“I rarely come here, so this is a real treat,” Evie said, biting into a pillowy, powdered-sugar-covered beignet.
Bryson couldn’t help but watch as her tongue licked a bit of sugar from the corner of her lip. He had to look away. He could not entertain the thought that rushed into his brain with his parents sitting at the same table.
“I have them every chance I get,” his mother said. She took a sip of her decaf café au lait and looked back and forth between Bryson and Evie. “So, you and Bry went to LSU together?”
“Bryson was two years ahead of me, but we were there at the same time. We also volunteered at an animal rescue here in New Orleans one summer.”
The fact that she didn’t mention Cameron and how he was connected to both of them thrilled Bryson. He wanted Cameron Broussard to stay in the rearview mirror, right where his ass belonged.
As he observed his mother and Evie chatting about an upcoming Broadway show heading to the Saenger Theater, Bryson was even happier that he’d asked her to join them. They got along as if they were old friends instead of strangers who’d known each other for all of an hour.
One of the fire-engine-red Canal Street streetcars made the corner and pulled in next to the coffee stand.
“That is the quintessential New Orleans portrait,” Evie said, holding her hands out in front of her as if making a picture frame. “It’s even prettier when the azaleas are in bloom. Although, the azaleas aren’t nearly as stunning as your camellias.”
“You’ve seen my camellias?” his mother asked.
“I brought Evie with me when I went down to speak at Southwest Terrebonne High,” Bryson said.
“You did!” His mother’s eyebrows reached her hairline. She smiled. It was that cagey smile, the one that told Bryson her brain was cooking up something. “Well, he needs to bring you back when the rest of the family is there.” She bumped his dad with her elbow. “Maybe we can have a crawfish boil, Wallace.”
Pop nodded and garbled something that sounded like “yes” as he chomped on his second order of beignets.
“It’s been even longer since I had boiled crawfish,” Evie said.
“That settles it.” His mother slapped the table, and Bryson knew for certain that there would be a crawfish boil in theirnear future. When Stella Mitchell got that gleam in her eyes, there was nothing stopping her.
“I hate to break this up, but it’s getting pretty late,” Bryson said. “We need to bring Evie and Waffles home before we get to the condo.”
“I hate that you’re right, but you are,” his mother said. They rose from the table and piled into his Jeep. Once they arrived at Evie’s, his mother insisted on getting out of the car to give Evie a hug.
“It was so nice meeting you,” his mother said. “You need to come out to the bayou soon.”
“I promise I will,” Evie said.
Knowing that his mother’s questions would come rapid fire if he didn’t preempt them, Bryson filled the conversion with talk of this latest cruise. By the time they arrived at his condo, he’d heard about every meal and port of call and knew the names of the cruise director’s three children.
His stonewalling lasted until the end of the tour of the condo. The moment they were done, his mother said, “So, Evie is delightful. And gorgeous. She looks creole.”
“I didn’t ask for her DNA profile, but I’ll be sure to do that next time I see her.”
“Don’t be a smart-ass,” his mother said. “How serious is this?”
“Don’t start, Ma.”
She plopped her hands on her hips. “I absolutely will start. Do you know how many nights I have prayed that you would find someone after you broke up with that Alyssa girl? If I’d known Evie back when you both were in school, I would have been praying for her from the get-go.”
Bryson silently acknowledged that if he’d had theopportunity to introduce her to his parents back when they were in school, he probably wouldn’t have. The admission settled in his gut like a bitter pill. He would never forgive himself for hiding his background and his family the way he had.
He walked over to his mother and gave her a kiss on the forehead.
“Evie and I are really good friends. If it develops into something more, you will be the first to know.”
In his head and in his heart, they were already a lot more than he was letting on, but that information would be shared on a need-to-know basis, and the only people who needed to know that right now were himself and Evie.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Bryson had attended his share of ritzy gatherings over the years. One of his colleagues on the team at Tuskegee was renowned for his elaborate dinner parties and department soirees. But as he stood next to a wall of cascading ruby-red roses that flowed into a swimming pool strewn with the same roses, along with heart-shaped floating candles, he felt safe in saying that this was, by far, the ritziest shindig he’d ever attended. A mix of round tables with chairs draped with elegant sashes, red velvet couches, and gold velvet settees occupied the space around the pool and throughout the Williams’s backyard.
