I noticed but I didn’t say anything.
The main house came into view and I watched her face shift the second she saw it. The mansion sat at the end of its own private road, surrounded by land that my father had spent thirty years acquiring. It was the kind of house that made a statement without trying. Stone exterior, iron gates, manicured grounds, three floors with a full east and west wing. It had been my whole world growing up and I’d stopped seeing it a long time ago because when I became a man, I got my own. She was seeing it for the first time.
I still didn’t say anything, I let her take it all in because soon, this life would be hers.
We pulled through the gate and the truck rolled to a stop in the circular drive. I turned to her before either one of us moved.
“Look at me.”
She turned from the window.
“When we walk in there you’re going to act like you want to be here,” I said. “You’re going to be respectful. You’re going to smile when you’re supposed to smile. My mother is going to ask you questions and you’re going to answer every single one of them like you’ve got some sense and some home training. You’re going to entertain her, you’re going to be present at that table, and you are not going to do or say anything that makes this harder than it has to be.” I held her gaze. “You do that, you get privileges back slowly. You don’t, and the outhouse on the south end of the property becomes your new room until you figure out how to act like a grown woman who understands what’s asked and expected of her.”
Her eyes went flat. “The outhouse.”
“Like a dog,” I said. “Your choice.”
She stared at me for a long moment. Her jaw was tight and her eyes said everything her mouth was smart enough not to say out loud.
“A lot is riding on this,” I said. “More than you even know right now. So I’m going to need you to make this easy on both of us for the next hour. After that you can go back to hating everything about your life. But in there?” I nodded toward the front door. “You better put on the best show of your life, acting as if you are thrilled to be becoming a Carter. That last name means everything to my mother. Be smart, and don’t disrespect it.”
She smoothed the front of her dress down. Sat up straight. Looked at me one more time.
“Open the door,” she said.
I almost smiled.
I didn’t.
I got out and she followed and we walked toward the front door of my parents house together for the first time like two people who had something to lose.
—
My mother was already at the table when we walked in.
That was intentional. I felt like she wanted to show her dominance as the woman of the family. She felt like greeting and waiting on the next woman would diminish her powers. Zuri Carter didn’t wait on anybody, including her oldest son and the woman he was about to marry. She was seated at the head of the long dining table with her coffee in front of her and her back straight and her eyes on the door like she’d been counting down the seconds until we walked through it.
My father was beside her, relaxed, one arm draped over the back of his chair the way he always sat when he wanted everybody around him to feel like everything was under control. He stood up when he saw us and spread his arms wide.
“There they are,” he said, like we were guests at a party instead of his son and a woman I’d had snatched out of her driveway less than twenty four hours ago. That was Kadeem Carter. He could make anything feel like a celebration. “Tattiana. Welcome to our home, baby girl. Come on in.”
Tatti smiled. It was the right smile — warm enough to read as genuine, tight enough that I could see the effort behind it. Shewalked in beside me and shook my father’s hand then said thank you like she meant it.
I watched my father’s eyes move over her in a way that let me know he was trying to figure her out. The look was quick, assessing, filing information away. He nodded once like he’d confirmed something he already suspected.
“Sit, sit,” he said, waving toward the chairs. “Zuri, look at her. Didn’t I tell you?”
My mother looked.
She had been looking since we walked through the door but now she did it openly. Head slightly tilted, eyes moving from Tatti’s face down and back up again, the way my mother assessed everything that came into her house. She did it with furniture. She did it with my father’s associates. She was doing it now with my future wife and she wasn’t trying to be subtle about it.
“Tattiana,” my mother said. Not a greeting. Just the name. Like she was confirming it.
“Yes ma’am,” Tatti said. Still smiling. Still performing exactly the way I told her to. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“You can call me Mrs. Carter,” my mother said, and picked up her coffee. “For the time being.”
I saw something flicker across Tatti’s face. It was gone in a second but I caught it.
