“Nick did take a taxi too?” Mommy asks, surprised.
“N-no, he was driving, and then Mr. Perry’s tire burst and—” she interrupts me.
“He came to fix the tire. Hey! Nickoi is a good bwoy enuh,” she chuckles, glancing back at the stove.
I smile awkwardly. “Yes.”
“I met your mom at the subway station,” he shares with me.
Okay…
She smiles at him. “When you sat down and were watching me while reading this big ol’ newspaper that you know damn well you never wanted to read.”
Mommy is smitten. She has the same sparkle in her eyes that Nickoi has when he looks at me. Wow, Daddy really is too late. He should have stepped up.
“I was watching you while pretending to read,” he admits with a shy smile.
Oh, he’s smiling now? Good to know. Maybe I’m the problem. Maybe he just doesn’t like me.
“That’s really nice,” I reply simply, watching them reminisce about their euphoric moments.
NICKOI
Denique’s been guiding me through the whole process. Her eyes linger on me when she thinks I’m not looking. Her smile stretches a little too long for just business. Every time she talks about the land, it’s like she’s seeing more than just property.
Every gyal want yuh enuh,my subconscious whispers.
True. But a only one woman mi want.
We know this.
We’ve completed all the necessary land assessments. The location is perfect, and everything seems to be falling into place. She informs me that we’re down to the final document, but her tone changes.
“One signature is still needed.”
I lean in. “Who needs to sign it if Rodriguez is dead?”
She begins typing and dialing. I glance down at the video Zara sent of the babies playing, and warmth fills my chest. I quickly reply with two red hearts.
Then Denique’s voice pulls me back.
“He died?” she asks softly into the phone. “When?”
Silence hangs heavily between us. After a long pause, she hangs up, her face drained of color. “I had no idea… he was murdered,” she whispers, reaching for a tissue as if she has just received the news herself.
I try not to seem indifferent, but how could she not know that her business partner was murdered five years ago? Still, I let her speak. She starts reminiscing about how good he was, and with each word, my stomach twists. There’s something familiar in her tone, something familiar about the name.
“But there’s one more person who can sign… his niece.” I look up, maintaining my composure.
“Who is she?”
“Nathalia Perez.”
My blood runs cold.
Talia?
Nah, mi cyaa believe this.
