Page 68 of Love Overdose: St. Louis

I licked my lips, thinking of her pussy. “Not yet.”

“Elijah.”

“I’ll eat before I leave.”

“You better.”

“How was dinner?”

“Delicious. Excessive, but delicious. My mother wants to know what you do when you make a big mistake.”

“I don’t make big mistakes.”

Frankie laughed. “That confidence.”

“It’s served me well.”

“You made Mama’s night. She kept saying, ‘That doctor sent all this?’ Then she packed herself a plate for tomorrow.”

“She was supposed to.”

“And Malik ate more macaroni than I expected. You won him over without meeting him.”

“I’m glad he enjoyed it.”

“He did.” Her voice softened. “Thank you for thinking about him.”

“He’s part of your life.”

“The biggest part.”

“I know.”

Silence stretched between us, but it wasn’t empty. Her television murmured in the background while a cart rolled past my office outside.

“Were you really disappointed?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“Tell me about it.”

“I spent an hour getting dressed. My mother came over early. I had Malik settled, and I was excited.” She paused. “Then you called.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know. And I meant what I said—I’m not angry. But I don’t want to become so understanding that I pretend it doesn’t affect me.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“I’ve spent a lot of years adjusting my life around what other people need. Sometimes I don’t know whether I’m being accommodating or disappearing.”

My soul felt heavy at her words.

“I don’t want you to disappear for me.”

“I don’t think you do.”

“Then don’t make yourself smaller to fit into my schedule. If I disappoint you, let me know. If you’re angry, tell me that too.”