Chapter 12 An Unexpected Re
An Unexpected Reunion
Saturday arrived faster than Amari wanted and slower than Tan expected.
By six-thirty that evening, Amari had changed earrings three times, rejected two pairs of shoes, reapplied her lip gloss, removed it, reapplied it again, and threatened to cancel the entire date at least once.
Simone sat cross-legged on the edge of Amari's bed watching the performance with shameless amusement.
"You are stressing yourself out over dinner."
"I'm not stressed."
"You've changed perfume twice."
"I changed my mind."
"You also changed your mind about your hair."
"That's different."
"How?"
"It just is."
Simone laughed.
Amari stood in front of the full-length mirror and smoothed her hands over the red wrap dress she'd finally chosen.
The dress was elegant without trying too hard.
It crossed softly over her chest, cinched at the waist, and flowed over her generous hips before ending just below her knees. The fabric moved beautifully when she walked, and for once, Amari didn't tug it downward, pull it away from her stomach, or wonder whether her body took up too much space.
Craig had done enough of that for her.
Too much.
Too fitted.
Too much cleavage.
Too much attention.
Too many men looking.
Amari had spent almost two years adjusting herself around somebody else's insecurity.
Tonight, the woman in the mirror looked like herself again.
Her long natural hair had been styled into full, soft curls that fell past her shoulders. Gold hoops framed her face. Her makeup was warm and understated, highlighting the dimples she once hated as a teenager and now secretly loved.
She turned slightly.
Simone nodded approvingly.
"That's the dress."
"You've said that about three dresses."
"No. I said the green one was cute."
"You said I looked amazing."
"You did."
"And the black one?"
"Also amazing."
Amari crossed her arms.
"So you basically aren't useful."
"I'm emotional support."
"You're eating my snacks."
"That's part of emotional support."
Amari laughed.
Her phone lit up on the dresser.
A text from Tan.
Tan: Leaving now. Reservation is at 7:30. No rush.
She stared at it.
Simone leaned forward.
"Well?"
"He says he's leaving."
"See? Responsible."
"He's a police officer. Leaving on time is bare minimum."
"After Craig, we're celebrating bare minimum until further notice."
Amari looked at her.
Simone immediately softened.
"Sorry."
"It's okay."
"No, I mean it."
Amari sat beside her.
"I know."
Simone studied her face.
"You nervous because you like him?"
Amari sighed.
"I barely know him."
"That wasn't the question."
Amari looked toward the mirror.
"I think I could like him."
"That's different."
"Exactly."
She twisted one of her rings around her finger.
"I know what he was like when things were terrible."
"He was kind."
"He listened."
"He never made me feel weak."
"He didn't act like I owed him anything because he helped me."
Simone nodded.
"Those are good signs."
"Yeah."
"But?"
Amari exhaled.
"But those were emergencies."
"People can seem safe for two hours."
"A relationship is different."
Simone nodded slowly.
"True."
Amari looked at her.
"I don't trust myself the same way anymore."
"You're working on that."
"I know."
"But what if I miss something?"
"Then you leave."
Amari frowned.
Simone continued.
"You don't have to predict every bad thing before it happens."
"You just have to believe you'll listen to yourself if something starts feeling wrong."
That landed.
Amari looked down.
Simone bumped her shoulder.
"And for what it's worth, I like that he didn't pull your number out of a police report."
Amari smiled.
"Me too."
"That told me a lot."
"It told me he has ethics."
"Which is sexy."
"Simone."
"What?"
Amari laughed.
The doorbell rang downstairs.
Both women froze.
Simone's eyes widened.
"He's early."
Amari checked the time.
Seven-oh-six.
"That's not early."
"He's twenty-four minutes early."
"For picking me up. We said we'd meet there."
Simone stood.
"Even better."
Amari's stomach fluttered.
"Why is he here?"
"Maybe he brought flowers."
Amari stared.
"If he brought roses, I'm blaming his mama."
Simone gasped.
"You already know about his mama?"
"He told me his family found out about the date in under five minutes."
"Oh, I like them already."
They headed downstairs.
Amari reached the front door first.
She took one breath.
Then opened it.
Tan stood on the porch.
And for several seconds, neither of them said anything.
He wore dark trousers, a white shirt, and a tailored navy blazer that fit his broad shoulders far too well. No uniform. No tactical vest. No badge immediately visible. His black hair was freshly cut, and a clean, subtle cologne drifted toward her when he shifted.
In one hand he carried a small bouquet of pale pink and white tulips.
Amari stared at the flowers.
Then at him.
Tan smiled.
"My mother won."
She burst out laughing.
"I knew it."
"She threatened me emotionally."
"I believe you."
He held them toward her.
"I was told roses were too much."
"Correct."
"And showing up empty-handed apparently meant I wasn't raised properly."
"Also correct."
Tan nodded.
"Glad we're all aligned."
