Hasheem was on his feet in a heartbeat. “Come on, babe,” he said, pulling me up from the blanket and looping his arm through mine. His glare swept the circle. “Show’s over. And for the record”—he glanced back at Simone—“I wouldn’t cheat on a Bentley for a broke down Pinto.”
A few people laughed as he guided us out of the lopsided heart of lanterns and fairy lights, away from the cameras and the whispers. Once we were far enough down the beach that the music sounded like a memory, he squeezed and kissed my hand.
“I’m proud of you for telling it yourself.”
“I was not about to let her narrate my mess,” I said. “If it’s gonna be a messy origin story, it’ll be my version not hers.”
He laughed softly as he wrapped me in his arms, and something in my chest eased. It almost felt easy to believe we’d be okay. The fear of what came next was still in the back of my head, but for the first time all weekend, I wasn’t listening to it.
I’d been backfrom Zanzibar for two weeks and still woke up every day, reaching for a woman who had practically ghosted me. When we left Zanzibar, I thought we were good, better than good. Harlowe had fallen asleep on my shoulder on the flight home, drooled a little on my hoodie, and kissed me in front of her townhouse when I dropped her off at home.
I drove home thinking I finally had my girl and life was great. Two weeks later, all I had was a handful of rain checks on hanging out, a couple of “busy” texts, and way too much damn silence. Harlowe hadn’t broken things off. Shehadn’t said muchof anything really. I’d spent years making sure I never lost her as a friend, just to blink and feel like I was losing my friend and my girl in the same sentence. It was crazy, and Sundaydinner at my mom’s house was supposed to be taking my mind off it, but it wasn’t.
The basketball game was on. My nieces and nephews kept showing me shit I didn’t want to see. Mama was in the kitchen throwing down, and Marcus was talking my ear off about some chick he’d met last week. The house was in full motion, like always. I should have been entertained but my head was somewhere on a beach in Zanzibar, in a cave, on a balcony, with Harlowe wrapped in my arms.
“Where Harlowe at?” My mom’s voice cut through my thoughts, like she was reading my damn mind. I looked up and glanced at her. She was standing by the couch with a spoon in her hand, staring me down like she knew something was wrong.
“At home, I guess.” I shrugged, hoping that was a good enough answer even though I knew it wasn’t.
“Boy, don’t play with me. This the second Sunday she’s missed,” she said. “She never misses Sunday dinner. What’s going on, Hasheem?”
I sat up straight and rubbed my hand over my face.Here we go. Harlowe had been a part of our family for so long it was hard not to notice her presence was missing. I got away with ‘she busy’ last Sunday. But two weeks in a row? I already knew Mama was going to be suspicious.
“She had some stuff to handle today, Ma,” I lied and Marcus snorted.
“Yeah, stuff like avoid yo’ big head ass,” Marcus said across from me, making me side eye him. Mama popped him on the back of the head for cursing.
“Something happen?” she pressed. “Don’t tell me y’all finally fell out.”
“You ain’t told her?” Marcus blew out a breath.
“Told me what?” Mama demanded. I let out a long breath before speaking.
“Me and Harlowe crossed a line on that trip,” I said. “We tried being more than friends. And now she ain’t talking to me.”
Everybody went quiet for a second, and Ma’s eyes almost fell out her face.
“Lord, have mercy,” she said, hand flying in the air. “Y’all finally figured it out!”
I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. I guess me and Harlowe were the only ones that had been in denial.
“What you meanfinally?” Marcus cut in, dramatically squinting at her. “So you just cool with him dating my ex?”
“Boy, hush.” Mama swatted at him. “That was puppy love.”
“Puppy love that lasted four years,” he joked. “I’m hurt.”
“If you wanted to keep her, you should’ve acted right back then,” Mama said. “You ain’t. So don’t start crying now ’cause your brother got her.”
I huffed out a laugh. It was funny as hell hearing my mama and Marcus talk about me and Harlowe like we were some reality TV show.
Ma turned back to me. “So if y’all finally got together, why isn’t she talking to you? What you do, boy?”
“I ain’t do nothing,” I said quickly. “I think she just scared.”
“Scared of what?”
I blew out a breath, staring at the TV. “Of losing us . . . our friendship.”
