Amina looked over at Wendell and then at Deuce. “Thank you both seriously. I don’t know what we would have done without y’all in that initial chaos.”
Paris looked up and nodded. “Same. Thank you Deuce. You really saved us back there.”
Deuce stood up, looking genuinely pleased but trying not to show it too much. He gave Amina a small nod. “Feel better. Hope it’s just a sprain.”
“I’m sure it is,” she said. “Your mom seems to know her stuff.”
“She’s never wrong,” Wendell said, the quiet pride of a man who had seen his wife be right too many times to argue with it.
They gathered their things and headed for the door. I watched Deuce hold it open for an elderly woman coming in before letting it close behind him.
Amina watched him go with something soft in her expression. “He is so sweet. Stella raised him right.”
Paris nodded. “He really is. Reminds me of Nique and Nel when they were that age.”
Amina’s mouth curved just slightly. “Maybe Nel, but that boy is way too sweet to remind anybody of Nique.”
Paris put her phone down. “Whoa, whoa. Let’s not act like Nique isn’t sweet. She has an attitude and a smart mouth when you push her, everybody knows that, but she is genuinely one of the sweetest people I know.” She paused. “She’s actually nicer than Nel if we’re being honest.”
Amina looked at her like she’d said something in a foreign language. “Nel?”
“Nel will read you to your face and laugh about it,” Paris said. “Nique will at least feel bad afterward.”
“Barely,” Amina muttered.
“Barely my ass,” Paris said, her voice losing the playful edge. “Nique had our backs all through college and you know it.”
Amina waved her hand. “She had your back because you’re her cousin. That’s different.”
“What about the time she drove to Pensacola for you?” Paris said, leaning forward. “Specifically for you! Not for me.”
Amina’s whole body language changed in an instant. “Paris.” Her voice came out strangled, somewhere between a whisper and a shriek. “Don’t you dare.”
“Then don’t sit here and talk about my cousin like she’s the spawn of Satan,” Paris said, her voice dropping low enough that it didn’t carry beyond their chairs.
Amina’s eyes cut over to me and then back to Paris, the message clear.Not here. Not in front of him.
Paris read it and leaned back, letting it go but holding Amina’s gaze long enough to make sure she understood the point had landed. “All I’m saying is Nique has shown up for people who wouldn’t even claim her in public. So let’s just leave her character out of it.”
Amina pressed her lips together and looked down at her wrapped ankle. Whatever Paris was holding over her head had done what no argument could. Shut her completely down.
I didn’t know what happened in Pensacola and something told me I wasn’t supposed to, but whatever it was had Amina sitting in that plastic chair looking like she wanted to disappear into it.
Kyson caught my eye from across the room and gave me the smallest shake of his head that said leave it alone.
So I did.
“Amina Carter,” a nurse called from the doorway, mispronouncing her last name but close enough.
Nobody moved.
Amina looked at Paris. Paris was already gathering her beach bag and nudging Kyson with her elbow. “We’ll see y’all back at the resort.” She stood up, stretched, and looked down at Amina with the particular expression of a woman who had already done her good deed for the day. “I’m tired and hungry and I’ve been sitting in this chair for an hour and a half.” She glanced over at me then back at Amina. “I’m sure Dex has it from here.”
Amina looked up at me and rolled her eyes so hard it looked like it required physical effort.
I just held out my arm.
She grabbed it without thanking me, which I expected, and we did that awkward three legged shuffle toward the door where the nurse was waiting. The nurse looked between us, assessed the situation quickly, and disappeared for a moment before coming back with an apologetic expression and a pair of crutches instead of a wheelchair.