In the short time they’d been at my table, Karma had barely said anything. Other than her drink order, she’d only given one-word answers to any questions.
How are you?
Good.
Where do you live?
Here.
What do you do?
Everything.
By the time the waitress set my bourbon on the table, replacing the beer I’d already finished, I was ready to down the contents in one gulp. It had been a long day, one of those days that couldn’t be over fast enough, one of those days where the only suitable ending was my dick in someone’s mouth or my face buried between someone’s legs. But after Rissa dipped, I wasn’t confident that would happen. Or even if I wanted it to.
“Asa?” Gemma called out again, her voice sharp, tense.
I met her gaze. “Huh?”
“Are you okay?”
I leaned back against the booth. “I’m fine. When’s the wedding?”
“We wanted to wait until Ezra was one. I want him to walk me down the aisle.” She beamed. “I thought it would be so cute.”
Six months ago, Gemma had given birth to a son, Ezra Jamel Byrd. She’d given him my middle name as a “tribute” to our unconditional friendship. I didn’t argue with her, even though I thought it was a bad idea. But seeing her with her baby, watching her body the important role of mother, made me happy. Because that smile on her face once she finally held him in her arms was something I never thought I’d see again after she lost her parents.
“Yeah, that would be cool,” I agreed.
“Karma wants to adopt him.”
My eyes flashed to her. “What?”
“I know.” She kissed Karma. “I can’t wait to start our lives together.”
I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the table. “As long as you’re happy.”
Tears welled in her eyes. She reached out and squeezed my hand. “I am.”
I flipped my palm, gripping her hand. “That’s all I ever wanted for you.”
“I really think this is meant to be. Karma is an esotericist. She’s super spiritual. Since I met her, she’s opened my mind. I’ve been reading and allowing myself to believe in what can’t be seen. So I know it was no coincidence that we saw you here today.” She glanced around the restaurant. “Were you here with someone?”
“Nah,” I lied. “Just me.”
The server arrived with a pizza and that plate of fried cauliflower and set it in front of me. I thanked him, eyeing the food with disinterest.
“You ordered cauliflower?” Gemma asked incredulously. “Last I checked, you hated that shit.”
Still do. “Thought I’d try something new,” I murmured.
Gemma swiped a piece from the plate and bit into it. “This is good.”
I pushed the plate toward her. “Have at it.”
As she happily ate Rissa’s food, I watched Karma. The other woman was too quiet, and I never trusted anyone who couldn’t string together a complete sentence.
“How’s the baby?” I asked.
