Chapter 1
Moyo
CHOCOLATES AREN’T MY THING, AND I’M NOT THE BIGGEST fan of roses, so shoving them in the supply closet as I prepare for my next patient is a no-brainer. But before I do, I bring the red bouquet to my nose and inhale the floral scent, hoping this time I’ll like it.
I don’t.
A second glance at the heart-shaped chocolate box also does nothing for me. Luckily, their existence is temporary—the roses will fade, and Anjie and Sewa will eat the chocolates—but it’s the thought that counts.
“Dr. Adegbite,” Sally, the older receptionist, calls, returning to my office for the third time before 8:30 AM.
“Are they here already?” I jump up from my seat, and my heart pounds at the prospect of finally meeting the family I’ve fought to work with for weeks.
Sally shakes her head, and I deflate a little. “Your boyfriend sure must love you,” she says. I collect a white envelope from her hand and place it beside my Beetlejuice mug.
“He really does,” I say, thinking of Cole. It’s been almost a year, and his thoughtfulness, although sometimes misguided, still warms my heart. Once Sally leaves, I snap a quick photo of the beautiful envelope and add it to the growing thread in the group chat with my girls.
Three gifts from Cole on a Thursday morning, all before my first client.
Anjie: Another thing?? Woah, he’s going all out. I’m OBSESSED!
Sewa: I’m actually impressed. Maybe that man ain’t half bad.
Anjie sends a series of laughing emojis, and I shake my head.
Where Anjie is true love’s cheerleader, mascot, and marching band all-in-one, Sewa is the skeptic, looking for a proper reason before hopping on board.
For some reason, she’s never bought into Cole.
But my happiness is enough to keep her sly comments to a minimum.
Me: Are we still on for tonight?
Sewa: You telling us the big secret?
My eyes roll before I respond.
Me: Yes
I can keep a secret, unlike those two. They couldn’t even keep my thirtieth birthday party a surprise.
I mean, who leaves their phone face-up when there’s a notification for a “popcorn machine delivery” and then “randomly” asks for horror movie recs, a genre neither of them watches?
It wasn’t rocket science. But no, I plan to reveal my good news in my own time.
Sewa: Well, then. Getting you hot and ready for tomorrow’s surprise? Aye, aye, Captain!
Anjie: By the time we’re done, Little Caesar’s Pizza might send us a cease and desist.
I’m laughing when my pager beeps, and all thoughts of Cole and his gifts dissipate, replaced by a bubbling giddiness that only means one thing—my new patient is here.
Putting my phone away, I gather the signed documentation stating I can work with the sweetest little girl, Danaya, and her family at no financial cost to the hospital.
The only cost is my soul, which is now owned by the administration.
You’d think the hospital would be happy to flaunt my work at the Foundation Gala at the end of the year, but evidently not.
There’s a high chance fighting to work pro bono will bite me in the ass, but as a developmental-behavioral pediatrician, my clients are my joy, especially my Black, low-income families, like this one.
They’re the reason I applied to medical school and spent many nights crying on the phone to my dad.
They’re why I fight, regardless of how much it pisses off a lot of senior staff members.
With my brightest smile of the morning, I readjust my pink scrubs, pat down my slicked-back hair, and make my way to reception.
Even more exciting than Cole’s gifts is whatever Sewa and Anjie have planned for our girls’ night. The one secret they’ve managed to keep. Tomorrow is a special day, but spending the night before with my girls is the icing on the cake.
My jaw drops when I open the door to my transformed living room.
“Surprise!” they yell, popping out from behind the kitchen island.
Hanging up my trench coat, I laugh. “I knew y’all were here.”
Sewa collects the chocolates and partially crumpled flowers from me. “Sorry for trying to be festive.”
“Welcome to your glam squad!” Anjie says, pulling me into a quick hug.
“We’re doing hair and nails ahead of tomorrow. Plus we got dinner,” Sewa says.
The setup of the wine glasses and food looks so good, it’s hard to believe the food is from our regular place a few miles away.
The appetizers—spring rolls, crab Rangoon, and chicken wings—sit on paper plates on my coffee table, while the delicious, salty, umami-filled fried rice and Kung Pao chicken are in the glass serving bowls my mother made me purchase when I moved in.
Sewa, the cosmetic guru among us, has three different press-on nail sets for me to choose from.
Tears spring to my eyes, and I pull both of them into a hug.
“Thank you,” I whisper, and they rub circles into my back.
Pulling back, Sewa grabs the nail options.
“We have classic French tip, almond nude, or green-and-clear ombre.”
I point to the green ones—the obvious choice.
