Page 29

“Hey, love. You good?” He kisses my forehead and looks down at me.

“Just tired. Long night at the club,” I whisper.

“It’s okay. You’re here now.” He reaches over to the table and grabs a piece of cake. “Try this.”

I take a bite of the vanilla wedding cake sample. It’s not like I have much of an appetite. The sweet buttercream flavor melts on my tongue. “Mmm… this is good.”

“We can make it fancy and as many layers as you like, Ms. Davis,” the baker says, smiling at me.

“I like this,” I say, nodding. I don’t even sit down. There’s no point. It’s simple: we pick the cake and let’s go on with our day.

“But do you love it?” Anthony asks me.

I groan internally. Nigga, it’s just a wedding cake. As long as it’s good, that’s all that matters. They could’ve picked this without me.

“Yes,” I nod.

“Try the other ones,” Anthony says, sitting down. He pulls me down to sit next to him at the table.

I go through the motions and try the different cakes. Anthony feeds me each one and does it with a smile. He’s such a sweetheart. I can’t imagine my life without him.

My mother walks in and spreads her arms. “It’s good, right?” she says in a honeyed voice.

I raise an eyebrow at her. Of course, she’s going to be upbeat and nice in front of the baker lady.

“I love the Funfetti type,” she adds.

“Mama, I’m not having a Funfetti wedding cake. I’m between the vanilla and the red velvet.”

“Whatever you want,” Anthony says, rubbing my back.

“You two are just so cute together. I knew you two would fall in love when you always sat next to each other at school,” my mother gushes.

I laugh at her. “Mama, you’re just saying that.”

The door bursts open and Tank walks in.

My stomach clenches. What is he doing here? My father steps into the room. “Well, if it isn’t the lovely two lovebirds,” my father announces. His voice booms into the space.

I swallow hard, because I’m definitely not in the mood for his theatrics.

My father goes over to my mother and kisses her on the lips. But she pulls away from him.

“What’s the matter, Mika?” my father taunts her. “You missing a nigga.”

“I need a cigarette.” My mother steps out, her heels clicking against the floor.

“Zariyanna Montrella, you’ve been quite the busy one,” My father says.

My mom’s heels stop, and she turns around.

“Yeah, busy planning this wedding.”

My father shakes his finger. “No, you’re getting involved in things you have no business in.”

My stomach drops harder, like I’m on a damn roller coaster. Oh no. How does he even know? Is he talking about Drey or the events?

“I can give you all a minute.” The baker walks to the back, and her office door closes.