Chapter 26
SOLOMON ADJUSTED HIS CAP, shifting it to the side before he knocked on the door to Kenya’s apartment.
He was not a member of the bridal party, but he was still adorned in traditional Nigerian wear.
After he volunteered at the race last Saturday, his mother had commandeered the rest of the day to put the final touches on his outfit.
The entire family would be wearing specific fabrics that complemented the colors worn by his cousin’s immediate relatives.
Kenya opened the door on the third knock and stilled his breath. His mother had created an incredible outfit for her. “Wow,” he breathed. “You’ll fit right in.”
“I think that’s what I was hoping for.” She spun around, her petite frame hugged by the dress his mother had made.
His heart swelled. Their company created couture and custom garments for the rich and famous, both in the US and internationally. But this piece mattered more than the lot of those.
Kenya grinned. “My colors kind of complement yours.” The coral fabric of her dress sparkled with his mother’s added threadwork and beads of green that matched the color of his caftan and pants.
But he noticed there were subtle differences that would let attendees know that Kenya wasn’t exactly family.
The cut was more modern, an off-the-shoulder lacy top and a skirt that hugged her slender curves and belled out around her ankles.
More lace flowed over the skirt, adding texture that Kenya kept running her twitching fingers over.
It was different from the classier Nigerian cuts that his mother worked on, but that was okay. He pulled her close, her form fitting perfectly in his arms. After tonight there should be no question that she belonged with him, no matter what colors she wore.
WHEN THEY arrived at the upscale downtown hotel, Kenya could sense Solomon’s energy. When she thought he would be nervous to have her meet his family, he seemed to buzz with anticipation.
“Kenya, I am excited for you. Robert will love you, and I think you’re really gonna hit it off. There’s no doubt in my mind that Blue Horizon is going to want to be a sponsor and vendor for your clients after tonight.”
“Solomon, you’re making this more about me than about the wedding of your cousin.
And yes, I know that’s part of our deal.
” She held on to his arm and leaned close.
No more blurry lines, just a straight and spacious path that led to him.
“Honestly, I’m just happy to be here. And I know it’s all gonna work out. ”
Did he notice the stars in her eyes? Because she sure did see the sparkle in his. It was so hard to focus on what she was really here for when the one she was here with was overwhelming her to the point of distraction.
But she had to keep her eyes on the current prize. Making the contact with Robert Bluestone of Blue Horizon and at least getting a verbal confirmation from him would be enough to redeem herself with Evelyn and the agency.
They made several turns, and when they passed by an alcove on their way into the main hall, she grabbed Solomon’s hand and pulled him to the side.
They were hidden by a tall potted plant, in a very ornate and expensive-looking vase, she might add.
The intricate designs etched into the side planted themselves in her mind, a golden filigree filter, as she looked up at the man who had brought her into all of this, bending and breaking and outdoing her expectations for what this supposed deal would look like.
“Solomon, thank you for . . .” His look of surprise turned into something much deeper, warmth filling his eyes like melting wax, melding them closer together. He lowered his face toward hers.
“Wait, are we allowed to do this here?” she whispered, feeling like a hypocrite.
“It’s already been done.” The corner of his mouth tipped up, and before he brushed his lips against hers, he inhaled. “But let’s stay focused. I want this to work out for you.”
She nodded, thankful that even in this he seemed to care more about her career trajectory than she did.
There he was again, being this protector that she didn’t know she needed.
He set his forehead against hers, inhaling and exhaling again as if to breathe her in, and then with a quick step, he led her back out into the open and on their way.
She almost tripped trying to keep up with his long strides in her ornate ballet slippers. He slowed his pace.
“Can you tell me again how we’re going to work this out?” she asked, holding the skirt carefully at her side. She rubbed her fingers against the textures of the fabric. The act soothing her frenzied thoughts.
“Don’t worry, Kenya, these weddings are highly organized but can also be very spontaneous. You’ll know the moment when it comes. If you are up for the challenge.”
Kenya chuckled. “Always. But should I be nervous?”
“Of course not. If you just give them a sliver of who you are, they will be overly impressed. And I happen to know that Blue Horizon is looking for ways to engage more in the community in the upcoming year. They are looking for fresh ideas, so I know he will be interested in what you have to say.”
Kenya exhaled. “I think I’m ready.”
She didn’t always work well with rehearsed scripts and laid-out details anyway. Her sweet spot was interactions that happened in the moment. Help me to be me, Lord. She breathed. And please help me not to mess this up.
As soon as they hit the double-door entrance of the opulent room, Kenya was taken aback by the swirls of sights and smells that infiltrated her senses.
The dresses and skirts of the wedding guests flared out in a kaleidoscope of colors that would’ve made the average person dizzy.
Kenya kept turning, thankful for the strengthening of her ankle.
The tables were dressed in linen and tulle, brass chairs surrounding each one.
Floral centerpieces of varying heights topped the tables, gold accents flowing through the name cards, candles, and napkin holders.
She looked up to take in additional floral garland that draped between the chandeliers like a hanging garden, leading the guests’ eyes to the stage against the far wall.
More gold-hued tulle bannered a cream-tufted couch, where she assumed the bride and groom would recline after they arrived.
Kenya didn’t dare peel her eyes away from the array, even to look into the face of the man standing next to her.
“What do you think?” She heard the grin in his voice.
She looked his way. “How come no one has ever invited me to one of these before?”
He shrugged. “It’s just a wedding.”
