“Ma! It’s the twenty-first century!”
“Oh, she has a ring,” Neev teased, snagging my left hand and waggling it until I yanked it free of her hold.
“It isn’t official. You don’t give away the milk or he won’t want the cow,” Ma said sourly.
“Did you just compare me to a cow?”
“You know what I mean. If I were twenty years younger, I’d be giving away my milk too.”
“MOTHER!” I shrieked again, but she only smiled as she continued forking up her own dinner.
When Stan strolled in, the casserole dish in his hand as he ate straight from it, Ma boasted, “Growing boys need food.”
Stan’s smile was sheepish. “I haven’t eaten since four.”
“It’s six,” Raisin said dryly.
Ma tutted. “Let the boy eat.”
“I’ll leave you girls to it,” he countered with a grin as he strolled toward the bedroom.
“You don’t have to,” Neev called out. “We’re only watching TV.”
“I’d be a fool to disturb a ritual,” he replied. “Enjoy and pretend I’m not here.”
As we glanced between each other, the sound of the TV in my,our, bedroom came on.
“You didn’t tell him we were gathering tonight?” Ma inquired.
“Nah. We haven’t done it since… everything.” I shrugged. “I forgot. It’s a learning curve too.”
“Living with someone is. You girls haven’t reached that phase with anyone yet, but it’s a steep transition and requires a lot of wine and chocolate to ensure patience.” Ma pointed at the TV. “Go on then. Start the damn documentary so we can get it over with.”
Raisin grumbled but did as requested.
Dessert and a bathroom break weren’t the only interruptions, not when Neev spent most of her time talking over the docu as she rated my guards’ hotness out of five. Raisinended up switching onPassion Island, a cooking show where contestants had to make their date a meal before said date picked a ‘winner’ who he’d take away on a two-day vacation to Cancún.
Ma didn’t notice our wide-eyed glances atthat.
The great girls’ night was even better knowing that Stan lived here. That he’d had no problem with it. That he didn’t huff about not knowing that my night was being taken over.
But then… why would he huff?
He was a family man. Hecherishedfamily.
And I was the girl version.
In this, we gelled perfectly.
He only laughed when he stepped out a few times to get a drink and for some ice cream, awwing one time when a contestant started sobbing because her soufflé sank.
Just before midnight, my sisters and Ma disappeared to their own apartments. I slipped into my bedroom and found him in bed, leaning against the headrest, a notepad on his lap and a whole lot of chest on display.
Damn, my man had muscles.
And those tattoos…
I wasn’t sure why he had flowers inked on his skin, but he totally rocked it. They weren’t at all feminine and somehow amped up his own masculinity—because they proved his inherent lack of fucks to give.
