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“The boy’s food, Tricia?” Dad always had my back.
“Until I understand what he did to that sweet woman, he doesn’t deserve this homecooked meal.”
My mouth hung open. “Mama, for real?” The buttery taste mingled with syrup, and the cheese in the eggs. I wanted it all. “What do you want to know?”
“Exactly what I said. What did you do?” Mama looked at me like I had more sense than I let on.
“I disinvited her to the Denver game.” The smell of breakfast still filled the room. Even with the heavy feeling of shame on my back. “Then.” I didn’t even want to say the next part. Mama would toss my food in the trash. “I may have alluded to the fact that she was only interested in me being a pro athlete.”
Her hand smacked my arm before I saw it coming. “Boy.”
My dad looked away from me. “You on your own,” he grumbled.
“What made you say that?”
“Because she got upset when I told her not to come.”
Mama didn’t curse often. When she did, the words came out with a sharpness that let you know she was blaming you for her guilt of using it. “Dammit boy. She was mad because youdisinvitedher. Who wouldn’t be? Hell, I would be mad. If she never gave you any indication before then, why would youjumpto that conclusion.”
I had no answer. Couldn’t even formulate one to get my breakfast back.
She cracked her fingers. Something I never saw her do. “This is what you need to do.” She edged my plate closer. “Listen now. You call her. No, matter of fact, you go see her. In person. Bring her a gift, beg her forgiveness. Allow her time to accept it. If she’s the woman I think she is, the woman who will fill this house with love, then it will work out.”
I cringed around a bite of food before shoveling down another. I needed to finish as much as possible before I told her the plan was a no go. With a piece of sausage hanging from my mouth, I said, “I don’t know about that, Mama. This isn’t the seventies. We not doing all that anymore.”
Dad grabbed his plate and moved around the counter. I should have done the same, because the lash of words that came from my mama next had me clenching my eyes closed.
“You could learn a thing or two from the men that came before you. Over here fucking up and not willing to make it right. What the hell I’mma do with you?”
“Mama,” I sighed, “I’mma make it right. Just not like that.” I didn’t exactly have a plan. I knew I wanted Gigi back, so I’d think of something. Nothing that resembled what her ex did though. I wouldn’t be showing up on her doorstep unannounced. I couldn’t tell Mama that. She didn’t exactly know about Gigi’s engagement a week before I met her.
“You better,” she warned with her fork pointed toward me.
ChapterTwenty-Five
Gianna
Phoenix ranged from one level of heat to another. And as the monthscooledit made me more prone to getting out of the office for lunch. I wasn’t ready to date, as Georgia and Tatiana insisted, not a man anyway. I was dating my damn self.
Seated at the best restaurants in the city, alone. Eating and reading a book was how I spent most of my days since making the grand decision. I didn’t need a man to join me. Honestly, I wasn’t ready for the disappointment it could lead to if I was to entertain one.
Did I still think of Angelo? On occasion. Did I miss him? Sometimes. Did I want to reconcile? I wasn’t sure. The weeks we spent together were some of the greatest in my life. The highest of highs. But that disappointment in the end, probably top two of the lowest of lows. And the back-to-back trauma. Well, I don’t know if my heart could take any more of that.
At night, I prayed God would send me my guy, and make it known andeasy.I imagined God laughed at me. With his intimate knowledge of men, He knew they were challenging.
A girl couldpraythough.
Seated at my favorite restaurant, I picked over my salad. It didn’t have the flavor that made me return there at least once a week. I waited on my entrée and hoped it’d be better. I could use the boost of mid-day joy to make it through my afternoon of patients.
Each time the door opened I watched as someone strolled in. The laughter that often filled the groups walking to their tables. The somberness that accompanied the solo diners like myself. Then the next man that walked in had me watching him until he walked to the bar.
It’d been weeks since the last time I saw Angelo.In person.I still couldn’t drag my ass away from watching his games on Sunday. And similarly, I stared at him as he ordered. As if a commentator would announce his next play.
“Here you are.” The waitress set my steak and potatoes in front of me. “Hope you enjoy.” She frowned as she looked at my salad. “Not good this week?”
I shook my head but didn’t want to cause a fuss. Talking to her was like the commercial that interrupted the game. I didn’t need the disruption. I wanted totunein to each play. “It was fine, saving space for this.” I picked up my fork and made a show of cutting a piece of the steak.
She sauntered away, and thegameresumed. Except, instead of leaning over the bar to order, Angelo was scanning the room.Shit.From my seat in the restaurant, it would only be seconds before his eyes landed on me. Dead and center for him to see. There was no hiding, even if I wanted to. I couldn’t escape to the bathroom, couldn’t dash outside without him noticing.
