Chapter 11 #2
“What the hell, Rolani? If you think this is how you convince me to be with you, you are sadly mistaken,” she hissed, trying to keep her voice down. Friday at Luther’s was enough, but he was on her turf now.
“Ken, I’m not doing all that talking. You see me. Act like it.”
“Oh my god. You just pop up wherever I am now?”
His thumb traced along her neck, light enough to make her stomach pull tight; her body was trying to escape the feeling, but couldn’t. The air between them became thick and hot in the small hallway; it might catch fire if neither of them moved.
“I ain’t wanna come here,” he murmured. “But you left me on read.”
“Not you blaming me because you refuse to let me fucking breathe. Tell me what I did exactly?”
“I texted you four times since Friday, Ken. I told you what it was. You ignored me.”
“You need to…” she started.
“Need to what?” He paused, leaning back before coming in closer. His lips brushed her ear. “I missed you, Ken. Every single day.”
She felt it in her knees.
“Lani, stop,” she whispered, shushing him, trying to hide the smile on her face. “You need to leave.”
“No. ”
“How do you know where my parents live?”
“You got a lot to say for somebody who ain’t been saying nothing.”
“Everything alright out there?” her mother called out.
Kennedi closed her eyes tightly. Shit. Shit.
Shit. She knew her mother was about to catch them, but it was too late to separate, too late to pretend.
Her head appeared around the corner, catching them standing entirely too close for this to be casual.
Kennedi’s mother took them in with the practiced eye of a woman who’d spent three decades teaching teenagers, cataloging body language, reading what wasn’t being said.
She didn’t need a confession. The evidence was all there.
He was stuck in place at her calling him a nickname. She’d only done that when the strokes got the best of her, but eventually he backed up, giving Kennedi room to breathe.
“Everything is fine. Perfect.” Kennedi stepped away from the wall, smoothing the flannel around her spandex bodysuit.
“Mhmm,” her mother said,. “Your father’s waiting.”
Kennedi moved first, practically fleeing back to the safety of the dining room, leaving Rolani to follow with that smug smile.
“Rolani... that’s a lovely name,” her mother said once they were all in the dining room. “And how exactly do you know our Kennedi?”
“We work together,” Rolani said smoothly, taking the seat directly across from her father, the power position. “Very talented woman you raised.”
But her mother’s eyes kept flicking between them, and Kennedi knew she was filing away every detail, every micro-expression, every tell that screamed there was more to this story.
“Oh, you’re Giovanni’s friend and business partner,” her dad added.
“Yes, sir.”
“Man, I love the work y’all do. I need me something slick soon.”
Rolani slid a business card from his pocket and handed it to her father. “Come see me. It’s on the house.”
Kennedi coughed and glared at him as she moved toward the kitchen to fix him a plate. Two slices of meatloaf, turnip greens, mac and cheese, and creamed potatoes. It wasn’t until she set it in front of him that she realized what she’d done.
What the hell am I doing?
She’d served him like he belonged at her family table, like this was normal, like he’d earned that level of care and attention. Like he was her... her man. Her mother’s knowing smile from across the table confirmed she’d caught it too.
The knowing look he gave her made her cheeks burn.
“Thank you, beautiful,” he said, loud enough for her parents to hear the endearment.
Her mother elbowed her father, and Kennedi wanted to sink through the floor. This man was playing chess while she was playing Connect Four…exactly.
“Rolani, are you from Coupeville originally?” her mother asked.
“Yes, ma’am. Born and raised on the Southside. My grandmother, Pearl, raised me and my brother Robin.”
“Pearl Pracher?” her parents said in unison, recognition lighting both their faces. “We knew Pearl. Good woman. We were sorry to hear about her passing. Please accept our condolences.”
Kennedi swallowed.
Rolani was silent for a beat. When he spoke, his voice was lower. “I appreciate that. She was everything to my brother and me. Still is, in a lot of ways.”
Kennedi watched him compose himself when he talked about his grandmother.
She’d only learned about Pearl two days ago at Luther’s, sitting in a booth while her friends filled in the blanks he’d never given her.
Hearing him say it himself, to her parents, watching grief cross his face in real time, that was different.
That was the version of the truth she should have gotten from him.
“How’s Monroe?” she asked softly, leaning over. “Your niece.”
