I adjusted Kassim’s little hat while Knuck grabbed the diaper bag and slung it over his shoulder. “You ready?” he asked, standing by the door, looking like he just stepped off a rap album cover with his fine ass.
“As ready as I’m gonna be,” I said. “They’re probably already there.” Outside, it was chilly with puddles of rain from earlier.
Knuck opened the passenger door for me while I got Kassim strapped into his seat. “Aye, you better not start screamin’ in there. Don’t have me out here lookin’ like I don’t run my household.”
Kassim blinked at him like he couldn’t have cared less. I laughed. “He’s not trying to hear you.”
“Yeah, his lil’ ass looks like he's up to somethin’,” Knuck muttered as we climbed into the car.
The restaurant my mother picked was upscale, quiet, and overpriced—her usual style. Velvet booths, gold fixtures, and sharp servers. By the time we arrived, I was starving. Knuck got Kassim out of the carseat and I climbed out of his truck, adjusting my coat on the sidewalk.
“You got him?” I asked.
“Always,” he said, fixing the baby’s hat.
Inside, the vibe was cozy with candles on each table. Soft music playing. Cinnamon in the air. My mother and Carl were already seated. She had on a burgundy wrap dress, curls laid, and jewelry that matched. Carl was in a dark sweater and slacks, casual but clean.
As soon as she saw us, my mom stood up. “Oh my goodness! Look at my grandbaby!” she said, reaching for Kassim like she hadn’t seen him on FaceTime all week. “Carl, look at this little man.”
“He’s fresh, Deb,” Carl said, grinning. “What’s up, y’all?” He kissed my cheek.
Knuck dapped him up. “What’s good?”
My mother gave him a smile. “Hey, baby. You look good.”
“‘Ppreciate it.” As we sat down, Kassim got passed to Carl, and a waitress came to take our drink orders. It was normal for all of three minutes before my mother opened her mouth.
“So,” she said, folding her hands like she was about to give a presentation, her voice careful and a little nervous. “Have we decided on colors? Because I’m thinking ivory, gold, and a soft blush. It’s elegant and giving Springtime.”
Knuck took a long sip of his tequila.“We ain’t pickin’ no colors,” he said flatly.
She blinked. “What?”
“We ain’t doin’ all that,” he repeated. “I keep tellin’ y’all we gettin’ married by the end of next month.”
I stared at him. “Knuck…”
“On everything,” he said, looking right at me. “I want you to be my wifenow, not a year or two from now.”
My mother set her glass down. “Now wait a minute. You’re talking… what?Six weeks, Keon?”
He nodded. “Five and a half. Perfect timin’.”
Carl stayed silent as he rocked Kassim and minded his business, sipping his mimosa. “Nyomi,” my mother said, turning to me. “He’s serious?”
“Very.” I sighed, shoulders heavy, and reached for my water.
“I thought we were planning awedding.”
“We are.”
Knuck jumped in. “Ibeentryna marry you. It’s all this extra shit I’m not on board wit’.”
My mother looked like she was about to go off, which was rare. “Ny, talk to your man.”
“I tried.”
“Keon, she wants the dress, the ceremony, the celebration,” my mother followed up.