Page 45 of The Sweetest Return

“I ain’t say nothing.”

“Your face loud.”

“Your whole body loud, nigga.”

Tee looked over, followed my line of sight, and gave a low whistle.

“Damn.”

I handed Malcolm my glass.

He took it and looked at me. “For real?”

“Hold this.”

“Panther done spotted the gazelle.”

I turned my head slowly.

“Call that woman a gazelle again and I’m beating your ass.”

Tee choked on his drink.

Malcolm laughed. “See? Emotional already.”

“Move.”

“I’m not in your way.”

“You about to be.”

He stepped aside, still laughing.

I took my time crossing the room.

A few hands reached for mine. Somebody called my name. One older alum touched my shoulder and started telling me something about Friday night. I stopped long enough to answer because my mama had not raised me to act like everybody else disappeared because one woman walked into a room.

Even if that was exactly what it felt like.

I gave people enough not to be disrespectful, then kept moving.

Toward her.

I had waited eight years.

Another thirty seconds wasn’t going to kill me.

Probably.

From across the room, I had thought I was ready. Up close, readiness became a generous description.

Her lips were glossy. Soft. Pretty enough to make a bad decision feel reasonable. Gold hoops brushed beneath her braids, and diamonds moved at her wrist every time her fingers shifted around the stem of her champagne glass. The silk left enough of her back bare to remind me of things my hand still knew, even after all this time.

Then her perfume reached me.

Sweet. Expensive. Imani.

My chest tightened.