Amari accepted the bouquet.
"They're beautiful."
"So are you."
The words came naturally.
No hesitation.
No performance.
Amari's smile softened.
"Thank you."
Tan's eyes moved over her just long enough to be appreciative without making her uncomfortable.
Still, she noticed.
So did Simone, who suddenly appeared behind Amari.
"Hi."
Tan looked over.
Amari closed her eyes.
"Of course."
Simone smiled brightly.
"I'm Simone."
Tan extended his hand.
"Tan."
"I know."
Amari turned.
"Why are you like this?"
"Safety."
Simone looked back at Tan.
"If she texts me a pineapple emoji, I'm calling the police."
Tan nodded seriously.
"Reasonable."
Amari stared.
"You're encouraging her?"
"I work in public safety."
Simone pointed toward him.
"See? I like him."
"You met him twelve seconds ago."
"Strong first impression."
Tan looked amused.
Amari stepped onto the porch and closed the door behind her.
"Before she starts asking for your Social Security number."
Simone called through the door,
"I already ran a background check!"
Tan looked at Amari.
"Should I be worried?"
"Probably."
They both laughed.
Amari's nerves finally eased.
“I’m still driving my car.”
“Cool, I’ll meet you there.”
The restaurant Tan had chosen sat on a rooftop overlooking downtown Los Angeles.
Warm lights framed the outdoor terrace, and soft jazz floated from hidden speakers while the skyline stretched beneath the evening sky.
Amari stopped near the entrance.
"This is beautiful."
Tan watched her expression.
"Too much?"
"No."
She smiled.
"It's perfect."
"I wanted somewhere quiet."
"Good choice."
The hostess led them toward a table near the edge of the terrace.
For a few minutes, conversation stayed easy.
Food.
Traffic.
The weather.
The ridiculous cost of parking in Los Angeles.
Then the waiter handed them menus.
Amari scanned the prices.
Her eyebrows rose.
Tan noticed.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"That face wasn't nothing."
She leaned closer.
"These entrees need financing."
Tan laughed.
"It's not that bad."
"Forty-eight dollars for chicken?"
"You're making two hundred thousand a year."
Amari looked at him.
"You remembered?"
"You announced it in the produce section."
"I was proud."
"You should be."
Her expression softened.
"Thank you."
Tan looked back at the menu.
"But yes, the chicken is ridiculous."
Amari smiled.
"I like that you're not pretending otherwise."
"I almost chose another place."
"Why didn't you?"
He shrugged.
"I wanted the first date to feel special."
The words touched her.
She covered it with humor.
"Now you're putting pressure on yourself."
"Probably."
"Relax, Officer Avocado."
Tan laughed.
"I regret giving you my number."
"Too late."
Dinner lasted almost three hours.
Not because they ate slowly.
Because the conversation refused to stop.
Amari learned that Tan had two siblings.
Travis, the lawyer.
Ella, the nurse-in-training.
She learned that Terrence and Eva had adopted him when he was seven, though he'd lived with them since five.
She learned about Gloria's cooking.
Harold's fishing obsession.
The neighborhood where he'd grown up.
The barbershop.
His childhood best friend DeAndre.
She listened as he talked about the academy, SWAT, and the strange pressure of following in his father's footsteps.
Tan learned that Amari had grown up in Inglewood.
Her mother taught elementary school for thirty-one years.
Her father worked as an electrician before retiring.
She had one younger sister living in Houston with two children who FaceTimed Amari so often she could practically parent them remotely.
Amari loved old R&B.
Hated mushrooms.
Collected perfume.
Took solo trips whenever work became overwhelming.
And had an embarrassing obsession with home-decor videos.
"You watch people organize refrigerators?"
Tan asked.
"It's relaxing."
"You already know where your food is."
"That's not the point."
"What is the point?"
"Everything looks pretty."
Tan stared at her.
"You paid money for storage containers so your cereal could look better?"
"Yes."
"That feels unnecessary."
"Your avocado selection was unnecessary."
Tan laughed.
"You're gonna hold that forever."
"Absolutely."
Eventually, the conversation shifted.
Not abruptly.
Naturally.
Amari traced one finger around the stem of her water glass.
"Can I ask you something personal?"
Tan nodded.
"You can ask."
"You don't have to answer."
"Fair."
She looked at him.
"Do you remember your biological family?"
Tan's expression changed slightly.
Not closed.
Just more thoughtful.
"Some of it."
"Your parents?"
"My mother more than my father."
"Your brother?"
"Jin."
Amari remembered the name from something he'd said months before.
"He was the one who hid you?"
Tan nodded.
"I was five."
"He was sixteen."
"He told me to stay hidden during the raid."
Amari's face softened.
"Then he never came back."
"Not while I was there."
"Do you think he tried?"
Tan looked toward the skyline.
"I don't know."
There it was.
The answer he'd spent half his life hating.
He smiled faintly.