But what threw me off was that later that day, when Malik went to work, I got invited to a Delacroix event with no return address on the envelope…
CHAPTER 50
Emily
“Peace Never Lasts Long”
Saturday afternoons were my favorite. No business calls. No security meetings.
No men talking about money or power in the next room.
Just home.
We had been back for a couple of weeks now, but I had to admit, I missed France.
Zay stood over the stove like a chef, stirring the pot with a wooden spoon while the smell of roux filled the entire house.
Real Creole gumbo.
His grandmother’s recipe.
And he took that recipe seriously.
“You’re burning the roux,” I teased from the counter.
He didn’t even look at me. “I’ve been making this longer than you’ve been eating it.”
“That’s not true. We’re the same damn age, boy.”
He lifted the spoon and pointed it at me. “Woman, if you make me mess up this gumbo, we’re gonna have problems.”
I laughed.
Lil Zay ran through the kitchen, holding one of his toy cars and making engine noises as he crashed it into the cabinet legs.
The house felt warm.
Music played softly from the speaker on the counter.
Some old school R&B Zay liked to cook to.
He moved around the kitchen like he had the entire recipe memorized in his bones.
Shrimp.
Sausage.
Crab.
Okra.
He tossed ingredients into the pot like a man conducting an orchestra.
“You remember the order?” he asked me.
I leaned against the counter, sipping my drink. “Garlic, onions, celery… then sausage before the seafood.”
He nodded proudly. “See. You’re paying attention.”
