I watched Stella’s face move through the shock and land somewhere that looked too much like judgment for my comfort. “I knew Nel was part of the LGBTQ community,” she said, her voice pulling tight. “But not you.”
Nique read it the same way I did. She didn’t flinch.
“Yeah well Stella, you don’t know much about me anyway.”
Stella’s mouth opened and closed once before she pressed her lips together, her eyes going glassy. Wendell reached over and put his hand on top of hers but she didn’t move. She just sat there absorbing it, and something about the way she took it without defending herself told me she knew Nique was right. She didn’t have a rebuttal because there wasn’t one.
The second course arrived under a heavy cloud, but by the time the fourth course was cleared, the wine and tequila had done their job to blur the sharpest edges of the conversation. Stella had retreated into a quiet, observant shell, only speaking when Tevin pulled her into the conversation.
I spent most of the meal watching Nique. The tension in her shoulders had finally started to ease, mostly because of Whitley. The girl was relentless with questions about Nique’s business, her life in Mobile, her favorite music, and instead of shutting down Nique answered with a patience and warmth that made something tighten in my chest. That was the version of her most people never got to see. The soft one. The one she only showed when she felt safe.
By the time the dessert plates were cleared the room had loosened into laughter and comfortable exhaustion.
London stood and tapped her glass. Her waves were starting to lose their battle with the humidity but she still looked radiant.
“I hope you all enjoyed dinner. If any of you are night owls please join Eli and me in the lobby for karaoke.”
The younger end of the table cheered.
I was already pushing my chair back when Amina’s voice came in low beside me.
“Will you walk me to my room?”
“My mom is headed back that way. Walk with her and my aunts,” I said, keeping my voice even.
“I feel safer with a man.”
“My uncles are with them.” I nodded toward Kurtis and Elliot already on their feet adjusting their jackets. “The whole group is covered.”
Amina’s sweetness evaporated. “What’s so important that you can’t walk the mother of your child to her room?”
I leaned in, keeping my voice low.
“Amina, we might have shown up at the airport together but we are not here together. I’m here to celebrate my cousin. I’m not here to cater to you.”
Her mouth opened. I kept going.
“I have a lot of respect for you because you’re a good mother to Demi. But that’s where it starts and ends. We co-parent. That’s it.”
Her face cycled through about three shades of frustration before she snatched her clutch off the table and disappeared into the crowd moving toward the villas without a single word.
I exhaled and felt a thousand pounds lift off my shoulders. Across the table Nel caught my eye and gave me a slow approving nod that said everything without saying anything at all.
Chapter seventeen
The Pull
What was supposed to be karaoke was more like shots and shit talking, but it was cool with me because I needed the laughs and the distraction.
I had done my best to be cordial with Stella at dinner for Nel’s sake. After the court mess, once I got settled at his place, I found out he wanted to rekindle with her because he kept having dreams that she died. He said the scenario was always different. Sometimes she was sick, another time she got shot, but each time he woke up feeling horrible because he hadn’t tried to forgive her or get to know her. It made me think about howI would feel if Stella died. Even the thought didn’t sit right, so I was trying.
Now that the old heads had turned in for the night the air in the lobby felt lighter. More dangerous.
“Man, them showers are perfect for fucking,” Kam drunkenly blurted out, sinking back into the plush velvet sofa. “Too bad this resort is full of family.”
“That’s why we picked this place,” London said, tucked into the crook of Eli’s arm. “They cater to your entire wedding party exclusively. It’s nice, right?”
“It’s nice, but Kam I disagree,” a very drunk Paris admitted, waving her glass around. “We did it earlier and Ky kept telling me I was too loud.”