"Sounds about right for our lives lately."
"Right," Deva offered me a small smile.
I studied Deva's face as she sighed and rubbed her nose. The flickering candlelight cast a warm, golden glow on her ebony skin, highlighting the frustration in her eyes.
"I'm just so overwhelmed." She looked down at the papers scattered across the table. "Even though the repairs have been going smoother than I expected, there's always something else to worry about."
"Like what?" I asked, scooting my chair closer.
"Like..." she hesitated for a moment, clearly struggling with whether or not to share her thoughts. "Like how Marquis talked to the other warlocks about not listening to me when it comes to my own life and my own business. I mean, he meant well, but it'sfrustrating that they listened to him instead of me. I'm the one who built this place from the ground up, and yet they won't take me seriously."
A pang of empathy resonated within me. As a black woman and a business owner, Deva had faced countless challenges and barriers that I couldn't even begin to understand. It wasn't fair that she also had to fight for her voice to be heard among our own kind.
"Deva, listen to me," I said, placing my hand on her arm. "You've done an incredible job with this place. It's your hard work and determination that made it what it is today. You're a strong, independent woman who built this business from the ground up."
I looked around at the dimly lit, yet cozy restaurant, taking in the warm glow of the candles flickering on the tables. Despite the turmoil Deva faced, her restaurant was still a welcoming oasis, or it would be soon.
"Remember when you first started?" I continued, recalling the early days. "It was just you, a few recipes, and a dream. Look where you are now. This place is amazing, and it's all because of you."
Deva let out a small laugh, shaking her head. "Yeah, I guess you're right. I did do all of this, didn't I?"
"Damn right you did," I said, slapping my hand on the table for emphasis. "Don't you forget it."
Deva's expression shifted as she stared into the distance. "You know what? You're absolutely right. I built this business with my own two hands, and now someone's trying to take it from me.But I won't let them. I won't let anyone, warlock or otherwise, mess with what I've created."
Deva's jaw set and eyes blazed. "And if I’m going to face my life problems, I may as well face themall. Let's go talk to Harry," she declared.
"Are you sure about this?" I asked hesitantly, my stomach churning at the thought of facing Deva's ex-husband. The man was a whole bundle of unresolved issues, and I wasn't entirely convinced that confronting him would end well.
"Positive," she said. "It's time to clear the air, for both our sakes." With that, she snuffed out the candle on the table and began locking up the restaurant.
As we stepped outside, the early night air wrapped around us like a cool, comforting blanket. The moon hung low in the sky, casting an eerie glow over the quiet street. Despite the soothing atmosphere, my anxiety spiked as we climbed into Deva's car.
The silence during the drive was thick enough to slice through with a knife. The tension in the car was palpable as we approached Harry's house. I fidgeted with my sleeves, trying to ignore the nagging worry in my stomach and failing miserably. The run-in earlier that day had shaken me more than I cared to admit, and now we were about to face him again on his own turf.
I swallowed hard. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"
She nodded firmly, her jaw set. "It has to be done. We need answers."
"Right." I attempted to bolster my own courage. "Answers. Got it."
After a minute, she continued more quietly. “I’m never going to be able to move on or have any chance of things going well with Marquis if my ex still has his claws in me. I need to cut all the strings with Harry, for myself, for my future, and if I have any hope of romance in my life.”
She was right. I remember how good it felt when my ex was no longer a frog, and we could actually put things behind us. It didn’t mean I liked him, or completely forgave him, but I needed to feel at peace with our situation, if only for myself.
My phone buzzed. I swiped to see photos of engagement rings from my son.
I squealed, then regretted it, but Deva was grinning. “What is it?”
My nose wrinkled. “This may very well be the worst time ever…”
“Out with it.”
Sighing, I showed her. “Engagement rings from my son. He wants my opinion.”
She grinned. “Well, give it to him! And if you let him buy that third one, the one that’s ugly as sin, I’ll never forgive you.”
I laughed and texted him back, not telling him that any of them were ugly, but picking out my favorites. Then, I reminded him that he was an amazing man. She would be lucky to have him, and she’ll love whatever he picked out. When I was done, I put away my phone and focused on my friend and the earth-changing thing we were about to do.
