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Chapter 23
Cornell did allow himself one more drink because with each passing course, the more his knee bounced under the table and the more he fidgeted in his seat. Under the guise of the guy in the tux, with the patent leather shoes that were a little too tight for his size 16 feet, the one who was smooth enough to pull off a surprise night away with his girlfriend who almost always knew everything, Cornell had to nearly chug the Jack and Coke.
“I think I’ve hit a wall,” Benton said, slumping to his elbows at the bar beside Cornell and tugging at his tie. “Can’t stand a closed neck.”
Cornell swirled his glass. “Don’t you wear a tie in court?”
“Guess I really didn’t think this whole lawyer thing through, huh?” Benton flagged down the bartender’s attention. “Whatever he’s having.”
Cornell’s eyes drifted over the tables to Ali in the corner of the ballroom with Tara. With the obstruction of the moving crowd, he couldn’t see her face, just the flare of her eyes. She’s smiling. Even though he couldn’t see it, and even in the crowded room, Cornell could feel it.
“Cornell?”
He turned to Benton. “Sorry, did you say something?”
“I asked if you were doing okay.”
Cornell took a sip of his drink. “Shoes are a little tight, and I twisted my knee dancing with Ali’s grandmother, but yeah. I’m cool.”
Benton sighed. “No, I meant, are you okay.”
Turning his head back in Ali’s direction, Cornell nodded. She’s okay, so I’m okay. She’s better, so I’m better, he told himself, but really, Cornell hated that Benton asked in the first place. Don’t bring me down, man. Not tonight.
His mind had been clear of the incident for nearly the entire day—making a fool of himself rock climbing, eating French Toast off Ali’s plate at the diner, the way his breath got stuck in the back of his throat when she walked out in that dress. There was no room for not being okay when his favorite part of Ali’s body—the slope of her neck—was on full display and when her eyes were light and sparkling even in the dimly lit ballroom.
And when they stood in front of the mirror at home, Cornell’s heart held up a no vacancy sign to any dark thoughts the moment she leaned against him. It had been so long since their bodies touched that way—Ali’s back to his front, arms around her. The shoes she had been wearing made her body hit differently than where it typically did. But Cornell’s heart bloomed in full happiness even on a dark November day, and it reminded him that no matter the circumstances—high or low, dark or light—they fit together like they were meant to be.
“I’m good,” Cornell told Benton with a nod.
Benton pressed his lips together before motioning his head. “Ali seems like she’s happy tonight.”
“She is.” Cornell caught a flash of his mother’s earring as Ali and Tara walked back to the table. He could feel Benton’s stare boring into him. “What?”
“Not sure if you saw my text,” Benton began. “About the services for—”
“I did.”
Benton nodded. “Okay.”
“I’m straight. All good.”
“Did you call any—”
“Man,” Cornell interrupted. “I’m good. We”—he paused, motioning over to Ali—“we’re good.”
Benton looked down. “I’m not trying to overstep. I just know how hard it can be.”
You do? He wanted to ask. Tell me, Benton, how it feels to have the love of your fucking life need you at the worst point in hers? Gripping the glass, Cornell looked at his feet, not seeing the shiny, too-tight dress shoes on the carpeted floor of the ballroom. He saw his sneakers on the linoleum tile of the hospital.
“Cornell, help me.”
Instinctively, Cornell stepped forward to do just that, as if Ali wasn’t across the ballroom sparkling in his mother’s earrings, her body covered in soft velvet. He had to squeeze his eyes shut and reopen them to find her not in a hospital gown, chained to the bed, scared, and still fighting.
“Cornell—”
“Benton, I’m good.” He clenched his jaw and gave Benton a firm nod. Because I’m here with her, and she’s over there laughing and dancing, and you’re fucking dragging me down. She’s being strong. I need to be stronger. I need to be stronger for her tonight and tomorrow and forever and whatever comes after.
“Forget I told you at all, alright?”