She pivoted to face him. “Just a wedding? No wonder they used a New York planner for this. Do you see the textures? Do you see the materials, the colors? Do you see what I know must be highly organized chaos? Because I also see the no-nonsense faces of the event staff, dressed in black, but this is glorious.”
Solomon’s eyebrow lifted. “You haven’t seen any of this online?”
“I study trends, but the events I’ve put on have not been anything like this, so I haven’t necessarily been digging up research about West African weddings. But who needs a reel when you can step into a display of the real thing?”
Solomon laughed. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this excited.”
Kenya hardly registered his words. “What is that smell? I bet the menu will have the most incredible foods I’ve ever tasted.”
Solomon dug his right hand into his pocket, offering her the elbow of his other arm. “Of course.”
She giggled at his inflection that produced a Nigerian accent.
“If you thought the outfits were colorful, wait until you taste and see what the spread is.” Spices from the main dishes wafted through the swinging doors while white-clad servers carried out dishes laden with appetizers.
“Oh my goodness, what are those cute little balls?” she whispered to Solomon. “Those golden-brown ones.”
He looked in the direction she pointed. “If my eyes tell me correctly, that is chin-chin. I think you’ll like them. They’re crispy little pastries that are usually served on special occasions as appetizers or as an after-school snack, if your parents are feeling generous.”
Kenya’s gaze roamed around the room, the tapestries and decor flowing with rich color and texture. Crystal chandeliers hung in various corners of the hall. Solomon gently tugged her forward. “Let’s go ahead and find our table so you can rest your ankle for now.”
He lifted his hand in greeting to a few guests as they passed by, and as they drew closer to the center, she could sense him brace himself.
And she could see why. They approached a large, richly dressed group, clothed in luxurious fabrics with flashy hues of deep green and rich navy.
Many of the women’s heads were draped in beautiful scarves that seemed to have a life of their own, like extended crowns of vibrant color that added to their regality.
The men wore either similar caps as Solomon’s or fedoras, along with their traditional clothing.
Solomon’s attire matched the ones in green.
Although the cuts were different, they all had the same fabric.
Kenya looked down at her skirt and top. She’d been excited to see that her coral fabric complemented Solomon’s, but she didn’t fit together like they did.
Instead, among this group, she stood out. Almost belonging but dressed differently enough to make it clear that she didn’t.
The noise level increased the closer they got to the laughing and hugging crowd.
Kenya shook off her insecurity and chose to focus on the privilege of being here.
She recognized Solomon’s mom, probably the best-dressed of them all.
She greeted everyone like a queen, extending her hand, bestowing her favor.
Kenya wondered how she had survived one-on-one with her.
Kenya squeezed Solomon’s arm. “I still can’t believe I’m here. I’ve heard this venue sometimes takes years to book.”
“It’s all about who you know,” he said, “and I know that you need to stop worrying about all that and enjoy yourself.”
Kenya kept her head on a swivel. “I’m just so distracted by everything. This has already been worth it.”
“Really?” Solomon looked down at her, pausing before entering the storm of relatives that were starting to glance their way. “Are you sure you’re not saying that too early?”
She shook her head. “Nope. It was all worth it to get us to this point.”
He leaned in close. “Are you nervous?”
Kenya bit her bottom lip, drumming her fingers on his arm. “Not at all.”
“Don’t worry, my family won’t eat you.” He smiled, and then silently mouthed the words Ready, set . . .
“Go,” she answered, and they stepped bravely into the group, who were ready to greet their native son and the woman on his arm.
SOLOMON WAS grateful when the DJ shifted the music and announced the arrival of the bride and groom.
His cousin had opted for a private traditional ceremony at her fiancé’s home.
Solomon had attended that before picking up Kenya.
He leaned against his brother. “What happened to the hired MC?” He kept his eyes trained on the door.
“Apparently, she got food poisoning this afternoon and had to back out. Mother enlisted the DJ to help with some of the announcements, but I don’t think he can handle the reading of the blessings.”
Solomon sat back. That was unfortunate. He glanced at Kenya, who sat across the table next to his mother. He would have preferred her right next to him, but when he saw where Robert Bluestone was seated at the next table, he persuaded his brother to switch.
“I think I have a solution. Where are the MC’s cards?” Solomon asked his brother.
Simon reached for a gilded box next to his plate. “They are right here. If you can take care of it, I’ll owe you.”
Before he could say more, two attendants pulled open the double doors, and the bride and groom entered, flanked by the bridal party, which included his sister, Nneka.
“Oh goodness.” Kenya’s awe reached him from across the table.
The bridesmaids and groomsmen were dressed in similar colors as the families but more adorned.
Instead of entering separately, the bride and groom stepped dramatically into the middle of the room, where they were surrounded by the tables of guests.
Solomon turned to look at Kenya, anticipating her response to what came next.
Suddenly the music changed, and the bridal party began a highly detailed dance routine.
Kenya gasped, her eyes dancing along. She glanced at him, her mouth wide with joy, stunning in her simple head wrap and matching gown.
She was more mesmerizing in this moment than the dance.
Her every sway, clap, and laugh pulsing with unbridled delight.
That same joy that had pulsed through him when she tugged him to herself at the Mercedes-Benz Stadium, her words “It’s about time” echoing in his thoughts to the beat of the music.
It was about time, wasn’t it?
He’d made this about a fake relationship, but that had been a cop-out for what he’d been too afraid to admit. Kenya Stewart was not easily forgotten and was becoming really easy to love.