“Great. Take a seat and let me fix you a bowl. Do you like cornbread?”
“Sweet or salty?”
“I like mine sweet.”
“Me too.”
When I entered the kitchen, I changed the radio station. A song asking about what the lonely did for Christmas rang through the speakers.
How appropriate.
“There’s something about those depressing songs that gets you every time.” Amari walked his bowlegged self toward me, reminding me of a cowboy ready to mount his horse.
I quickly lowered my eyes to the sink and washed my hands. Amari’s arm touched mine as he stood next to me and lifted his arms to wash his hands on the other side of my sink. When I looked at the spot that he brushed and back into his eyes, he grinned.
“Sorry about that.”
“It’s fine. My kitchen’s a little tight.”
“It’s cozy.”
Amari’s voice drew me in as much as the melodious notes in the song.
I nodded, then moved to the stove with our bowls in hand, scooping chili in each one and setting them on the round woven placements on my table.
He leaned against the counter.
“It’s hard being single at Christmas,” he said in a quiet voice.
“What’s that?”
He pointed to the radio. “That song. It’s hard being single at Christmas.”
“Oh, right, yeah.” I stumbled over my words, not quite sure what to say in response.
I picked up a piece of cornbread on a small plate for Amari.
“Dinner’s ready.”
We sat at my humble kitchen table that seated two people. Amari reached for my hand so we could pray, taking me to those nightly prayers I lifted up for him.
“Lord, bless this food and fellowship. Please show us what we need from each other to have a Merry Christmas. Amen.”
“Amen.” I spoke the word slowly as countless questions flooded my mind.
What did he mean by such a specific prayer?
I broke off a piece of cornbread and scooped it onto my plate, munching and taking in the fullness of the only man who’d been in this house since my philandering ex messed over my life over five Christmases ago.
Chapter
Three
AMARI
OPEN INVITATION
When Ruby Starks invited me into her private world, I entered it cautiously. That wasn’t easy for me, given the fresh, fruity scent that engulfed her and had me wanting to embrace her like she was a long-lost lover. The way she held her robe tightly with one hand pulled me in, too, making me want to peek at what was beneath her veil, yet tiptoe respectfully around her fragile world.
