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‘There’s a way you hold yourself, and then there’s your accent. French?’
I let out a surprised laugh.
‘Okay, point to you. My mother, Théa, was born and raised in Paris.’
‘And the rest?’ he murmured.
‘My late father, Augustine, was Mauritanian.’
‘Sorry to hear about his passing.’
I shrugged and shot him a soft smile.
‘Merci. It was a few years ago. They met in New Orleans back in their student days, but Nashville was where they settled.’
He cocked a brow, intrigued. ‘What was living with that dynamic like?’
‘A total trip,’ I admitted, my voice dropping. ‘Our home was a little wild and loud, with French and Creole bouncing off the walls, an endless rotation of music from Sega and grime to Southern soul and Afrobeats. Plus a kitchen smelling of Mauritanian spices mixed with classic Gallic cooking. Outside the house, my dad was a senior executive at BNP Paribas in downtown Nashville, which meant I went to a hyper-exclusive private school with zero diversity. Balancing the two dynamics was my normal.’
‘Sounds like a lot to navigate,’ Deacon rasped.
‘It was. Back then, I just wanted to blend in. I used to feel self-conscious about my family standing out, our culture, the music we played, my parents’ thick accents when they spoke. I tried so hard to act like everyone else.’
Deacon’s gaze softened, a deep, understanding silence stretching between us. ‘And now?’
‘Now? I’m proud as hell,’ I muttered, holding his eyes. ‘I realized that rich, crazy mix, the languages, the food, the music in my playlists, was my superpower. It gave me my rhythm, my perspective, and my fire. I wouldn’t trade a single piece of my heritage for anything.’
‘I get it,’ he rumbled. ‘I’m Australian-Kenyan. My mixed lineage is my pride, but I didn’t always vibe with it. In my mid-teens, I got confused about which side I identified with most, and I struggled to navigate between the two. It wasn’t until I visited Kenya and appreciated my ancestry that I realized I am both and proudly so.’
He asked me how I knew Sarah, and I shared.
He then told me she was a neighbor in Germantown, one of Nashville’s oldest neighborhoods, famous for its beautifully preserved brick buildings and cobblestone streets.
‘I used to hang out with her brother Sebastian, before I left for the Australian Army.’
He went on to tell me about his stint in the military.
‘How long did you serve?’
‘Six years, two as a grunt, four in the SAS.’
‘Woah, soldier.’
‘It was wild, not always in a good way.’
I caught a touch of sadness in his eyes as he broke eye contact.
‘Lost a few good mates, made a hella lot more.’
Damn.
‘Give me your best war stories.’
He indulged me, and I laughed so hard I wiped away tears.
I then shared about my journalism degree and my side hustle as a model.
He teased me about the juxtaposition of the two careers, debating with quiet, fierce intelligence.
