The table went quiet, the weight of that settling over them. Her mind was foggy with all of it.
She shrugged as the server appeared, setting down plates of food. Shrimp and grits steaming, waffles stacked high, omelets dripping cheese.
The woman smiled politely. “And Miss Walters, this meal has been paid for in full for the whole table. Mr. Pracher took care of it.”
Kennedi froze. “I’m sorry, what? Which Mr. Pracher?”
“Rolani. He said you and your girls eat free every time you come through.”
The girls’ heads snapped up in unison before the table erupted again.
Shadow’s cackle cut the air first. “Not the family and friends discount!”
“It’s not like that.”
“Not like that?” Isha's eyebrows shot up. “Okay, he's already applying pressure. Good luck, girl. You in danger.”
Kennedi stabbed a shrimp and said nothing.
Six minutes of almost normal. Then the front door opened, and the energy in the restaurant shifted like someone had tilted the whole building two degrees.
She didn't see him at first. She felt him.
Shadow saw him before Kennedi could turn around. Her fork froze halfway to her mouth. "Oh shit."
“What?” Kennedi asked, already knowing.
“Don’t turn around,” Carmen said calmly, which meant it was already too late.
Kennedi turned around anyway and found Rolani standing at the hostess stand in a gray hoodie, dark jeans, and black Timbs, talking to the manager with one hand in his pocket and the other holding a folder. Business. He was here on business.
For a moment, she thought she was safe. He hadn’t seen her. He was focused, nodding at the manager. Then the manager pointed toward the dining room, and Rolani’s eyes followed and swept the booths.
He found her in two seconds flat.
Everything on his face changed. The business expression dissolved. What replaced it was layered and impossible to read from across a restaurant. She saw surprise first, brief and genuine. Then something harder settled in. His eyes moved from her face to the booth full of women who had gone dead silent, then back to her.
His thumb dropped from his lip. He said something to the manager without looking at him, handed off the folder and keys, and started walking toward their table.
“Everybody act normal,” Carmen said, which was the most useless instruction anyone had ever given because not a single woman at that table was breathing normally.
Kennedi straightened in her seat and pulled her blazer tighter across her midsection. Five months. She was five months pregnant with this man’s child, and he was walking toward her.
He stopped at the edge of their booth. Shoulders blocking the overhead light, cologne finding her nose and settling there.
“Ladies,” He said lowly. “Sis.”
“Hey, Ro,” Paige said carefully, the only one who could manage casual.
He wasn’t looking at any of them. His eyes were on Kennedi.
“Mrs. Pracher.”
Carmen and Isha spit out their water with a snicker.
“Rolani, hey.” Her voice came out steadier than she felt. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”
“I’m always here.” Simple. Factual. Luther’s was his brother’s restaurant, and he’d been holding it down. She’d walked into histerritory and thought she could eat in peace. “Let me holla at you for a minute.” He extended his hand.
