#SampleSunday: Missing Persons- "I'm man enough to know two things..."
Welcome back to another Sample Sunday… potentially the last Sample Sunday before Missing Persons drops!
Missing Persons is a romantic mystery that follows private investigator Yvette Young and attorney Wesley Payne as they navigate a complex case…and their even more complicated feelings for each other.
Yvette has spent three years building walls around her heart after losing her fiancé. Wesley has spent those same three years waiting patiently in the wings, hoping she'll eventually let him in. In this scene, some liquid courage finally gives Yvette the push she needs to confront some hard truths about what she wants and what she's been too afraid to admit.
Fair warning: things get a little heated (emotionally speaking). Pour yourself a glass of something strong and settle in.
Happy Sunday!
WESLEY
The familiar sounds of the TV clicking through channels drifted back to me as I cooked and drained the pasta and plated our dinner. We moved to the living room, settling into the oversized leather couch I'd splurged on. Yvette balanced her plate on her knees and loaded up a fork.
“This is so good,” she said around a mouthful of pasta. “Your sauce has gotten better. Must be taking notes when Mama Payne cooks.”
“I choose to take that as a compliment.”
She gestured at the house with her fork. “Nice place, good job, can burn up a kitchen. Why aren't you married yet, Wesley Payne?”
The scotch was loosening her tongue. I recognized the faint slur riding her words.
“I'm not the one holding up that show.”
Her eyes dropped to her plate. “Shots fired. Center mass.”
“You asked a question you already know the answer to, Yvette.”
She didn't respond—unless swirling the scotch in her glass was supposed to say something.
“You doing alright over there? With the drink?” I asked gently, not just as a formality but because I remembered the way her face had crumpled the last time I saw her drunk.
She nodded. “Bringing back memories of the last time I drank and said too much.”
Her lips flattened into a line as she nudged the glass back and forth. The ice cubes shifted. I felt the memory unfolding, enveloping her.
“I yelled at his mother about not talking him out of going to Afghanistan. Had a screaming, crying breakdown like I was the only person that ever lost someone. In front of people that had known him his entire life. I was so…selfish and emotional.”
Her voice was steadier than I expected, but her hands betrayed her. The left one clenched, the right one fidgeted with the edge of the paper napkin I'd handed her.
“Got carried out of repast,” she recalled. “It was not my finest moment.”
“I was the one who carried you out,” I said, hoping the words were a comfort and not a reprimand. “That's what made you cut back?”
“That and the three-day hangover.” She held out her glass. “Another?”
“Vette.” I stared her down, brows riding high. “You're grown and all, but you're not leaving here drunk.”
“I know. I'm okay.”
I poured her another scotch, smaller than the first.
“I still dream about him,” she confessed quietly, taking the second glass. “I wake up feeling so guilty.”
“About?”
She stared into the amber liquid. “That some days I don't think about him at all. That I kissed you and it felt...” Yvette stopped herself, shaking her head. I watched her try to keep her emotions at bay but losing the battle. “The other night...at my office.”
My heart kicked against my ribs. “What about it?”
“All I have been able to think about is that I really want to kiss you again…but….”
“But…”
“I used to feel like I was betraying him,” she said, the words spilling over each other. “Especially when you and I were working together and he was off in some godforsaken location, stuck under a vehicle in the elements, covered in motor oil and I was at... like...the Heidelberg Marriott, having a glass of wine with a handsome, sexy superior officer who was rumored to be an amazing fuck. And who had made it clear he was attracted to me.”
I had to force myself to breathe normally. In my peripheral vision, I noticed two peaks under her blouse. They weren't the only body parts rising to the occasion.
“Yvette…we—”
“I know,” she said cutting me off. “I had to get drunk to say this and now you have to wait for my ass to cut the check my mouth is writing.” She squinted, shaking her head. “That made sense before I said it. Something to think about, though?”
Yvette stuck her tongue out to swipe it across her bottom lip, then scooted even closer to me. “I should feel guilty about how wet that kiss made me. About the things I did in my bed while thinking about you kissing me again. Doing…all kinds of things to me.” She shook her head. “I don't, Wesley.”
I set my glass down before I dropped it. The confessions I hadn't expected to hear from her hit me like a physical blow, every nerve in my body firing at once.
Yvette was close enough that I could smell her perfume. And the scotch on her breath. She pressed even closer, her hand on my chest, fingers spread wide across my cotton t-shirt. Her body was so heated, I felt her temperature through the cloth, and the slight tremor in her touch that had nothing to do with how much she had drank.
I pulled her close to me, dropping a kiss on her cheek. She clung to me, her face buried against my neck. Then I felt wetness on my skin.
Not the loud, dramatic sobs I'd witnessed at Jason's funeral, but a quiet shedding of tears. I held her tighter, one hand stroking her back in slow circles. “Hey. Talk to me, Vette.”
She buried her face against my shoulder. “I'm sorry,” she whispered.
“What you sorry for? Feeling something? Being human?”
“For being such a mess.” She lifted her head, swiping her fingertips under her eyes. “For wanting you and missing Jason and hating myself for wanting you while I miss Jason.”
“You're not a mess. You're human with a heart and mind and feelings and that's a lot going on. I get that.”
I brushed a tear from her cheek. “Jason would want you to be happy. I'm not just saying that shit because you being happy means me getting something I've wanted for a long time. If it wasn't me, it would be somebody. It should be somebody.”
“Maybe he's up in heaven cussing both of us out.”
I laughed at that. “Now you know that ain't Jason, because he loved you down, girl. And people who love you want you to live, not just exist. If Jason's up there cussing anybody out, it's not because you're moving on. It's because I took too damn long to make my move.”
She pulled back to look at me, eyes still glassy. “You…think he knew?”
I smirked. “Baby, pretty sure everybody knew then. Just like everybody knows now. But he also knew that if something happened to him, he'd want someone who actually gave a damn about you to be in your life. That's why I landed here in Atlanta. I figured you'd come home after you got out."
She was silent for a long time. Then she asked, "Am I ever going to not feel like I'm cheating on him?"
"Yeah. And there's no timetable for that. I'm man enough to know two things can be true--you can love and miss Jason, and…" I smiled. "You can wonder about the things I plan to do to you when you're not drunk."
Coming soon! Cover reveal, ARC signups, pub date!
Meet Wesley | Meet Yvette