Ava Reynolds
This was only my second Thanksgiving with the Cartier's, and it was still overwhelming.
My father was wealthy, but we did not have an estate.
We did not have a private chef catering a meal like the president was pulling up.
My father, sister, and I would spend the holidays together, but he would usually take us to a fancy restaurant, and it was always just the three of us.
So, walking through the Cartier estate and seeing the long dining room table dressed for the holidays with linen, large, decorative plates, candles, and place settings made me feel like I was in a staged photo in a magazine.
Chef Eddie and his staff were in the kitchen finishing dinner. The whole house smelled like comfort had been cooked into the walls.
The family was spread out in the den. Football played on the huge TV, but nobody was paying real attention.
Toys were everywhere. Aria and Legend’s older children were running and playing.
Even some of the staff were there. Some of them did not have people to spend the holiday with.
Some of them just did not feel like slaving over a stove.
Either way, nobody treated them like “help” today.
They were laughing, drinking, playing games, and talking trash with us.
I believed the Cartiers liked having the older staff around because it gave them that matriarch-and-patriarch feeling on the days they missed their parents the most.
“Y’all know what I’m thankful for this year,” Saint said, lifting his glass.
Tempo instantly rolled her eyes because she knew Saint wasn’t about to be serious. “What, Saint?”
“That my opps still ain’t got no aim and the competition still broke.”
Zahra cut her eyes at him. “Here he go.”
Saint shrugged. “What? I am grateful for that shit.”
Legend let out a dry laugh. “This nigga...”
I looked around the room, at all this love and noise and safety, and my eyes stung.
My mother had been gone for years, but Thanksgiving made her absence feel so much bigger.
And even my father, as sick as it felt to admit, I mourned him too.
Not the sadistic motherfucker he actually was, but the version of him I had loved.
I blinked fast and turned on the bar stool to face the bar. That was when Reek slid onto the stool next to me. His scent made you inhale without meaning to. He looked good in that effortless way. He leaned in slightly. “Why you looking so sad?”
I tried to brush it off with a small smile. “I’m fine.”
Reek’s mouth twitched like he knew I was lying. “You don’t look fine.”
I exhaled and admitted, “I’m just missing my mom. Holidays do that.”
His expression got softer. “Yeah, grieving doesn’t stop because time has passed.”
I nodded, staring at my glass so I wouldn’t start crying.
Reek watched me for a second, then his gaze quickly dropped, like he caught himself looking too long. “You too pretty to be over here pouting, though.”
My stomach flipped a little. Blushing, I looked away, but he lightly nudged me. “You ain’t about to sit over here drowning in your feelings all day.”
“I’m not drowning.”
Reek’s eyes dragged over me again, slow enough to make it feel intentional, then he leaned back with that same half-smile.
“You close,” he said. “And, like I said, I prefer to see that pretty smile.”
It felt like he was flirting, but I couldn’t tell if he meant it that way or if he was just being Reek, who was always smooth without trying.
Before I could respond, the den erupted.
Legend and Saint were wrestling in the middle of the floor like children. Legend had Saint in a headlock. Saint was laughing through it and talking trash.
Truth and Sire started backing up their father.
“Get him, Daddy!” Truth shouted with his tiny fists swinging at Saint like he was actually doing damage.
Sire jumped in, throwing toddler punches with his whole body.
Saint pretended to struggle, then scooped both boys up and tossed them onto the couch.
Aria popped up instantly. “Saint! Do not hurt my babies!”
“I’m training them to be real niggas. If you let them be soft little luxury babies, somebody else gonna make ’em tough.”
Aria pointed at him. “Leave them alone. And you bet’ not act like this when Rhythm gets here.”
Saint paused mid-laugh. “Who the hell is Rhythm?”
“A new artist I’ve been working with. I invited her because she didn’t have plans for Thanksgiving.”
Saint frowned. “Why you care that a stranger didn’t have plans?”
“Because my heart goes out to her. She’s young. She has kids. She works her ass off for her children and her dreams. She does not complain. She just does it. And I admire that. I struggle with my own kids, and I have a rich husband and a lot of help.”
Saint paused, then looked around the room like he was offended by the concept of manners. “So, we gotta front because we got company coming? It’s Thanksgiving. I’m trying to be the nigga I am. I’m trying to say what I wanna say.”
Zahra shook her head shamefully at her husband. “Saint…”
“What? I’m being honest. I’m not about to be in here acting like I’m on a Hallmark card just because somebody pulling up.”
Legend waved him off. “You don’t have to front. Rhythm from the hood.”
Aria’s head snapped toward Legend. “Don’t say that.”
Legend playfully smirked. “Say what? The truth?”
Saint clapped his hands once. “See? We’re good. She from the hood.”
Reek sucked his teeth. “Nigga, you ain’t even from the hood. Wasn’t you raised in this house?”
Saint lifted his brow and a finger. “Technically, no. Side babies aren’t raised in the main chick’s house.”
The room erupted in hollers and laughter.
Then Livia leaned forward on the couch, asking Aria, “Where is she from?”
Aria sighed, saying, “She’s from the same neighborhood the development is being built in.”
Icon and Reek spoke at the exact same time. “Oh, she hood as fuck.” They both said it so flat and sure the room went quiet for half a second before everybody burst out laughing.
Aria rolled her eyes. “Oh my God.”
Saint nodded like that proved his point. “Shit. Mothers from the hood the real killers. They don’t even need guns. They can kill you with one look.”
Legend barked out a laugh. “That’s true.”
Aria glared at Legend. “Do not encourage him.”
Legend held up both hands. “I’m just saying.”
Aria’s mouth tightened. “Legend…”
This entire time, I had been watching Sincere. He was always composed. But the second Rhythm’s name was mentioned, his demeanor changed. He smiled a smile I had only ever seen on him back when he was with Tempo.
It looked like his soul was smiling. And for the first time since I had known Sincere Bellamy, he looked… relaxed.