Forever For Now

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Chapter One

LEELAND JEFFERS stood in front of the door to his midtown Atlanta condo, struggling to dig his keys out of the pocket of his khaki slacks while holding on to two bags of groceries, his leather satchel, and the day’s mail, which was tucked tightly under his arm. He somehow managed to unlock the door and get it open just before everything went south and hit the floor with a thud.

Well, fuck me, Lee barked, dropping to his knees and trying to stop the vegetables from rolling out into the hallway.

Anytime, handsome, a sultry voice said from above.

Lee stared at the tan Gucci loafers adorning feet with no socks and then made his way up the royal blue suede slacks to a muffin top squeezed between the fitted pants and a way-too-tight mesh tank top. Capping this visual journey was the smiling face of Lee’s portly new neighbor, who was leaning against the wall, arms folded across his chest. Lee studied the man’s two inches of unbleached hair growth, the platinum blond remainder taking on a dingy yellowish glow from the fluorescent lighting in the hallway. Lee’s first thought was Man, is he in dire need of a touch-up. Followed by, I love the color of your hair, but how do you get your roots so dark?

Lee flashed an insincere smile. Curt, he said, continuing to gather his runaway vegetables.

Dropped your groceries? Curt asked.

No. I’m just crawling around on the floor picking up tomatoes for the hell of it. Here’s your stupid sign.

Just trying to do too many things at once, is all.

Want some help? Curt asked, bending down, picking up a stray cucumber, and offering it to Lee, but not without caressing it and winking.

Lee quickly took the cucumber out of his neighbor’s hand. Note to self: throw that away.

No, thanks. I think I have it covered, but I appreciate the offer.

It’s all so healthy, Curt added, ignoring the brush-off and looking down at the array of fresh fruit and vegetables on the floor, then back up to Lee. He smiled seductively. I guess it’s true when they say you are what you eat.

Done with this interaction, Lee used his foot to push his satchel and the half-empty grocery bags out of the way enough to clear the door. I’d love to chat, but as you can see, I have my hands full, he said and attempted to close the door.

Curt put a foot out at the last minute, preventing the door from closing. My offer still stands, you know.

Lee cocked his head to one side. Come again?

I always do, Curt said, licking his lips.

Trying to keep his cool, Lee ignored the comment and asked, What offer?

To fuck you.

Seriously, Curt? Did you bump your head on the way over here? How many times do I have to tell you I don’t sleep with married men? Go home to your husband.

Are you sure? Curt asked. I just had my sac, crack, and back waxed. I’m as smooth as a baby’s ass.

Lee’s face automatically scrunched as he pitied the poor soul who’d had to complete that process. As delightful as that sounds, I think I’ll pass, he said. Now please get your foot out of my door before it stays there permanently.

Curt chuckled and removed his foot. Maybe another ti—

Lee slammed the door closed with a thud and sighed. The nerve of that guy. I’m through being nice to him. Besides, if it is true that you are what you eat, he must be a four-cheese lasagna.

Lee shoved his groceries back into the paper sacks and carried everything to the kitchen.

He finished putting it all away, tossed the cucumber into the trash can, twisted off the top of a longneck Bud Light, and tuned his stereo to NPR. Then he kicked off his shoes and sat down at his desk to go through his mail. The top piece was junk mail, and he sighed and took the first draw of the cold brew as he tossed the offending missive into the wastebasket. After putting the bills aside, he discarded more junk mail before encountering an ivory-colored envelope addressed to Master Leeland Jeffers & Guest in elegant calligraphy. When he flipped the envelope over to see the return address, he smiled warmly. Well, whataya know. Finally!

He slid the tip of his Waterford crystal letter opener into the corner of the flap and sliced neatly along the top of the envelope. He sorted through the contents until he found the invitation.

SARA-GRACE LANDON

AND

THORSTEN DEREK MICHAELS

INVITE YOU TO THE CELEBRATION

OF THEIR MARRIAGE

ON SATURDAY THE TWENTY-SEVENTH OF JUNE

TWO THOUSAND AND FIFTEEN

AT THREE O’CLOCK IN THE AFTERNOON

THE MONTECRISTO ESTATES AT PUEBLO BONITO, SUNSET BEACH

CABO SAN LUCAS, MEXICO

After thumbing through the response card, menu selections, and accommodation information, Lee saw a folded piece of paper. He opened it and read a handwritten note.

Lee,

Please please please say you’ll come.

You’ll love Cabo and it will be a great chance for the Party Pak to be together again.

I promise it will be fun.

XXOO Sara-Grace.

Lee slowly put everything back in the envelope and tossed it on his desk. He took another sip of his beer, leaned back in his chair, and closed his eyes. The Party Pak. He hadn’t thought about that name in years. His mind drifted back to his days at Berry College in his hometown of Rome, Georgia, and his close-knit group of friends. Once, someone had referred to them as the Party Pak because they were always together and usually having a great time. The name had stuck, and they’d adopted it for the entire four years of college. He wondered if Nan and Tate had received the same invitation.

Nan Martin, now a professional caterer, had been his best friend and the looker in the group. She always reeked of Jungle Gardenia, and her sometimes blonde, sometimes brunette, and sometimes red hair always complemented her beautiful smile. At the same time, her changing hair color gave their group plenty of material for poking fun at her.

She had also loved to cook, hence the catering, and over their four years together made sure all of them had a home-cooked meal at least once a week. Lee thought if it hadn’t been for Nan, they would all have been either severely overweight from fast food, or nothing but skin and bones from living on ramen noodles.

Tate Edwards, Nan’s husband, had been the pleaser in the group. He was ever so practical and the only one the entire group invariably had trouble talking into joining them in whatever stupid prank they had concocted after a night of drinking. In the end, Tate had always come through and gone along with them, but moaned and bitched the entire time, swearing they