back, leaving her hand in the center of my chest. It feels wrong to have someone else touch me, but I tamp down my unease and leave it there for now. I still feel guilty about the way I dragged her into the complex web of my relationship with Bristol. I hate that I hurt her before, and I want to handle her more carefully than I did in the past. I’ll leave her hand there and leave our eyes connected until she says what she needs to say.

“If I had long, silky hair,” Qwest says, bitterness tingeing her voice, “and gray eyes and a pretty golden tan, would you want me then?”

Damn.

“It has nothing to do with that, with those things, Qwest.” I place my hand over hers, hoping the contact offers her some comfort. “Am I attracted to Bris? Of course, but I’ve been attracted to a lot of women.”

“You were attracted to me.” Boldness presses through the uncertainty on her face.

“I was,” I agree. “But I’ve only ever loved one woman, and that’s Bristol.”

I pause, meting out my next words with care.

“And she’s the only woman I plan to be in love with. So yeah, I’m spending the rest of my life with her, and I can’t know what would have happened if she looked different, if she were blond, if she was Black. For me, it’s a moot point, because I’m in love with the version of her that I have. That’s all that matters.”

Qwest flinches, like my words were a slap in her face. She pulls back, and with the tiny weight of her palm lifted, I breathe easier. She steps away and clears her throat, the uncertain woman asking questions gone. The assertive badass I’m used to seeing, the one who has all the answers, stands in front of me again.

“Love who you want, Grip.” Her voice, her eyes, everything about her is resigned now. “Just be in the studio when my team needs you. I may not have any hold over your heart, but I still got your ass under contract for my album.”

I manage a laugh, hoping to get us back on the footing we’ve had over the last few weeks I’ve been working on her project while in New York. “I’ll be there.”

My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I take it out to see Bristol’s name.

“Well, I guess I should let you handle that,” Qwest says, eyeing the screen. Her typical swagger is at odds with the lingering hurt I see in her eyes as she turns to walk away.

“Bris, I—”

“Why is she touching you?”

Bristol’s voice is that dangerous, about-to-go-HAM quiet.

“Um, babe, what?” I’m disoriented. “Why is who touching me?”

Tags: Kennedy Ryan Romance
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