Through the Lens (Click Duet #1) (Bay Area Duet Series) Persephone Autumn (black authors fiction TXT) 📖

We drive south on Edgewater, not far from the Dunedin-Clearwater border. “Of course, I understand. But you pay me to make decisions that will impact the future of your career. And this” —she gestures behind us— “her, will impact your future. In more ways than one.”

That is what I am hoping.

“I realize she’ll change my future. It’s what I’m hoping for. The one thing I’ve wanted for years. And now I have the ability of returning to her.” I pause a moment and ponder over my next words. “This will make things different with our relationship, but you can either represent me from afar or I can find someone else. The choice is yours.”

I hate to throw ultimatums on the table, but I will not have her or anyone else hindering my return. Not Alyson. Not my mother. No one. Although, a small part of me thinks my mom may be happy for me. After our move to Cali, I witnessed how sad she was for me. How guilty she felt for removing me from my friends and girlfriend. It hurt me, and her by proxy.

“Well, aside from your plan to move—” she says hesitantly, then continues. “—don’t forget about the shoot you have booked with Layla. And speaking of Layla, how will all of that work out if you move across the country?”

I shoot her a pointed look, but she doesn’t catch it with her eyes on the road. “I’ll talk with her. She’ll understand. Besides, she’s good now.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I question, fire building in my chest. I am so over Alyson, her selfishness and her annoyance with me living my life how I choose.

“Nothing. All it means is I hope it doesn’t ruin you or her.”

“It won’t,” I snap. Alyson is grasping at straws. Trying to make something of nothing. Trying to rile me up. But I won’t feed into her line of bullshit.

The remainder of our drive is quiet. Alyson churning my words in her head, realizing she has an important decision to make. She is either on board or she isn’t. And trying to throw bullshit about Layla in the mix—it is a low blow, even for Alyson. I have been working for years to get to this point. To return to Cora. And now that I am able, nothing will stop me. Nothing will take this away from me. From us.

The Uber driver dropped me off in front of Cora’s house five minutes ago. So why am I standing out front? My feet locked in place on the rustic paver pathway leading to her front stoop. I stare at the gray siding, black shutters, and black-framed glass door, taking my first, true assessment of her home.

A large oak tree shadows most of the yard with lush ferns growing around the base of the trunk. Two ducks waddle away from the ferns and cross the street to head for the park’s pond. A brick chimney painted dark gray crawls up the eastern wall of the house—and although fireplaces aren’t used often in Florida, I bet she uses it every chance she gets. Small flowered plants encompass the border of the house—pops of yellow and red and purple in the foliage—white rocks at their base. Large windows take up the majority of the exterior walls and allow for hours of natural light. Strands of starry lights dangle from the roof over the stoop. Everything about this house screams her style. Simple. Clean-cut. Monochromatic. With the exception of the colorful plants.

I remain rooted another minute before dragging in a deep breath. The reality of us coming back together hits me like a lead weight. A burning tightness takes residence in my chest, building and expanding with every breath. It consumes every molecule of oxygen, every drop of blood, every fiber and jolts me back to life.

This is my future. She is my future.

God, I have dreamed about this moment for so long. Dreamed of her in my arms again. Imagined what life would be like waking up in the same bed every day. Moving around each other in the kitchen while making breakfast. Spooning on the couch as we watch movies in the dark. Discussing our day over dinner. Laughing together with friends. Creating a family and growing old together.

She is it for me. Always has been. Always will be. Not a single day has passed where I haven’t thought of Cora. Wondered what she was doing. How she fit into the world now. If she still thought of me. If she would be able to love me again.

Fuck, I love her so much.

The front door opens and Cora stands in the doorway looking at me with questions in her eyes. “You okay?” she asks, doubt in her voice. No doubt she has seen me standing out here. Hopefully not for too long.

“Yeah. Sorry.” I stride up the path and stop in front of her. I plant a kiss on her forehead and inhale deeply, filling my nose with the scent that is one-hundred-percent her. “Was just admiring your house. You’ve done so well for yourself. And it suits you so much.”

“Thank you,” she says, a timid smile pushing up her cheeks. “You coming in? Or do you plan to stand out here until we leave?”

I step past her, seeing the inside of her house in a new light. The interior isn’t overly spacious, but it is enough for her. For us. I love how easily I picture our future. Our road may have had major detours, but we are finally coming back to the path we belong on. Together.

To the right, the living room—maybe twelve square-feet—showcases the fireplace from the eastern wall with a charcoal and gray fabric couch opposite. A resin-coated wood slice coffee table rests between the two, decorated with a wide bowl of succulents. To the left is the kitchen and dining area. The kitchen is small yet vast. A large fridge at one end,