Chapter 34
By the time Real and Everly’s reception got good and loud, I had almost convinced myself that the little knot I felt in my stomach was nothing but nerves.
Almost.
The wedding had been beautiful, of course.
My cousin had cried. Real had tried not to, but he failed in front of God, family, and everybody with a camera phone.
Everly looked so happy she almost glowed, and Real kept looking at her like he couldn’t believe all that attitude and beauty had finally become his forever. I loved that for them. I really did.
And I absolutely loved their wedding. The flowers, the food, the music, the way our family filled every corner of the room with laughter and well wishes, all of it touched my heart.
I loved the old heads two-stepping while they fussed about their knees and how we didn't know "good music.
" I loved Hyacinth alternately singing and arguing with Emory about the color of her dress. I loved watching my grandparents sit at their table like royalty, PawPaw leaning back in his chair with his hand over Granny Nette’s, as he watched his descendants proudly.
I even loved watching Juvie dance… if that’s what you called it. That young man had perfect timing when it came to jokes, but when it came to rhythm? Not so much.
“He just looks awkward, poor thing,” I whispered as I watched Akeira and Real's sister Chennai try to teach him and Mikhail some line dance.
Targen’s chest shook against my back. His arms were around my waist, and my curls grazed his chin while we swayed more than danced at the edge of the floor.
“Don’t tell him that. He’ll be so hurt. Nigga swears he got lessons from Michael Jackson.”
I snorted. “He must mean a Michael Jackson he met in elementary school or something. I know damned well he don’t mean Michael Joseph Jackson. Not Joe and Katherine’s boy.”
Targen laughed harder, drawing a few looks.
Juvie pointed at us like he knew he was being discussed, then did something with his shoulders that made Mikhail shake his head like he was tired of the bullshit.
Bless his heart. Mikhail hadn’t signed up for loud Black family gatherings with thirty people talking at once.
He didn’t know what to do with the aunties calling him "baby" and fixing his plate without his input.
“Akeira, leave them boys alone. Let them go finish them plates,” my aunt Olivia called out right then as she and my cousins Calanthe and Farrah approached us.
“TeTe,” Calanthe groaned.
At sixteen, she was embarrassed by everything. How she dealt with a mama like my Aunt Cynthia and a sister like Hyacinth was beyond me.
“What? They didn't get to finish eating before the DJ died and went to line dance heaven. Poor boys done bunny-hopped, electric slid, wobbled, and a few more.
“Don’t forget that Cha-Cha slide. I didn’t think anyone danced worse than Mekhi. Juvie proved me wrong,” Farrah said.
Aunt Liv swatted at her. “He tried. Let them rest. Especially that blond one. Is he single?” she asked.
“TeTe–” I began.
“As a dollar bill,” Targen chimed in.
My aunt looked at Mikhail speculatively.
“I wonder if Spencer–” she began.
“Spencer gon' kill you,” I warned.
Spencer was her quiet, introverted daughter. Being set up by her mother would frustrate her, to say the least.
“He's a good catch, though. He's strong, smart, from the conversation I had with him at the rehearsal, and he's got some things going for him on the black side. You know he helped make potato salad for the cookout after the rehearsal last night?”
Targen made a sound that he buried in a cough.
“Wait... he brought the potato salad? That was good,” Farrah said, sounding awestruck.
Aunt Liv nodded. “I know. And he was your PawPaw's Spades partner. You know that's an honor. Oh! And he only had one drink last night and tonight so far. Guess what it was?”
My eyebrows rose. “What?”
She leaned in and whispered, “Hennessy.”
“Dang. Potato salad, Spades, and Hennessy? He blacker than Targen,” I whispered back.
“Now, wait a damn minute–” Targen protested as Lanthe laughed.
As if his ears were burning, Mikhail made his way toward us, Juvie behind him, snapping arrhythmically to a soulful Luther Vandross track.
“What's up, Aunt Liv?” Juvie greeted brightly.
His eyes flitted to Calanthe then moved right back away.
“Lanthe,” he said softly.
“I'll talk to y'all later, Theory. I need to find Mama,” Lanthe said, ignoring Juvie completely.
“Yeah, of course.” I kissed her cheek then watched her walk off.
“So, there exists one woman that the great Julien Reed cannot charm,” Mikhail teased.
I waited for Juvie to say something silly, to pop off in his usual, comedic way. Instead, his mouth pressed into a grim line and he shrugged.
“Yeah. That happens sometimes,” he said, voice flat.
