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She gathered her purse, phone and tablet. He rose. “I appreciate you considering working with us. I’ll take it back to them.”
“Look, I’m not trying to be difficult. But it’s about my brand. If I’m pairing myself with a company, it has to be the right deal. Like a marriage.”
No. The last thing she needed to think about was weddings or wedding dates. Because that brought her right back to Bennett. Her body flushed and she forced a smile. “Give me a call when they’re ready.”
As she walked out of the office, the massive wall photo in the lobby caught her attention. There was something so familiar about what appeared to be a woman dancing in the center of the sun. Before she left she asked the receptionist, “Excuse me, do you know who took that photo?”
The receptionist smiled. “Oh, yeah, that’s from that hot photographer. He was in People’s sexiest issue. Not the cover or anything, but he got a mention. He took it. What was his name? Benji. Benny... Oh, yeah. Bennett Cooper.”
“Bennett Cooper?” Val’s eyes went wide.
“Yeah, that’s the one. Mr. Emmerson got it at auction. He was so excited. It went for nearly half a million or something.”
Val stared at the image. The guy she’d thought ran a motorcycle club was world-class. Just who was she pretending to date, anyway?
* * *
Val found her mother waiting at their usual table at Akasha. Her mother was nothing if not a creature of habit. They’d been having lunch at Akasha once a month since Val left for NYU. They’d always sat at the same table, and for the most part ordered the same things. Her mother would go on about how great her sister was, all the while telling Val how she’d just missed out on being great. Ah, the joys of routine.
“Hi, Mom.”
Her mother’s smile was brief. “Honey, are you still parting your hair to the side like that? I told you you have to vary your parts or it causes stress on the hairline.” She sighed. “Not that you’ll ever listen. Anyway. You’re late.”
“Actually, I’m five minutes early.” Val didn’t even glance at her watch, but she was never late for a lunch with her mother. She’d never hear the end of it. These lunches had become such a routine that Val knew exactly how to start the conversation to get her mother talking so she could mentally plan the rest of her day. “How are the wedding plans?”
And they were off. With an exaggerated roll of her eyes, her mother started in on the caterers and the alcohol and how it really was tacky to do a cash bar, but it was also alarming to have people sloshing around drunk at their perfect baby’s wedding. And then it went to the dress and the fittings and why Val had been MIA during the fitting.
Val didn’t bother to remind her mother that she wasn’t the maid of honor or even a bridesmaid. Not that she and her sister were feuding.
They just weren’t close, and had a distant relationship. Sol was seven years younger, so Val had been more mother figure than sister. And her sister had her friends and her own instincts. Besides, they were different. Where Val toed the line, followed the rules, Sol did not. She sneaked out, made out with boys, took their father’s car on a joyride. Went to concerts. And did the things that said, Hey, I’ve lived life. Val hadn’t really done any of that. She hadn’t spread her wings at all until she was in college and on her own. And even then she was restrained. She really did need to get a life.
When her mother veered to the topic of her date, Val desperately tried to recover the threads of the conversation so she could piece together what she’d missed. “Actually, Mom, I’ve been meaning to tell you, James and I broke up.”
Dear old Mom didn’t miss a beat, sighing and throwing her napkin down. “Honestly, Val, it’s like you’re trying to drive these men away from you with a flamethrower. Why did this one break up with you? It’s like we can’t get you a foothold with the man thing. It’s probably because you’re too aloof. Men like warmth in a woman. It’s not your nose thing, is it? I thought it was mostly under control.”
Val ground her teeth. “No. It wasn’t my nose thing.” From the moment she’d been hit, things had gotten increasingly difficult with her parents. So many places she couldn’t go. All the weird things she said about how food tasted funny. She really hadn’t helped her parents make any new friends. “And I broke up with him.” There. That was sort of the truth.
The look on her mother’s face was priceless. “But why in heavens would you do that? He is the James Adamson. He is old New Orleans—his great-great-grandfather was a freedman who became a doctor. In those times. Can you imagine his pedigree? He’s an Adamson. A young black man who’s carrying on the family tradition. He’s a dermatologist. Renowned. His earning potential is huge. Honestly, I don’t understand you sometimes.”
As her mother spoke, all the reasons why Val wanted a change in the first place bubbled to the surface. She wanted freedom of choice. She wanted to do something because she craved it and not because it was expected. She wanted to want someone because it lit her on fire.
Like Bennett. No. Not like Bennett. But whatever. She just didn’t want bland. Not anymore. She was in charge of her life and she could do what she liked. “Actually, Mom, I do have somebody. It’s new, but it’s serious.”
Her mother arched delicate brows. “Oh? Do tell. Who is his family? Where did they go to university? Do I know them? Did he do Jack and Jill?”
Shoot, that was information she didn’t have. Why hadn’t she prepped better? Because you were too busy reveling in the way Bennett tastes and not paying attention to the information you need to deliver. “Mom, you don’t know him. You might know his work, though. He’s a photographer.” Cue the nose wrinkle. Ooh, was that just her, or was there a snort, too? Awesome.
“A photographer? Sweetheart. You don’t seem to understand. Who you date, and eventually who you marry, matters. You’re a descendant of Garrett Morgan, an inventor and successful businessman. Think about that. You want to be with someone who is just a photographer?”
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