34. “My woman needs me somewhere, I’m there.”
“MY WOMAN NEEDS ME SOMEWHERE, I’M THERE.”
HALE
Ibrought cheesecake.
Not the grocery store kind. The real kind, from that Italian place off Main that only made them on Thursdays.
I’d been driving back from chess with Harry when I spotted the sign for Moretti’s and swerved into the parking lot before I could think too hard about why.
By the time I got to Ava and Grant’s, everyone was already parked.
Yasmine sat at the edge of the pool with her legs dangling in the water, Annie beside her looking supremely unconcerned. Ava and Tabby floated nearby on their stomachs, half asleep like they had nowhere to be for the rest of their natural lives.
“A week, Annie,” Yasmine said. “He offered you one week with his car and you folded.”
“Didn’t fold. I gave him a direction.”
“You gave him my business for a set of car keys.”
“It’s a Chevelle, Yaz.”
“It’s still just a car, Annie.”
Annie stared at her. “That might be the most offensive thing you’ve ever said to me.”
“You told him about Monae.”
“And he sorted it.” Annie shrugged. “I don’t know why you’re complaining.”
Yasmine’s mouth tightened.
“Mm-hmm,” Annie said.
“I’m still mad.”
“You can be mad and grateful at the same time.”
“Evening, y’all,” I interrupted. Yasmine had a glint in her eye, and Annie had about ten seconds before she ended up in the pool.
Ava lifted one lazy hand from her float. “You’re late.”
“I come bearing dessert.”
Yasmine’s gaze dropped to the box in my hand, then came back to me. “Moretti’s?”
“Made the detour just for you.”
Her expression softened. “Thank you.”
“Doesn’t excuse what you said about the Chevelle, though.”
Annie sat up, vindicated. “Thank you!”
Yasmine rolled her eyes.
I carried the cheesecake toward the built-in grill before the argument could start again.
Carter had taken command of the setup, moving between the grill and stone counters with enough confidence to make it clear that assistance would only insult him.
Grant leaned against the outdoor kitchen with a beer, half-watching the food, while Nico looked like he hadn’t moved from his lounge chair in hours, sunglasses on and a longneck balanced on his stomach.
I tipped my chin toward the grill. “How much longer?”
“Done when it’s done,” Carter said. “What’d you bring?”
“Cheesecake. Moretti’s.”
“Nice.”
His eyes lit in a way I didn’t like. I’d have to watch him—he’d put away the whole thing before Yasmine got a slice.
Grant opened the fridge beneath the counter and nodded me toward it. I took one, twisted off the cap, and leaned back against the stone.
Over by the water, Annie said something low enough that I couldn’t catch it. Whatever it was earned her a hard shove from Yasmine. Annie windmilled once before disappearing into the pool with a splash big enough to rock Ava and Tabby on their floats.
Yasmine smirked, entirely unrepentant. She’d feel bad about it in an hour. For now, though, her mean little smile was cute as hell.
She wore a green bikini she’d bought in Mexico, the color deep against her brown skin, with small gold rings at the hips. She’d told me once she’d almost left it in the store because she thought it was too much.
It had not been too much.
It was currently nowhere near enough.
She caught me looking.
I took a drink and turned toward Nico.
“Yo, Nico. Your cousin still making flan?”
His sunglasses stayed tipped toward the sky. Nothing moved except his mouth. “Why?”
“Just asking.”
“Mm-hmm.”
I glanced back toward Yasmine.
The bikini had reminded me of Mexico, and Mexico had reminded me of flan.
She’d told me about it once, half asleep against my chest. Some tiny restaurant whose name she couldn’t remember.
Best thing I ever put in my mouth, she’d said, which had turned into a very different conversation about ten seconds later.
“Hermano,” Nico said slowly. “What’s with you and desserts lately?”
“It’s for Yaz. She likes it.”
“So what did you do?”
“What do you mean? Nothing.”
“You know pie only works after an apology, right? You trying to get your order in early?”
“Preemptive flan is crazy,” Carter called from the grill without turning around.
I took another drink.
It was a little crazy. I’d been bringing her something sweet every few days, and now here I was trying to source flan through Nico’s cousin like it was a covert op.
I wasn’t looking too closely at it.
In the pool, Annie grabbed for Yasmine’s ankle.
Yasmine kicked free, splashing hard enough to send Ava’s float drifting into Tabby’s.
Tabby jerked upright, one hand flying to the scarf knotted over her hair before the float could tip. “Watch the hair!”
Annie eyed her. “We cannot keep allowing Eurocentric beauty standards to dictate Black women’s relationship with water.”
“Sat three hours for this silk press, Annie. You gonna pay me for my time?”
Annie frowned. “Black women deserve freedom from fear of—”
“No.” Tabby pointed toward the deep end. “Go decolonize over there.”
Ignoring all of this, Nico sat up, set his drink down, and took off his sunglasses.
“Antarctica.”
I met his eyes. “Yep. It’s pretty big for her.”
“Big for you too.”
Well, fuck. Of course he knew.
“This friend group is too fucking close.”
“I’m not in the group chat,” Nico said. “But I am in the group chat.”
Across the pool, Yasmine and Annie were inching toward the deep end, away from Tabby’s wrath. I watched her laugh.
The lack of privacy should’ve bothered me more than it did.
“So?” Nico pressed.
“So, I’m working on it.”
“What’s there to work on?” Grant said easily. “Pack a bag. Get on a plane. Watch your woman photograph penguins for six months.”
Apparently, he was also not in the group chat while somehow being fully briefed by it.
Carter looked over from the grill. “That is an insane oversimplification of what she’s asking.”
Grant frowned. “How?”
“Six months is a long damn time. People have businesses. Mortgages. Responsibilities.”
“And?”
“And Antarctica isn’t a long weekend at the lake.”
Grant shrugged. “My woman needs me somewhere, I’m there.”
“You also have paperwork, shared property, and vows involved,” Carter said. “That makes the answer simpler.”
Grant’s expression barely changed. “Vows wouldn’t make it simple. She would.”
Carter shook his head and turned back to the grill.
“I can’t go,” I said, quieter. “There’s too much here I can’t walk away from.”
Nico didn’t ask what. He was the only person on this patio who wouldn’t have to.
“So instead of telling her that,” he said, “you’re commissioning flan.”
He had a point. The woman I loved had handed me an open door and I was answering with fucking pastry.
Carter set down his tongs and looked at me like I was about to step on a rake.
“Yeah,” I admitted. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”
Nico picked his drink back up. “That’s been obvious for a while, friend.”
The string lights caught the water. Music drifted out over the yard.
The women had started climbing out of the pool, wrapping themselves in towels and still needling one another when the first notes of “Pick Up Your Feelings” came through the speakers.
Every woman by the pool turned toward me.
Tabby pointed. “Hale, this is your ministry.”
“Amen,” Annie said.
Ava started moving her shoulders to the beat. “Come on, voice of her generation.”
Carter made a choking sound behind me. I ignored him.
Annie pulled Tabby into the open space beside the pool. Ava drifted toward Grant. Even Nico was nodding along from his lounge chair.
The song ran out. Something slower came up behind it, and the patio settled without anybody deciding to.
Yasmine smiled, one hand held out toward me. That was what got me moving. I set the bottle down and went to her.
She pulled me into the loose circle, still damp from the pool, her arm sliding around my neck. I settled one hand at her waist while everyone around us sang, swayed, and talked over the music.
“You’re not singing,” she said.
“I have an audience.”
“You’ve never cared before.”
True.
I bent closer and gave her the next line under my breath.
Her whole face changed.
Six weeks.