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Including a rapist,Cornell thought, staring at her.
“What?” Ali asked.
He shook his head, taking a sip of his drink. “The reason I love you is the reason you’re going to get heartbroken one day, Ali.” Cornell cupped her cheek. “I know you want to save them all. I’d just hate for you to be disappointed when you realize you can’t.” His thumb ran across her lip. This girl. What am I going to do with her?
A smile spread across her face. “Maybe I like a challenge.” She kissed the tip of his finger before playfully nipping at it.
Cornell tucked a piece of golden-brown hair behind her ear. “Be careful what you wish for.”
* * *
“I thought you boys could use some lemonade,” Celeste said, carrying a tray with a pitcher and glasses out to the deck where Cornell, Benton, and Ali’s semi-stepfather John were grilling. “Don’t worry, I already put the vodka in it. Just a splash.” She put down the tray and winked at Cornell.
“Celeste,” John began.
“Oh, hush, John. It’s the Fourth of July,” Ali’s grandmother spat, pouring each of them a glass.
“Thanks, Nana,’ Cornell said with a smile. He peeked over the deck, looking down at the lower level hearing Ali laugh when Mowgli stuck his head into the bowl of chips on the table. Her mother, Bobbi, shrieked before her own dog, Porter, followed suit, barking.
“I’ll go and feed them.” John whistled from the stairs. “Inside, you scoundrels.”
“This is quite the crew you roll with,” Benton said to Cornell when John went into the house.
Cornell laughed, flipping a steak. “Don’t I know it.”
“Is it the kind of crew you’re planning on rolling with for the long run?” Benton raised an eyebrow. “Tara said you two are pretty serious.”
Serious enough, Cornell thought, and that wasn’t just about Ali. Her family had become a bonus family on some level. He and John played golf every few weeks. Bobbi saved certain things around the house for Cornell to help with. He didn’t need to ring the doorbell, knew where the bottle opener was, made sure to always use a coaster.
It made Cornell wonder about what life might be like if things had gone differently—if his parents never split up, if his mother never died, if he didn’t harbor so much resentment for his father and conversations weren’t laced with a sour, bitter taste. Maybe his ambitions would have been different—higher—molding him into not just a great college quarterback, but one with NFL potential.
But none of that mattered. Because the roads—bumpy, dirty, and poorly paved—led him to this moment, looking over the railing at the woman who wrinkled her nose when she laughed, whose hair looked ten different shades of brown depending on how the light hit it. Maybe if he had taken a different path, a year ago he wouldn’t have been sitting next to her in the right place at the right time.
All of those bumpy roads led to Ali.
He returned his focus to the sizzling dinner. “I could roll with her,” Cornell told Benton, but his ever-present confidence wouldn’t settle for just possibility. “I will. Long run.”
Ali’s it for me, he thought. End of story. But Cornell knew there would have to be more to their story before they discussed long term. “Not any time soon, though. You can tell Tara that if she sent you to snoop.” He playfully nudged Benton, who continued to stare. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
A wide grin spread across Benton’s face. “We don’t know each other well, Cornell. But I’ve seen that look before. You’ll be wifed up soon enough, don’t kid yourself.”
Cornell lifted the glass to his lips, the unexpected whiff of vodka making him cringe. “Let’s see what Ali says.”
“What Ali says about what?” she asked from the top of the stairs.
Turning, Cornell draped an arm around her. “Benton wants to know if I’m a better grill master than John.”
Ali peeked at the barbecue. “My mom likes hers rare, so she’d probably tell you that you lost the title about eighteen seconds ago.”
“Shit,” Cornell mumbled, sliding a piece of meat onto a plate.
Benton laughed, making his way down the stairs. “Cockiness can burn. Watch out, Cornell.”
Pouring some lemonade, Ali paused before bringing the pink drink to her lips. “Did Nana make this?”
“Am I that cocky?” Cornell asked.
Ali’s face twisted when she took a sip. “She definitely made this. A little,” she said, her mouth tilting up in a grin. “Makes it a lot sweeter when I roast you in boardwalk games though.”