An uncomfortable silence settled over us. Aunt Liv cleared her throat then waved a hand dismissively. “Y'all know teenagers and attitudes. Come back to your table. I saw the way y'all ate them lamb chops. And Julien? Mama made a banana pudding with your name on it.”
Juvie's expression lifted a little. “That young lady stay doing the Lord's work.”
“Spoiled ass,” Targen muttered.
“I'm sensing a hater,” Juvie sang.
Targen's mouth lifted in a half-smile. “Wait til she knows me better. We'll see who her favorite grandson is.”
Juvie gasped and clutched his chest. “You could never.”
“Boy!” Aunt Liv snapped, then smiled up at Mikhail.
“How do you feel about interracial dating?”
Mikhail's eyes widened as she linked her arm through his. I shook my head as they strolled off.
“Lil' Lanthe cold with it. I thought she had a crush on Juvie,” Targen murmured near my ear.
I shrugged. “She's sixteen. Things change.”
I'd let Juvie give him the real answer, how he'd publicly hurt Lanthe's feelings and broke her heart.
It had pissed us all off at the same time that we understood it.
He was about four years older than she was, a big difference at their ages.
Calanthe's crush could never be more than what it was, and he'd made sure that was clear.
She'd definitely understood, opting to go on sleepovers and little trips on the times he'd visited Emancipation since then.
Juvie had accomplished what he'd set out to do, but the way he'd just looked. ..
“Aww, hell,” Targen mumbled.
My focus snapped back to the reception. “What?”
“That look on your face. That's dangerous.”
I kissed my teeth. “I’m thinking.”
“That's what worries me.”
I elbowed him lightly. He kissed the side of my head like he hadn't just lowkey insulted me. The nerve of him.
The bigger nerve was that I leaned back into him anyway.
The slow song moved into something faster, and the dance floor filled immediately.
Real spun Everly into the middle of the room while everybody clapped and called out to them.
She laughed so hard her head tipped back, curls bouncing, her dress catching the light.
They looked so happy. Finally! It was like one of those moments you wanted to take a picture of to keep forever.
Then I noticed Prime. He stood near the far side of the room, talking to Ajani and Braeden.
Nothing about that was strange. I mean, those three always looked like they were discussing important things, like how to fuck someone up legally.
But something about them, I didn't know exactly what, caught my attention.
Maybe it was how still they were. Maybe it was that Ajani’s eyes kept moving toward the main doors. Maybe it was that Braeden looked annoyed instead of relaxed. Maybe it was the fact that Prime smiled, but it didn't look amused at all.
I frowned.
“What?” Targen asked immediately.
“I ain't said anything.”
“You went stiff on me.”
“Did I?” I evaded, smiling up at him.
“Yes.”
I looked at him. His gray eyes were already focused on my face. I forced myself to shrug.
“I’m fine.”
“You lie so badly, milaya.”
“And you tell the truth so selectively, hubby. I guess we both got stuff to work on.”
He smiled, but his eyes didn’t change. “Tell me what you noticed.”
I looked back toward Prime’s group. “They look... off.”
“Who?”
“My guys.”
His brow lifted. “Your guys?”
“My cousins. My people. Focus, Targen. Don’t start acting jealous and insecure at this reception.”
He pointed at himself and mouthed 'Me?' like it was the most ridiculous thing he ever heard. “I am not jealous and insecure.”
I pursed my lips. “You kidnapped me from a date.”
“That was a coincidence,” he said, somehow straight-faced.
“But I'm the bad liar.”
He laughed softly, then pressed another kiss to my temple. “They working.”
“At a wedding reception?”
“Especially at a wedding reception. They work so everyone else can enjoy.”
I knew that was supposed to have calmed me.
It didn't, because even as he said it, a crash sounded outside. It wasn't loud enough to be gunfire, but it was too loud to be nothing.
The music stuttered before the DJ cut it completely. Conversations and laughter died as people stilled, listening.
Somebody near the doors screamed. Targen’s arms left my waist. I felt the loss of him immediately.
“Targen.”
He moved in front of me, smooth, no panic, placing his body between me and the sound.
That scared me a little. Mikhail appeared at my side like he had been conjured up.
Juvie was there a second later, all the foolishness gone from his face.
Across the room, women started moving without being told.
My mama pulled one of my little cousins behind her.
Aunt Elise reached for Granny Nette. Hyacinth’s hand disappeared into that little sparkly purse she kept acting like was just for lip gloss.
Braeden walked toward the doors. Like he literally strolled, unbothered. Prime and Ajani followed.
I grabbed the back of Targen’s jacket.
“What’s happening?” I demanded.
All his infuriating ass said was, “Stay behind me.”
“I asked you what’s happening.”