Page 110 of Love, Rekindled

My phone on the bedside table rings, jarring me from the smutty mire of my thoughts. I unplug it from the charger and bring it to my ear, not bothering to check who’s calling.

“Hello,” I yawn into the phone, swiping a hand down my face and frowning at the black and fuchsia smears on my palm. I broke the cardinal rule of makeup removal last night.

“Me sistah,” Janice, my eldest sibling, drawls from the other line, exaggerating her island lilt. She actually does have a little bit left from living in Trinidad longer than I did and learning to talk while she was there. “What are you doing this fine morning?”

“Nothing much.” I sit up and prop my back against the headboard. “Just laying around, looking like yesterday.”

“How’d the fashion show go? You see any celebrities?”

“A few. I met Lotus Ross, of course.”

“I love her stuff.”

“Same.” I lick my lips before going on. “There were lots of basketball players there. Her husband, Kenan, had recruited a lot of his friends, so I met a few ballers.”

I pause, tugging the sheet up to cover my breasts. I’ve never told Janice about that one night with Naz. I was especially hesitant when it became clear what a sore subject he became for Cliff, and by extension, the rest of my family.

“You know this old married lady lives vicariously through you, Tee. Please tell me you smashed some rich, famous, fine-ass baller.”

I get out of bed, slipping a short silk robe on over my thong. Leaving it to hang open, I pad barefoot to the kitchen.

“How about a kiss?” I ask, not sure how much I should tell her or how she’ll respond. She knows as well as I do how Cliff feels about Naz.

“Who was it? Anybody I know?”

“Um…” I start my coffee machine. “Nazareth Armstrong?”

For a few extended seconds, the drip of my coffee is the only sound. Is she even breathing?

“Hellooo?” I ask, forcing a laugh. “Is this thing on?”

“You saw Naz? YoukissedNaz?”

“Wasn’t the first time,” I mutter, fitting the phone between my ear and shoulder to grab yogurt from the fridge.

“What does that mean? What you ’bout, Tee?”

“The night before the championship game, Cliff had the team over for dinner.”

“Yeah, and?”

“That’s the night I met Naz, and something clicked with us. We talked for hours up on the roof.”

“And you kissed him?”

“Yeah, and it was like… I don’t know. Girl, it was like magic.” I chuckle self-consciously, knowing how fanciful I must sound to my notoriously pragmatic older sister.

“Why am I just now hearing ’bout this?”

“Really, Neecey? Naz’s name was mud in our house. It’s not like he and I had a relationship. We had a connection. It felt real and good and like potential, but after what happened, I couldn’t do that to Cliff.”

“And you just ran into him at the show after all this time?”

“I literally tripped and fell into his arms.” I pour a generous serving of coffee in one of my manyBreakfast at Tiffany’smugs, this one sporting a sketch of Holly Golightly wearing her sleep mask.

“And you got to talk after the show?”

“There was an after-party at Lotus’s house, and he kind of dragged me downstairs to the pool room.”

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