His hazel eyes locked on her, steady, unflinching. He didn’t blink, didn’t move, just studied her until her bold mouth quieted and her shoulders twitched like she wanted to squirm. He wanted her to feel it, he was clocking everything.
“What?” she asked finally, her voice smaller than she wanted it to be.
“Nothing.” His reply was rough, voice catching before he cleared his throat. “She’s good. Real good, actually. Still sneaking snacks.”
The fact that she even remembered that quick call about Monroe warmed his heart.
Most women couldn’t tell you his middle name, let alone give a fuck about his people.
Kennedi had separated herself by miles. In his eyes, she was already in her own lane, but this?
This put her galaxies away from the type of women he was used to.
She wasn’t making it easy for him to walk away. Not that he wanted to.
The night wrapped up with her father and Rolani talking cars, her mother asking pointed questions that Kennedi deflected with increasing desperation. By the time Rolani stood to leave, she felt like she’d run a marathon. But she’d enjoyed herself.
“Thank you for dinner, Mrs. Walters,” he said to her mother. “It was excellent.”
“Call me Heidi. We’re family, and you’re welcome anytime, Rolani.
” Her mother’s tone was warm, but her eyes cut to Kennedi with a look that said we’re definitely talking about this later.
But for now, Kennedi had one job... get this nigga out of her parents’ house before they brought out the photo albums.
The sun was setting, crickets chirping in the distance, as she walked him out the front door.
He deserved the riot act for showing up unannounced.
Instead, she walked beside him in silence, arms crossed, trying to find the words for a fight she wasn’t sure she wanted to have.
Because the answer to her question had been answered, he fit in just fine.
“You’re quiet,” he observed, clicking his key fob. The headlights of a sleek crimson pickup truck flashed in response. He leaned against the door, fighting the urge to pull her between his legs. “You mad?”
“What do you expect?” she finally said. “You just showed up at my parents’ house, Rolani. You can’t insert yourself into my life like that.”
“When it comes to you, I can do what the fuck I want. I gotta keep my eye on you, Ken.” He studied her face under the flickering streetlight. “Why you mad? It seemed like I fit in fine. Your daddy likes me. Your mama, too. I ain’t never met nobody’s parents before.”
“Their liking you is not the point, and you know it.”
“Then what is the point, Ken?” His voice was gentle now, not the predatory tone from earlier.
She opened her mouth to argue, then closed it. Kennedi stepped back out of his embrace, his hands on her made it hard to think.
“The point is, we aren’t together, and this is my parents’ house. I told you we could talk.”
“And I told you at Luther’s what would happen. You ignored me for two days, Ken. After I looked you in your face and told you not to play with me.”
“I needed time to think.”
“Time to run, you mean.”
“I need to go,” she said, backing toward the house before she did something reckless, like let him kiss her in her parents’ driveway. “I got some explaining to do to Heidi and Kenneth Walters, thanks to you.”
“Good luck with that, baby.”
She could’ve knocked that smug smile off his face. He was enjoying all of it—her fluster, and the fact that her parents were peeking through the blinds, treating the whole thing like Showtime at the Apollo.
She turned and walked a few steps toward the porch.
His eyes dropped, unbothered, tracking the sway of her hips.
The bodysuit clung to her, lifted her ass high, too high for him not to notice.
The flannel hadn’t concealed her curves at all.
He bit down on his bottom lip, muttering low under his breath, words that would’ve earned him a slap if she’d heard them.
She was thicker than before, and he liked that shit.
But before he could sink deeper into the view, she spun back. Shoulders squared, chin tilted, arms locked across her middle.
“Why didn’t you tell me about your grandmother? And your brother?”
His gaze narrowed, hazel eyes cooling. “Come again?”
“I had to find that out from my friends. Which was fucked up, by the way. I should’ve heard this from you. Mr. Pracher.”
For a second, pain flickered across his face before he shoved it down, hard. “What would it have mattered, Kennedi? You don’t even know if you wanna fuck with a nigga. I’m not inviting strangers into my misery, and I damn sure ain’t dragging people I care about into it either. I’m handling it.”
Her arms stayed crossed. “You should have told me.”
“Why?” His frustration broke through, and she dipped without so much as a goodbye. And he was cool on it. “So you could feel sorry for me? Send a sympathy text before ghosting me again?”
“That’s not fair.”