I shake my head and regain my composure. “No, no, it’s okay. Don’t apologize, and it didn’t sound cavalier at all. I mean, grief doesn’t look the same on different people.”
“Thanks for saying that.” His shoulders heave with a heavy sigh. “Actually, she’s the reason I stopped to talk to you at the bar. Your perfume—it smells like a flower she always had in the house. I couldn’t remember the name and was going to ask you.”
He casts me a sideways, bashful glance. I want to give him a hug. “It’s Jasmine. I wear an oil made with it. Have for a long time.”
“Thank you. I’m going to write it down so I don’t forget. It’s strange to talk about her in the past tense. I’m still getting used to the fact that she’s gone.”
His smile is so sad, my heart squeezes. “Were you close?”
“No, but I loved her. I’m glad I got to tell her.”
I put a hand on his shoulder and pat him. “Was it sudden?”
“Yes.” He stares blankly at his glass, and I wish I’d given him a hug instead.
“She must have been so proud of you. Having a kid who’s a lawyer is literally the American dream.”
He nods and some of the light comes back to his eyes. “I’m a prosecutor, not quite high-flying enough for them.” He snorts a laugh. “We didn’t come to America so our son could be a public servant.” He speaks in an excellent imitation of the postcolonial British accents of our parents’ generation.
I burst out laughing. “Oh my God, they’re all the same.”
He shakes his head in a wry laugh. “Yours, too?”
“They’re supportive. Definitely not as strict as some of the other Ghanaian parents I know, but they’re also not shy about expressing their disappointment that I chose journalism over medicine.”
He smiles wistfully. “It’s like you owe them something, right?”
“We do,” I say. “They gave up a lot for us.”
“Yes.” He shrugs. “Who asked them to? They made the choices that were best for them, but I don’t think that creates some sort of cosmic debt. I admire your sense of duty, Sin, but I hope you have the same energy for your own dreams, too.”
That’s not how I was raised to think about family. My dreams are theirs and theirs are mine. But there’s a truth in his words that I’m finally in the position to accept—living to make everyone else happy and proud is why I’m so unhappy today. “Thank you for saying that.”
“It’s true. You’ve got one life. You deserve to live it.”
Who knew words of affirmations could be such a panty dropper? I’m glad I came back. “Are you done eating?” I ask.
He glances at the table, scanning the plates as if to make sure he’s licked every single one of them clean. “Yeah. I guess so. Are you ready to go?”
I shake my head.
One eyebrow quirks up. “Do you want to see the dessert menu?” He looks around for our server.
“I already know what I want,” I say in a voice laced with innuendo.
His eyes come back to mine and a sexy smile curves his lush mouth. “Oh? And what would that be?”
I drop my eyes and then look up at him through my eyelashes. “Youlive in LA and I,” I point at the center of my chest and let my finger drift down before I continue, “as you mentioned, live in New York.”
“But tonight, we’re here,” he finishes my thought and we share a smile.
I sit back. “Andonlytonight. If your proposition is still on the table.”
“It is.” His smile is so sensual, it could melt the lock off a chastity belt.
My lace panties don’t stand a chance. “Then, I’d like to take you up on it.”
My heart is racing, my whole body is warm and my skin is tingling.
