She walked off so fast that she didn’t notice Sincere blinking owlishly. He looked thrown off, even as he tried to hide it. His father gave him a sympathetic glance as Sincere cleared his throat. “We’ll catch up in a minute,” he told his father.
His father nodded as Sincere guided me back into the party.
“You want a drink?” he asked.
“Please.”
He was clearly caught off guard by his mother, so this must not have been usual behavior for her, so I didn’t bring it up. Instead, we mingled with his cousins and other family members. People joked with Sincere and told me stories about him.
His parents were clearly well off, but not everybody in this house moved like polished suburb money. Some of his family members were still hood as hell. That had to be part of the reason why Sincere was still so down to earth. He knew both worlds. He could sit in a boardroom and speak numbers, then turn around and joke with his cousin who still called everybody “Folks.” It made sense how he found himself associated with the Cartiers.
As the party went on, I needed to use the bathroom.
I leaned toward Sincere. “Where’s the restroom?”
“Down the hall,” he said, pointing. “Second door on the right.”
He started to stand. “I’ll go with you.”
I laughed. “I can make it on my own.”
He leaned back on the couch, but his eyes stayed on me as I headed down the hallway.
Inside the bathroom, I used the toilet, washed my hands, then stared at myself in the mirror. My locs were down, and I had curled them the night before with flexi rods. I wore a fitted black turtleneck bodysuit under a long black blazer that hit mid-thigh. My jeans were dark gray and high-waisted with a slim black belt and a silver Gucci buckle. I had on pointed-toe heelswith a clear strap, and a small black shoulder bag tucked under my arm.
I fixed a few strands near my face, checked my lip gloss, then opened the door.
Sincere’s mother was standing right outside the bathroom. She had that same cold expression she wore when she barely greeted me. For a second I assumed she needed to use the restroom, even though it was her house and she could use any bathroom she wanted.
I stepped aside, but she didn’t move. Instead, she stepped closer and gestured down the hall. “Come with me for a moment.”
I cringed, but I followed her a few steps away from the party until we could hear each other.
“I can tell my son really likes you,” she finally said.
I smiled. “That’s nice to hear.”
“He doesn’t bring many women around the family, so I’m going to be direct.”
My shoulders stiffened, but I stayed respectful. “Okay.”
“What are your intentions with him?”
“My intentions?”
“Yes. What do you want from him?”
It took everything in me to keep my expression respectful. “I care about him. We’re building something. I don’t want anything from him, but... him, I guess.”
Then she started firing questions. “Where are you from? Specifically.”
“Chicago. South East Side.”
“What does your family do? Your parents.”
“My father passed,” I said carefully. “My mother works... a job.” It was getting harder and harder for me to remain gracious.
“And you have children.”
