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Mom ladles the stew into bowls and takes the warm bread from the oven. We all sit down around the table, and Kai offers to give thanks. “I’m grateful for this bussin’ food that my mother prepared. I’m thankful for these Sunday dinners. And I’m thankful for my big brother.”
“That’s lovely, Kai.” My mother sends me a meaningful glance.
I force a tight smile, not fooled by his BS, but I promised to try.
“So, honey, tell us about this new love interest of yours,” my mother asks as we start eating.
“She’s amazing,” Kai gushes. “I thought Leo might have blown it for me.”
The fine hairs on my neck rise like spikes. “What are you talking about?”
“Jazz Legend.”
My spoon clatters against the bowl. Fuck no.
“That’s such an iconic name,” my mother comments. “Why would you think Leo ruined it for you?”
“Jazz owns this new gym,” Kai explains, while I struggle to process what the hell is going on. “You’ve probably seen her flyers around the neighbourhood. Fit Fabulous.”
“Fab Fitness,” I correct through clenched teeth.
“Right.” He snaps his fingers. “I keep forgetting.”
“Are those the cute pink ones?”
“Yeah,” Kai confirms.
“I was thinking about trying one of her dance-fit classes,” my mother announces to my horror.
“You should,” Kai encourages. “I told Jazz she could put up her flyers at F.!.T.. I didn’t think Leo would mind since he said her business model sucked?—”
“I said it was flawed,” I interject, no longer believing my own words.
“Same diff.” He shrugs. “I might have implied to Jazz that I was the gym manager.”
“You didn’t imply it, you said it,” my voice and head throb. “You lied.”
“That’s why Leo was so angry the other night,” my mother says, piecing it together. “You lied to her, Kai?”
“It was just a little white lie.” He pinches his forefinger and thumb together. “I was trying to impress her. But Leo got all worked up about the flyers and confronted Jazz. I called her to apologize, and she was really cool about it. We ended up going out a couple of times.”
This cannot be happening. My life has gone from heaven to hell in a matter of hours.
“I’m glad you apologized and that Jazz took it well,” my mother says, babying him as if she’s proud of her naughty child for apologizing over scribbling crayon on a wall. “But you just met her, honey. Isn’t it a little soon to be in love?”
He shrugs and dips a piece of bread into the stew and stuffs it into his mouth. “I know it seems sudden, but the heart wants what it wants.”
Jesus. He’s quoting something he probably saw on TikTok. I’m surprised I can keep the stew down. We have never gone for the same woman. Why the hell did it have to be Jazz?
“Does she feel the same?” my mother asks.
“Yeah,” he replies confidently, “she definitely does.”
“How do you know?” I challenge him, unable to believe it’s true.
“A man knows,” he says with a wink. “But I don’t kiss and tell.”
I crumple the napkin in my white-knuckled fist, wanting nothing more than to knock that smug grin off his face.
