Five minutes later, I was back in the doorway. I didn’t want her to overwork herself or try to impress my father, but she was adamant about my not helping. Once again, she pointed at the living room without turning around. I went back.
My father watched the second redirect from his chair with his bourbon and said nothing. But the corner of his mouth moved.
Karyn asked about the penthouse. The view. The decor. The questions of a woman taking inventory. Coco came in to refresh drinks mid-conversation, answered everything graciously, and went back to her kitchen without leaving Karyn anything to build on.
Dinner was everything she’d promised, but I had no doubts.
The prime rib came out perfect, and the reduction she’d been working on all afternoon pooled alongside it on the plate. The au gratin was rich and layered, the roasted vegetables beautiful and charred, sitting alongside everything. She’d thought about every detail. My father cut into another piece and went quiet.
“Colecion,” he said after a moment. “This is exceptional.”
“Seriously, Coco, it is. I thought we’d be having fried chicken and greens.”
Coco scoffed, and my hand went to my hip. That was the rudest shit, and I almost shot this bitch on principle. Coco placed a hand on my arm.
“Karyn, that’s your last chance playing with me and trying to insult me. Let’s enjoy dinner before I unleash my husband on his father's special friend.”
Coco tucked a piece of hair behind her ear with a wink. Her diamond sparkled, and Karyn was infuriated and lucky at the same time. I relaxed and looked at my father, silently telling him to get his bitch on a leash.
“How did you learn how to cook like this, young lady?”
“My mother taught me before she passed. As a kid, it was survival; now it’s something I enjoy.”
“My condolences. Elaborate on survival. I don’t know your story, Coco. Is it okay if I call you that?” he asked, looking between us.”
“Nah, it ain’t,” I replied, and she swatted at me.
“Mr. Grimson, Coco is fine. And to answer your question my mom battled cancer most of my teen years. I’ve been on my own for a long time.”
My father set his fork down. Not dramatically. Just set it down and looked at her.
“You've been on your own since a teen,” he said.
“All alone, but it made me who I am. No pity, please.” She met his eyes. “I put myself through school, built my business, handled everything that needed handling.” A slight lift at the corner of her mouth. “I'm good at figuring things out.”
The table was quiet for a moment. Karyn reached for her wine. My father looked at me and then back at Coco. His expression had shifted, measured, the way he looked at people he’d underestimated.
“Accept my apologies, Colecion.”
“For?”… “Oh, you’re his father, it’s water under a bridge.”
“I appreciate that,” he said. “But hear it from me it wasn't a slight.”
“I know what it was.” Coco set her glass down. “You wanted to know who you were dealing with. I understand that. But Mr. Grimson, with respect, I didn’t marry your son for access or financial security. I’ve been my own security since I was a teenager, standing in a hospital watching my mother lose a fight neither of us could stop, making decisions no child should have to make.” She looked at him steadily. “Might I add he kicked down my door.”
My father looked at her for a long moment. Then he picked his fork back up. “Good,” he said simply.
That was Legend Grimson's version of an apology and a blessing delivered at the same time, and everybody at the table understood it.
Everybody except Karyn, who smiled tightly and reached for the bread.
We moved to the dessert. Coco had made a Biscoff cheesecake that had my father reaching for a second slice before she’d finished cutting the first round. That was all the approval she needed, and she knew it.
That’s when the buzzer went off.
Malice’s voice came through the intercom, tight. “Boss. You need to come down. Swine in the lobby. Two of them. Say it’s urgent.”
I looked at my father. He was already setting his napkin on the table.
