She shrugged. “Having fun.”
“Is that it?” I couldn’t mask the annoyance in my tone, which frustrated me even more. “I mean, I’ve been to work functions, you’ve visited me at work . . .”
“Yeah, but it’s just us in those places, Asa. We don’t have to explain anything.”
I twisted my bottle of beer. “Whatever, Rissa.”
“Don’t be mad,” she said, resting her chin on my shoulder. “I promise it has nothing to do with me being ashamed of you.”
“Or me being younger than you, right?”
Frowning, she shook her head. “No. I don’t care about that.”
For some reason, I didn’t believe her and that sucked. I took a long gulp of beer and set the bottle on the table. “Fine.”
“I should probably go to the bathroom.” She slid out of the booth and dashed around the corner quickly, careful not to make too much noise.
Seconds later, I heard a gasp. “Asa?!”
I glanced up, surprised to see Gemma standing there, her hand on her hip. “What up, doe?”
“What the fuck? You’re here. I thought you were busy tonight?”
Scanning the restaurant for Rissa, I made up an excuse. “I needed to eat.”
“Wow, I’m so glad you’re here.” She called her friend over. “I wanted you to meet somebody special.”
My phone buzzed on the table. Peering at the screen, I noticed the text from Rissa. “Okay,” I said absently, reading the message.
Rissa
I snuck out the back. I’ll call you.
Rissa
Don’t forget my cauliflower.
This couldn’t be real. Because I was in uncharted territory. In my thirty-three, almost thirty-four years of life, I’d never let a woman give me the flux like this. Not even Tameka Powell in high school put me through this shit. Even after she dumped me right before prom for her ex-boyfriend, I didn’t even give a fuck. I went to prom by my damn self and took somebody else’s date home. With zero regret. And now I was twisted up in knots over my big sister’s best friend, the same woman I’d just made come minutes earlier, the same woman who’d just walked out on me like I wasn’t shit to her.
I didn’t like it.
I hated it.
“Asa, this is Karma,” Gemma said with a proud grin. “We’re getting married.”
“We’re getting married!”
I stared at Gemma as she went on and on about Karma. The way they met, the first time they went on a date, her preferred pronouns, and the reason she thought this was it for her.
It wasn’t the first time she’d announced an engagement, so I struggled to find the appropriate cautious but concerned tone. Especially in front of mixed company.
“Asa?” she called, waving a hand in my face.
I blinked myself out of my thoughts. “Wow,” was all I got out.
“Aren’t you happy for me?”
My gaze drifted to the person sitting next to her. Gemma proclaimed that Karma was the true “the love of her life”. But I couldn’t muster up congratulations because this whole thing felt like some twisted sort ofKarma. Pun intended.
