“Are you sure you ain’t let Mr. Pilot knock you up?”
“Girl, I take my birth control religiously, and neither of us is ready for kids.”
“Oh, but you’ve talked about it. Do tell.”
“There’s nothing to tell. I mean, we’ve talked about the future, so of course, having kids came up.”
“Are y’all official?”
“He told me my pussy was his, and I told him as long as he knows who his dick belongs to, we good.”
“I know that’s right! I love to see it.”
“Honestly, I like him . . . a lot, but I don’t want to rush. That’s where I went wrong with Harlan?—”
“Aside from the fact that he was a lame and not the man for you,” she interrupted.
“True, but I was in such a rush to define what we were, I missed or ignored the red flags. When I reflect, I think he made things official to appease me, and I wasted two years of my life that I can’t get back.”
“Think of it as a learning experience and apply what you learned where it’s needed with Sylas.”
“Girl, Harlan and Sylas are nothing alike. It’s been a blessing that our schedules haven’t been in sync because it’s forced us to communicate more. I’ve learned more about Sylas in a month than I learned about Harlan in two years.”
“Which means he’s learned just as much about you, and if he’s still around, he’s obviously smitten.”
I gasped and put my hand over my chest, pretending to be offended.
“Whatchu trying to say, sis?”
“I mean, we all got our weird shit about us, and clearly, Sylas likes your weird shit. This is very promising.”
“It is, but I’m hungry. Are we ordering in or going out?”
“Let’s order in and binge-watchHarlem,” she suggested.
We ended up ordering pizza and chicken wings. By the time our food was delivered, we were showered and in our pajamas. About halfway through the first season, Sylas called, and I got butterflies when I saw his name flash across my screen.
“Pause it. I’ll be right back,” I told Mena with a grin.
“Oh my God. Look at you all giddy. Go talk to your man, girl.”
On the way to my bedroom, I answered his FaceTime.
“Hey.”
“Hey, beautiful. I miss you.”
“You just saw me.”
“That doesn’t matter. I missed you as soon as I left. What are you up to?”
“Mena is spending the night, and we’re watchingHarlem. How was your flight?”
“Smooth sailing. I’m in the crew lounge at Miami International, waiting to fly to New York because the plane was delayed. I’ll stay in New York overnight, then head back to Miami in the morning, and back to Chicago for the night.”
“How long will you be in Chicago?”
“Just overnight. I think I fly to Dallas the afternoon after that, but I haven’t looked at that route too closely yet. One day at a time, baby.”
