“Tyson is a beast though.” I shrug.
He glowers at me. “And he don’t need my old ass to win a championship.” Arnold walks over and daps Jalen up. The two of them catch up for a moment before the Cross family reaches us.
“Mom, Dad, you remember Rome, right? And this, I assume, is his brother Jalen.” Janelle smiles. She greets Jalen and his normally nonhugging ass immediately wraps her up in a hug like he’s known her for years.
“Yes, of course. I forgot there’s two of you though. Good lord, your poor mama,” Mrs. Cross shakes her head. When I met her at the engagement party, she was floored by my and Micah’s height.
When I told her my mom is five-foot-eleven and my dad is six-foot-ten she sent a prayer out for my mom, saying she was brave to be willing to push not one but two big-headed, giant children into this world.
“You’ll have to excuse her. Everyone is tall to her,” Mr. Cross teases. Mrs. Cross stands at about five-foot-three so I’m sure there’s some merit to that.
I cover her hand with mine. “It’s nice to see you again, Mrs. Cross.”
She waves me off with a charming smile. “Oh, please. Deb or Debbie is just fine, baby.” She exchanges pleasantries with Jalen and then we head toward baggage claim.
I trail behind the group, watching the interactions between Janelle and her parents. Her mom constantly frets over her, asking how she’s holding up and wanting details on how the trip’s been so far. She doesn’t outright ask if things are awkward with her and Arnold but her continuous looks over her shoulder at Arnold make it obvious. Her dad seems to notice the hunch in Janelle’s shoulders and pulls her under his arm, testing a bunch of new dad jokes on her, which gets her laughing.
“I don’t know about y’all but I’m starving, and I know y’all wouldn’t wanna see an old man wither away so let’s get a move on.”
“Charles, you act like you didn’t eat a full meal right before we got on the plane and about four bags of pretzels on the plane.”
“I don’t know nothing ’bout that. What I know is I need some food and I need it now.” He pats his stomach for dramatic effect.
“Well, that’s perfect. Arnold and I wanted to take you to lunch before heading to the hotel, anyway.”
Charles stops in his tracks. “Just you and Arnold? You’re not coming, Nugget?” he asks Janelle.
Amerie practically jumps in her dad’s arms, blocking his view of Janelle. “Well, Daddy, it’s just that Arnold and I wanted to treat you and Mommy to a nice lunch before the wedding festivities kick off.”
“Now, Bug, you can still do that with your sister in tow. How you gonna invite us to lunch and not invite your sister? And Rome and Jalen. Y’all must be hungry, too.” The respect I have for Charles Cross instantly goes up a few notches.
“Daddy, don’t worry about it. I’ve got stuff to do anyway so I can’t come.” It kills me to watch her bow down to Amerie’s every whim. If anyone else had pulled half the shit Amerie has, Janelle would’ve destroyed them, so this power Amerie seems to hold over her is unnerving.
“Charles, don’t make a big deal out of it. Janelle doesn’t need this on her plate,” Deb admonishes.
“For fuck’s sake,” Janelle mumbles under her breath.
We hurriedly say goodbye and get the hell out of there. When we get to the car Janelle reaches for the backseat handle.
“Janelle, what the hell are you doing?”
“Getting in the car,” she quips, confusion framing her features.
“I see that. Why are you getting in the back?”
She rolls her eyes. “Because your brother is here now so there’s no reason for me to be up front.”
I place my hand on top of the one she has resting on the door handle and lower my voice so only she can hear me. “Unless I’m laying you down and driving you to the brink of insanity with my dick you should never see the backseat of my car. Get your ass to the front.”
She shivers under my touch, crossing one ankle in front of the other. “Why are you like this?”
“Ask Rochelle Martin.”
She rolls her eyes. “Well, your mama ain’t here so…” She waves her free hand as if that will make me let her go.
I press my body closer into hers. She gasps when she feels my length against her side. “You want me to call her? Put your pretty ass on FaceTime so she can tell you the kind of man she raised?”
“You are not’bout to call your mama on me.”
