“Where y’all coming from?”
“Work.” I said it flat. No inflection. Prime held my eyes for half a second, read everything he needed to read, and turned back around. That was the thing about my brother. He didn’tneed details. He just needed to know it was handled. And the way I said “work” told him it was.
Zainab looked back at us and smiled. “He’s so nervous. He’s been practicing for months. Wouldn’t let anyone hear the piece until tonight.”
“He’s gonna kill it,” Justice said.
“He better,” Rita said. “I didn’t put on this hat for mediocrity.”
I looked at Prime holding Kheris. At the way she was patting his face with her little palm and he was letting her, smiling at her every time she made contact, like getting slapped by his infant daughter was the highlight of his evening. His other arm was resting on Zainab’s chair, fingers touching her shoulder. It was so natural. Like his body couldn’t be near hers without reaching for her.
And Zainab. Bouncing Idris on her knee, whispering something to him, laughing when he grabbed a fistful of her hair. She had a glow on her that didn’t come from pregnancy or makeup. It came from safety. From being loved right. From finally being somewhere she didn’t have to survive.
Something shifted in my chest. It was like a door rattling on hinges I thought I’d welded shut. Watching my brother hold his daughter like that. Watching him be the father that ours never got a chance to be. The protector. The present one. The one whose kids would grow up knowing what it felt like to be held by a man who meant them no harm.
I looked away. Adjusted my cufflinks. Rolled my wrist.
Good for him. That was his life. His path. Not mine.
The auditorium was filling up fast. Parents filing in with programs and cameras. A little girl in a blue dress ran past our row screaming about forgetting her sheet music. Her father chased after her with the sheet music in his hand, looking like he’d already lived three lifetimes tonight.
I checked my phone. Nothing from Mekhi yet, which meant cleanup was still in progress. Nothing from the warehouse. Nothing from any of the twenty-seven things I was supposed to be monitoring instead of sitting in a folding chair listening to other people’s children murder Chopsticks.
“I’ll be right back,” I told Rita.
I made my way up the aisle toward the back of the auditorium. The bathroom was down a hallway past the administrative offices, one of those narrow school corridors with framed student artwork on the walls and polished linoleum floors. I handled my business, washed my hands, checked my reflection. Suit still crisp. No wrinkles. No evidence. I straightened my tie and stepped out.
And walked directly into Mehar Ali.
Not a gentle brush. Not a polite almost-collision. I’m talking full chest-to-shoulder contact that knocked her back a step and sent her clutch purse to the floor. My fault entirely. I came around the corner without looking because I was checking my phone, which was careless, and I owned that immediately.
“My bad.” I bent down and picked up her purse before she could. Held it out to her. “That was completely on me. Are you?—”
“Do you not have eyes?” She snatched the purse out of my hand so fast you’d think I was trying to steal it. “Or do you just walk through the world expecting everybody to move out of your way?”
I blinked. “Girl, I literally just apologized.”
“You literally just body-checked me in a hallway.” She was looking at me like I’d personally insulted her ancestors. Dark eyes, sharp jaw, that face that would’ve been devastating if it wasn’t currently arranged to commit homicide. She had on a cream-colored cashmere sweater, gold jewelry, heels that put her just below my chin. Her hair was down. The last time I’d seen her was the wedding, and at the wedding her hair had beenpinned up and she’d been laughing. She was not laughing now. But I was almost distracted by the way her jeans fit her curves. Mehar was fine as fuck but baby-girl was just as angry as she was fine.
“I said my bad,” I repeated. “You good?” I looked at her as if she were crazy. Because she was out of her mind to be makin’ a big deal out of me walking into her. Shit, was not that serious.
“I was good until six-two and two-twenty pounds of man came barreling around a corner like he owned the building.”
“I actually don’t own this building. I looked into it. The zoning was a nightmare.”
Nothing. Not a smile. Not a crack. She just stared at me like I was a math problem she didn’t feel like solving.
“Alright then.” I took a step back, gave her space. “Enjoy the recital, Mean-har.”
That landed. I watched her jaw tighten. “What did you just call me?”
“Mean-har.” I slid my hands into my pockets and looked at her sideways. It was kinda cute how angry she was.
“That’s not funny.”
“It’s a lil funny.”
“It’s not.”