Anjie connects to my speakers, and Styl-Plus’ R&B hit “Olufunmi” pours into the room.
The familiar tune slips past our lips, the English verses coming easily to all of us, while Sewa preps my nails.
As the song’s Yoruba chorus starts, her previously dutiful hand grabs my forearm.
Anjie palms my shoulder. It only takes a second’s glance for our minds to sync.
Like a rehearsed band, we belt the refrain in unison.
We’re not singers, but Anjie takes the lower harmony.
Sewa does her best impression of a soprano with the nail file as a microphone, and I sing the melody, as we’ve done many times before.
We spend the next ten minutes doing impromptu karaoke, Anjie grabbing the remote while I use my phone as a mic, easily flowing between English and Yoruba as each new song demands.
We give in to the music, waists whining, bodies shaking, and asses twerking with no regard.
When 112’s “Dance With Me” directs us to clap—because we are sexy, and we know it—we do.
“You clap like someone’s grandma at church,” I tell Anjie.
“Those women clap with conviction. I have conviction,” she says, continuing her thunderous applause.
“You’re not a serious person,” Sewa snickers.
When the song ends, Anjie pauses the playlist.
“Let’s pause for now ’cause we really need to get things moving. If not, we’ll dance all through the night,” she says, grabbing a spring roll. I attempt to pick up a crab Rangoon, but Sewa swats my hand.
“Don’t get your fingers dirty,” she says. “Anjie, feed her.” My oldest friend rolls her eyes, and I open my mouth and close my eyes.
“See how this babe opened her mouth?” Anjie hisses at Sewa. “Where does she think she is? Ancient Rome?”
I open my eyes. “In this house, I’m Zeus—wait, that’s wrong. Roman myth is the planets. In this house, I’m Jupiter.”
The girls look at me like I’ve grown another head.
“Cupid’s Bow got you mythological?” Sewa asks, referencing the astrology dating app that matched Cole and me using our birth charts.
“It was fun to learn. Did y’all know that in astrology, the houses rule over different parts of your life?” I ask excitedly as Sewa preps my left hand.
“Houses?” Anjie bites into a buffalo wing.
“Yep! For example, romantic and professional relationships are ruled by the seventh house. My seventh house is in Capricorn, which is ruled by Saturn.” I pause. Are they still engaged? Anjie and I make eye contact, and she nods along.
“Still listening, keep going,” Sewa says, the sound of the nail buffer filling the space.
“Saturn rules over longevity, time, aging, rigidity—”
“That really is you.” Sewa’s head pops up, and she shoots me a cheeky grin.
“Don’t be rude.” I kick her playfully. “But it makes sense. It has taken me a long time to find someone. And Cole is a year older, so it all tracks with Saturn.” I shrug.
“That was so insight—” Anjie begins, but I cut her off.
“There’s one more thing. It’s called a Saturn return, where Saturn wrecks your life, breaks you down, and makes you reassess all your habits and responsibilities. You’re literally forced to reconsider everything and become a new person.”
“So, it’s a coming-of-age period?” Sewa asks.
“But for adults.”
Anjie’s eyebrows scrunch. “Does this happen to be around thirty? Cause that was a bitch. It was when I was trying to secure the restaurant a new building.”
“I was contemplating leaving my job and returning to school,” Sewa says.
“And I got back into dating,” I say, following their leads. “That’s the Saturn return for you. New changes that influence the rest of adulthood.”
After college, I wasn’t thinking about love.
However, once I turned thirty, even though I had a steady job in the U.S.
and best friends a girl would kill for, it felt like something was missing.
Call it a Saturn return or simply aging, but I owed it to myself to stop letting a failed college relationship hold me back.
“That was deep.” Anjie holds a spring roll to my mouth. Sewa nudges her, and she cuts off a piece and plops it into her mouth too.
“What about the signs?” Sewa asks. “Virgo, Aries, those things.”
“Okay, so aside from the houses, the signs play a role, but the houses influence them,” I try to explain, pinching at the air with my free hand.
“Think of it this way. There’s a house, and it has amenities.
The astrological signs live in this house, but depending on the conditions, it could go sideways.
In my case, Saturn controls my relationships.
But I’m a Cancer Venus, which also deals with my dating life.
Cancer is protective, soft. And Saturn is—”
“Rigid,” Anjie says, resting her cheek on her palm.
“So, when a soft babe is in a hard house?”
“She has to develop tough skin,” Sewa responds, pressing a nail into the glue on my left index finger.
“But…” I trail off, pointing at Anjie like a conductor directing her symphony.
“She’s still a soft babe on the inside despite the outer shell. Like a crab. That’s Cancer. Right?”
