Page 86 of Love Overdose: St. Louis

“He’s telling you it’s Miles Morales,” Frankie explained.

I studied the screen. “That isn’t Peter Parker?”

Malik laughed.

“Thank you for correcting me.”

His shoulders moved as he laughed.

For the next half hour, Malik guided me through a movie I had apparently been negligent in not seeing. I asked questions. He responded with expressions, hand movements, and occasional sounds that Frankie understood easily.

She didn’t speak for him unless I needed help. Most of the time, I didn’t.

Malik’s attention was his way of communication. His face sharpened when I guessed incorrectly. His smile answered questions before Frankie could. When I asked whether the villain frightened him, the look he gave me was wrapped in AAVE.

“I shouldn’t have underestimated you.”

He smiled. Frankie covered her mouth, but her laughter escaped around her fingers.

“What?”

“He accepted your apology.”

“As he should.”

“You two are doing fine without me.”

I met her gaze over Malik’s chair.

“We are.”

Amelia returned carrying a tray with three bowls of peach cobbler and vanilla ice cream. She set one in front of me.

“I didn’t tell you how much I wanted.”

“You’re a grown man. Eat what you can.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“That ‘ma’am’ will get you far in this house.”

“Mama, stop interviewing him.”

“I haven’t started.”

I took a bite of cobbler: warm peaches and cinnamon blended with the melting ice cream.

“This is excellent.”

Amelia sat in the chair beside mine. “Thank you.”

Frankie pointed her spoon at me. “Be careful. Compliment her cooking too much, and she’ll send you home with enough food for the week.”

“That isn’t a warning.”

“You say that now.”

Malik made a sound beside her.