Chapter 32- Sam
I hadn’t stepped foot in my parent's restaurant since meeting Zane.
My mother had opinions about everything—especially how I lived my life—and I wasn't in the mood to hear her mouth.
But after the fight with Mark went viral—some neighbor had posted the whole damn thing on TikTok.
We knew we had to face the tell out parent's before they heard it from someone else.
Zane sat beside me, quiet but composed. Back straight, legs crossed, eyes watching the front entrance.
She looked calm on the outside, but I knew she was unraveling inside.
I saw the way her fingers tapped against her thigh—three quick beats, then a pause—the same rhythm they always followed when she was holding herself together by a thread.
First through the door were her parents.
Her mother looked like her—but with longer hair.
Her curls bounced with every step. She was heavier than Zane but had the same curvy shape.
Her father was one of those Morris Chestnut types, in a suit that looked expensive against his dark skin.
Expensive glasses. Expensive shoes. His naturally frowning face deepened when he saw me.
They looked at Zane, then me, then each other.
Not a word. Just judgment humming in the air like a slow burn.
They definitely gave off the high-powered lawyer vibe.
Then came mine. My mother was first—light-skinned, tall, with an expensive wig flowing down her back.
Not a wrinkle in sight, even though she’d spent her childhood running in the Jamaican sun and her adult life running a busy restaurant.
My father trailed behind her—pale as a ghost, bald, and still looking like he didn’t know how he ended up married to a Black woman from the islands.
Zane waved her parents over. She’d seen them before—before the pregnancy. She didn’t get up. They hugged her and took a seat, both wearing that “who in the hell is he?” look on their faces.
“Sam,” my mom said, slow and drawn out, eyes narrowing as she looked around. I made sure the restaurant was close to closing and that they were in town and not working before telling them what time to meet us. “Sit down,” I told them all, gesturing to the table. “Please.”
Everybody looked around like this was a setup. Which… fair.
I sat down next to Zane and reached for her hand. Her fingers tightened around mine, steadying me the way she always did when I was ready to explode. She was the only person who could do that—silence the noise.
Her father cleared his throat first. “So… what is this?” “This is a conversation we needed to have,” I said.
“Face to face.” Zane’s mother gave her a long side-eye.
“I thought you said this man was just your boss, sweetheart. Why is he holding your hand?” Zane shifted but didn’t let go.
“That’s what I told y’all. Before.” Her father folded his arms. “Before what?” I leaned forward.
“Before we fell in love. Before I got her pregnant. Before I decided I was going to spend the rest of my life with her.”
Zane stood up and showed everybody her belly.
You could’ve heard a damn pin drop. Her mom blinked rapidly. Her dad looked like he wanted to throw a chair. My own father looked like he needed a drink. And then there was my mother—who sat back in her seat like she was watching an episode of Scandal unfold.
“You’re still married, and you look like you’re about to blow,” Zane’s dad said sharply, directing it at her like I wasn’t even sitting there.
“So are you,” my dad chimed in. “We know,” Zane said softly, retaking her seat.
“But it’s over. On both sides. Mark is dragging things out because he’s petty and dangerous, but I’m done.
I’m just trying to move on in peace.” “With him?” her mom asked, pointing a manicured nail at me. “With him,” Zane confirmed.
My dad sighed. “Sam, what is really going on? We haven’t talked to you in months. You just… disappeared.” “I didn’t disappear. I’ve been busy.” My mother raised an eyebrow but stayed quiet.
Zane’s dad turned to me now. “You really think this is smart? With a baby on the way? No divorce? Emotions still raw? You want to raise a child in this mess?” “I want to raise my child with love,” I said.
“And stability. And peace. We’re trying to build something solid.
” He opened his mouth to say something else, but Zane’s mother cut in.
She caught Zane’s eyes and folded her arms, tilting her head, eyes narrowing.
“You told us all this about Mark, Zane. You remember that? Said he made you feel seen, protected, all that. And look where that got you.” Zane’s jaw tightened, but she didn’t say anything.
Her mother pressed on, voice low but laced with heat.
“You rushed into that marriage, Zane. You didn’t want to hear a word from me or your father.
Said we were being judgmental. Controlling.
” Zane glanced down, her hand instinctively going to her belly.
“And now here you are again,” her mother said, softer now but no less direct.
“You’re still married. Pregnant by a man we’ve barely said two sentences to.
And you want us to be what—happy?” “Mama—” Zane started, voice cracking.
“No. Don’t Mama me. I’m not saying he’s a bad man.
I’m saying slow down. You’re moving like you’re trying to prove something.
Like you need to be chosen to feel whole.
” She exhaled. “Baby, I just don’t want you making permanent decisions while you’re still healing from the last ones. ”
Zane opened her mouth to respond when my mother spoke.
“Enough.” Everyone looked at her. My mom leaned forward, voice low but firm—like only a Black mama could be when she was about to shift the entire room.
“Everybody needs to calm down. We don’t have to like this, but we don’t have to stress them out at a pivotal time like this.
That’s a grown woman carrying a child. Our grandchild.
” She speared each parent with a look. “She needs peace, not strife. Let them talk instead of y’all fussing at them. ”
Zane’s mom sat back slowly. Her dad still didn’t look thrilled, but he wasn’t barking anymore.
“I love your daughter,” I said. “More than I’ve ever loved anything in my life. I will protect her. I will protect my child. We’re not asking for permission.”
Silence again. Until my father muttered, “Well, I guess it don’t really matter what we say…” My mom gave him a swift smack to the arm before turning to us. “Tell us how this happened.”
I started talking. Told them everything. Ended with me being bailed out of jail for whooping Mark’s ass. Luckily after it was the judge dropped the charges and neither one of us ended up with a criminal record. But I made Zane take a protective order out against Mark.
Zane’s father was the first to speak. “I might end up liking you after all. I’ve been wanting to beat Mark’s ass about my daughter.” He smiled, but it looked more like a grimace. Mama just shook her head, muttering in patois as she reached across the table to squeeze Zane's hand.
And just like that, the war was over before it could truly begin.