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“You could’ve called and told me you were coming,” she said.

“I wanted to surprise you.”

“Well, you did.”

She stepped aside to let me in, and I walked past her. This was something new for our relationship. She was finally inviting me in. I looked around while she closed the door. I heard the locks again, one after another, but I didn’t say anything else about them. Her apartment looked nothing like mine. Everything in there had a warm, earthy feel to it. The couch was a soft cream color, with brown and olive-green pillows arranged across it. A large rug covered most of the living room floor, and plants sat near the windows and on a wooden shelf beside the television.

There were a few pieces of artwork on the walls, but nothing that made the place feel crowded. It was comfortable, like somebody actually lived there instead of buying a bunch of expensive furniture just to show it off. Music played softly from a speaker near the kitchen. I recognized Erykah Badu’s voice, although I couldn’t tell which song it was. I looked back at Penelope. The décor in her place was really her through and through.

“This is nice,” I complimented.

“Thank you.”

“Nah, for real. You got your place looking good.”

She smiled as she walked past me.

“You sound surprised.”

“I ain’t know what to expect. You’ve been over my place a hundred times, and I’ve never made it past your front door.”

“That’s because you’re always telling me to come over there.”

“Because I like having you over there.”

“And I like being over there,” she said with a flirtatious grin.

“Then we agree.”

She laughed and headed toward the kitchen.

“You want something to drink?” she asked.

“What you got?”

“Water, juice, ginger ale.”

“Ginger ale.”

I followed her into the kitchen and leaned against the counter while she got a glass out of the cabinet. She was wearing a loose T-shirt and leggings, with her hair pulled back from her face. I’d seen her dressed up plenty of times, but I liked seeing her like this too.

“How’s your dad?” she asked, handing me the glass.

“He’s good. He’s getting on everybody’s nerves already.”

“That sounds like a good sign,” she said with a laugh.

“It is. He’s happy to be home, though. We all are.” I took a sip. “The physical therapist comes to the house five days a week now, so he’s still putting in work. We just gotta make sure he doesn’t try to do too much when nobody’s looking.”

“Is he doing that?”

Genuine concern spread across her face.

“Ma stays on him,” I continued. “He listens to her more than he listens to us, so we let her handle it.”

“I’m glad he’s home, MJ.”

“Me too.”