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“I’m sorry. I thought this was a group conversation.”
“You thought wrong.”
The catty exchange has me glancing between the two women. I wasn’t aware tensions were rising or there were any issues.
“Am I missing something? Why are you two talking to each other like you’re mortal enemies?”
“Nobody’s anybody’s enemy,” Sasha says.
“I don’t care enough to have enemies,” Medjine folds her arms as if trying to act unbothered.
I blink. “Okay… because it sounds like there’s a problem.”
“No problem. I should go. See you later…Delphine.”
Medjine excuses herself without much more of a goodbye. I watch her go, so perplexed that at first I don’t notice Dominic’s trying to get my attention.
He’s such a happy baby that he’s waving his set of glowing toy keys up at me. I smile down at him and kiss him on the cheek.
“Mama,” he coos. “Keys.”
“Yes, Dom. Keys! Good job, baby.” I rattle them for him to his light laughter. Once he’s entertaining himself with more shakes of his keys, I round on Sasha. “What’s going on with you and Medjine?”
She shrugs. “How should I know? It’s her issue.”
We carry on down our walking path. Since it’s a Sunday, the local park’s more crowded than usual. Families of all kinds sit in the grass soaking up the sun and young children run far, in the middle of games of tag.
My security crew for the day surround us like a human wall, a few paces behind and a few ahead.
It’s become such a regular everyday occurrence for me—and by association for Medjine and Sasha—that I barely notice we’re technically not alone.
Stitches is part of our detail. He walks ahead of us, throwing the occasional glance over his shoulder. I’d think nothing of it if he weren’t being so obviously nosy, so obviously focused on more than me.
It dawns on me what could be going on.
“Wait, this is about the three of you,” I say. “So I’m guessing that act at our dinner party month’s ago wasn’t so much of an act?”
“We’re fine. Everything’s fine.”
“It didn’t look or sound fine. You know I’m not taking anyone’s side, right?” I ask.
We gravitate toward a park bench that’s freed up. Our security adjusts to the unplanned change of course by changing direction right alongside us.
A sigh leaves Sasha as she takes her seat and plops Bryce into her lap. “Medjine’s upset with me about something.”
“Yeah, already figured that out. I’m guessing it really is about a guy I know? About five-eleven, wire-framed glasses, very funny but has a tendency to ramble?”
Sasha’s bashful bat of her lashes tells me what I need to know. So does Stitches dozenth glance in our direction.
“The two of you,” I say.
“Yes.”
“And she’s upset about it,” I continue to Sasha’s head nod. “Because she went out with him first.”
“Correct.”
“But… didn’t they only go on one date? The Pink Hearts Gala?”
