“A relationship.”
I sipped my cold drink.
“Montana, check this. You, this sweetbébéhere, Wash and his wife meet somewhere like this once a month. Actually eat.” He picked up a fork and sliced into the bread pudding.
“Nah!” My growl slammed through the café. Side chatter stopped, and the server gave me a pleading look.
“Montana,” Zuri whispered at my side.
“He’s got old facts,” I said, “trying to act like he’s been around. Washington and his wife divorced. You know her name?”
Ezekiel lowered his head.
“You know his son?”
“Elijah.” The man nodded, like I gave him something to sink his teeth into. “Now that’s a solid name.”
“Should I”—my jaw flexed—“bring Elijah the next time I come? Even if Wash ain’t interested?”
After a moment, Ezekiel said, “If you can get my eldest son to agree, I’d love to?—”
“Wrong!” I slammed a hand on the table.Crap. My voice raised loud enough to tell everyone their meal was on me. I glared at him again. While my nephew’s name had become obsolete in our family, folks too afraid to sayElijah, I just used thatbébé. I felt foul. This was wrong.
Being here?
Wrong!
I got up and cocked my head. “Zuri, let’s go.”
Her eyes pleaded with me to stay. Panic flashed in them. What was she thinking? Man, this whole situation was a mistake. I’d rather pay up. Give him a few funky-ass millions to ghost me, same he’d done almost all my life.
But I knew where her head was.
Her past.
The foster parents who did a number on her. I raised my black card, and a server grabbed it. She rushed off to pay for all the patrons’ meals while I sat and ate lunch with my father.
Zuri gave me a look of appreciation. My mouth, already flexed in anger, tugged into a grin.No. Thank you, chère. Coz you gonna pay up when we get home.
zuri
. . .
Tonight, I lathered on cocoa butter and tugged into fuzzy pajamas.
I glanced over my shoulder. Had to remember that, after four years with my baby roomie, Darius was asleep in the other guestroom. I’d slept so well last night—nice … warm … cozy.
Thankfully, Montana hadn’t come in before the move. That dang kid had us sleeping in a waterbed again. He must’ve peed every couple of seconds, because urine samples cooled within minutes, and I’d felt warm.
I placed the lotion next to my calendar of Fake Dating Doom. Wait? I didn’t mark today’s date.
I crossed out today’s date, February 6th, and then propped the calendar against the magenta woman. Madison’s art. Though I tried not to, I turned to another page in the calendar and found the contract. I’d tucked it inside the calendar days ago. To preserve it? Maybe. As I picked up the half-torn paper, a knock at the window made me jump.
Rip.
Growling, I threw the pieces into my purse.
I sauntered to the window and shoved it open. “I haven’t evenput on my fuzzy socks. My feet are cold, Montana. What do you want?”
