She patted her belly. “Absolutely. For us.”
My mind drifted to Wes. Being home had been a whirlwind for me. I came here expecting to heal and I ended up entangled in a push-pull relationship with my ex-boyfriend. “It feels like we’ve just been away from each other for a day, not sixteen years,” I mused. “He thinks we can get it right this time.”
“What do you think?”
“I don’t want to get hurt again.”
“Sis, you said it yourself. He was a kid. So were you. Yes, he hurt you, but you both were young. Dealing with a love that was big, all-consuming. Some people never find it, and you experienced it as a teenager. Now you have the chance to feel it again. You’re both here. You’re both single.”
I nibbled on my thumbnail. “I cried so much for him. About him. I was that girl, curled up in a fetal position afraid to move on because that would make the heartbreak real. I wasn’t myself.”
She flashed a sad smile. “I know. I was there, remember?”
“I never want to feel that pain again. I never want to feel so weak again.”
“Albany, you’re not a sixteen-year-old girl anymore. You’re a strong woman.”
“Who lost everything. I just got a divorce.”
“From a man you didn’t really love like that,” she tossed back.
I fiddled with the edge of my throw. “What makes you say that?”
“Because you’ve never looked like you do now when talking about Darrell. That look in your eyes, the one you have now … Even though you’re trying to convince yourself that Wes is not the guy for you, that spark is unmistakable. You still love him.”
I squeezed my eyes shut as warmth spread through my body. “Sometimes I don’t think I ever stopped.”
“So why not give it a try. Maybe it will work out this time.”
“What if it doesn’t? Maybe I just need to start fresh, move out of Detroit. Away from the past.”
“You can’t move, Albany. What about your dreams?”
“I can run Keyes Investigations from anywhere.”
“What about being happy?” she asked.
“With Wes?” I stood up and gathered our empty plates. “Who says he can make me happy. The past between us is so wide and deep, what if we can’t cross the divide?”
Bri scooted off the chaise lounge and approached me. “Either way, you can’t just move around the country running from your feelings. Besides, I selfishly need you here. And you promised you’d help me with whatever I needed.”
I cracked a smile and hugged my friend. “And I meant it.”
“Good. Steak and potatoes tomorrow.”
Shoving her playfully, I shuffled to the kitchen. “Yeah, yeah.”
Clear blue skies and scorching temperatures ushered in the holiday. Grandma had thought of everything, from personal fans to Stanley cups filled with water to keep it cold. The food table was full of cultural Fourth of July fare—barbecued ribs, pulled pork, grilled and fried chicken, hamburgers, hot sausages, brats, coleslaw, potato salad, deviled eggs, baked beans, and so much dessert, I couldn’t figure out where to start first.
But I ended up where I always ended up—with a slice of pound cake topped with fruit and whipped cream.Yum.
When Bri and I arrived earlier, she’d dipped off to relax in the air conditioning, while I made my rounds. Yet, as I walked through the sea of people in the massive backyard, I noticed something peculiar.
Grandma had invited all her friends, the women she played poker with, her old colleagues, and some family. She’d also invited Ace, who’d brought his grandson along with his family. But the rest of the guests were my age and younger. Single men and women, mingling with each other.Odd.
Typically, these soirees consisted of smooth R & B blaring over the speakers, dancing, cards, and food. But it seemed like there were a lot of hookups going on. Men whispering in women’s ears, flirting with each other, while Grandma and her friends weaved through the crowd.
I took a bite of cake.