“Precisely!” I exclaim.
“Wow. I recommended the app to you, but your knowledge has surpassed mine,” Anjie says.
“No vex.” I blow her a kiss for putting the app on my radar.
Initially, I was skeptical because a dating app with a 99 percent success rate sounds like a scam, but after I read reviews and watched videos about people’s positive experiences, I was sold.
“So, how does your man Cole fit into all of this? Is he a Capricorn…?” Anjie snaps her fingers. “Oh, you know what I mean.”
Her frustration makes me giggle. “He’s not a Capricorn Venus, but it doesn’t have to be one-to-one like that. He’s business-oriented, stable, direct, and a huge gift giver. Very Capricorn. So, we’re good,” I explain.
“Oh, it’s giving me a headache. I’ll be back.” Anjie rubs her temples. She gets up from the couch and heads to the kitchen.
“I wonder how the Cupid’s Bow people do it since they claim not to use an algorithm.” Sewa’s accusatory tone doesn’t escape me. I’ve also wondered, but since I found love with Cole so quickly, I don’t care what they do. It’s magic. And who am I to question magic?
I’m about to say as much when she brushes off my left hand, and I stare in awe. The clear, nude base fades into a gorgeous forest green that matches most of my belongings.
“Thanks, babe, I love them,” I gush.
“No worries. Glad to be part of this important post-Saturn return milestone,” she says, and her left eye squints. “Did I say that right?”
“Exactlyyy,” I say, drawing out the final syllable as I stretch my back.
Anjie returns with three plates perfectly balanced in her arms. One in each hand and one on her forearm. My stomach growls, ready to devour the fried rice and chicken.
Several spoonfuls later, I’m revitalized. “Do y’all wanna hear the secret?”
Groans fill the air.
“I thought we were gonna have to force it out of you,” Sewa says.
Ignoring them, I run to my room and retrieve the cold steel key Cole gave me almost a week ago. The white silk rope I tied around it makes the plain item match the beauty of his gesture.
I dangle the metal in their faces.
Anjie is the first to scream. “Ah! He gave you a key!”
“Holy shit,” Sewa says.
“Holy shit is right,” I say, happy it’s off my chest. He gave me a key. Cole, the man I’ve fallen in love with over the past year, is finally ready to take our relationship to the next level.
“How did it happen?” Anjie sets her food down and gives me her undivided attention.
“Okay, we’re watching this Nolan flick, and he keeps touching me during the movie, and getting distracted on his phone, something about his new TA with many questions.” I stop myself and wave my hands. “Long story short, you know I don’t like that—”
“Yeah, you film purist. But go on,” Sewa interrupts, and I shoot her a mild glare.
“Anyways, I tell him to stop, kinda blowing up—”
This time, it’s Anjie’s turn to interrupt. “Like you usually do.”
I ignore her. “As I was saying, I ramble a bit about how our anniversary is soon, and we don’t have any plans, and then…” I pause for dramatic effect. “He pulls out the key!”
“When you say ‘pulls out,’ like in a box or…?” Sewa peters off with her signature brow raise.
“Well…I technically ruined the surprise—”
“Like you usually do,” Anjie says, referencing my failed surprise birthday party, and they both laugh. I roll my eyes, fighting the urge to laugh as well. Regardless of my mood, upset or annoyed, if my girls are laughing, I simply can’t help it.
Sewa brings us back to the initial topic. “How are you feeling?”
I rub the soft white fabric attached to the precious key and my heart swells. “Like all my research and hard work paid off. Like it’s everything I wanted from Cupid’s Bow.”
“Soulmate material?” Sewa asks.
“A whole ten yards of it.” I laugh, and she smiles.
“We’re so happy for you, babes. You deserve this and a lot more,” Anjie cuts in. “Do you know what you’re getting him?” She asks politely, but, knowing her, it’s eating her up inside. Sewa looks up from the haircare products and flexi rods she is laying out.
A wicked smile grows on my face.
“Follow me,” I say, and they scramble after me to the bedroom.
I reach under my bed and grab the white bow-tied box housing the main character of my carefully thought-out plan. After unexpectedly receiving the key, I pivoted from my simple plan of his favorite out-of-production perfume to something more worthy of an anniversary.
Their jaws drop when I untie the bow and open the box.
“Moyo,” Sewa breathes.
“You’re gonna kill this man.” Anjie stares at the intricate, black lace lingerie set I bought from my favorite plus-size store.
Of all the things I’ve done in this relationship—planned movie dates, at-home paint and sips, bowling nights—this is my magnum opus. And I can’t wait for his five-star review.