Page 74 of The Sweetest Return

My Dre, some reckless part of me supplied.

Then he stood.

Mrs. Jones grabbed him first, holding his face between her hands before pulling him into a hug. Dre bent to her, smiling against her hair, and my chest ached so fiercely I had to look down. Mr. Jones hugged him next, one hand wide between Dre’s shoulders, both men holding on for a beat longer than a public room usually allowed.

When Dre finally turned toward the stage, the award lights caught his diamonds.

The earring. The chain. The ring at his pinky.

His hands looked even larger when he accepted the award, one broad palm wrapping around the crystal and dark base like the thing had been made smaller by contact. His watch flashed beneath his cuff. He hugged the MC, stepped behind the microphone, and looked out at the standing room.

Then he looked down at the award in his hand.

My pussy thumped.

Which was deeply unserious.

But there he stood, broad and fine in a tuxedo, diamonds gleaming, beard lined, voice waiting in his chest, holding an award that honored not only what his body had done but who he had fought to become after that body betrayed him.

There were only so many expectations a woman could reasonably place on her body before it rebelled.

Mine had apparently chosen rebellion.

Dre shook his head once and leaned toward the microphone.

“Y’all know I hate this part, right?”

Laughter moved through the ballroom.

The MC called from behind him, “Which is why you’re doing it.”

“See how AWU treats people after they get your money?”

The room laughed harder.

He smiled, and for a second, that was the Dre everyone expected. Charming. Easy. Able to pull the room into his hand without looking like he was trying.

Then the humor softened.

“I’m grateful,” he said. “For this. For AWU. For everybody in this room who had some hand in making this place what it was when I got here and what it still is now.”

The ballroom settled.

“I came to August Wilson at eighteen thinking football was the biggest thing that could ever happen to me.”

His gaze moved across the room.

“I was wrong.”

Something in my chest went quiet.

“Football changed my life. I’ll never disrespect that. It paid for school. Took care of my family. Gave me brothers I’ll have until I’m old and getting on everybody’s nerves.”

Malcolm called out, “You started early.”

Dre pointed toward him. “See?”

The room laughed.