I rolled my eyes and opened my mouth just enough to get him out of my face. The cake was actually good as hell, which irritated me even more.
He looked pleased with himself. “See.”
Zahra laughed harder, with one hand over her belly. “You really do think you're a baker now.”
Saint pointed the fork at her. “I am. Baby, this can be my way to get legit.”
“You’re gonna open a bakery now, nigga?” I asked, smirking at him.
He shrugged. “I might. And the chef cooked dinner for y’all tonight.”
I went back to folding. “Okay.”
“I told him to make you something good for the babies, something with all the shit babies need to grow healthy in the womb. Salmon with brown rice, avocado on the side, sweet potatoes. Nuts too.”
My face twisted in disgust. “I do not want that for dinner.”
Saint looked at me like my opinion was decorative. “Good thing I wasn’t asking.”
“Saint!” I whined.
“You're carrying family. Eat what’s good for the baby.”
I stared at him.
He stared right back.
Then he gave me one final nod like the conversation was over and turned toward the door.
“I’m sending it up in a minute,” he said. “Both of y’all better eat itall.”
Zahra looked after him, shaking her head, but she didn’t say a word, as if she knew she didn’t have a choice or an argument that he would listen to anyway.
“I don’t have to listen to you, you know that, right?” I reminded him. “I’m not your wife!”
Saint didn’t even turn around as he left the room. “Bet you betta eat it, though.”
Then he was gone.
The second he was gone, I looked at Zahra and said, “See?That’swhy I have to move.”
A WEEK LATER
13
TARIQ “REEK” HORTON
Climbing out of my ride, the cold hit me hard enough to make me hide behind the collar of my Canada Goose. December had finally settled in for real, and the wind was mean as hell. By the time I stepped into Saint and Zahra’s house and shut that weather out behind me, I was already irritated for no real reason other than the cold always put me in a fucked up mood.
Me and Saint were supposed to just be watching football, having drinks, and talking shit. I had spent the last week out of town handling that shipment in New York, so I was tired and not in the mood to think too hard about any of the bullshit weighing on me. That was hard, though, since I was walking right into the home where my bullshit stemmed from.
Lately, I had been trying not to come over here as much, but Saint made that hard. Ever since we found out Ava was pregnant, it was like Saint invited me over even more. It felt like he was forcing proximity on purpose, like if he kept me close enough, I’d eventually fall in line with whatever version of this situation everybody wanted me to be in.
I let myself in, and when I stepped farther into the foyer, I stopped. There were moving boxes stacked near the wall that hadn’t been there the last time I was there.
I stood there for a second looking at them as I took my coat off.
I went into the den, following the sound of the game. Saint was on the couch with one leg stretched out, drink on the table, and eyes on the TV.
