Page 59 of Can't Get Enough

“Of course it is,” I reply, making sure to hide my disappointment. “She hasn’t had as much time with you as I have. You guys should catch up.”

When LaTanya decided to flee America a couple elections ago, I understood. Considering the mint she made when she sold her shares of True Playahs, she never has to work again and can live anywhere in the world. She chose Ghana and has dedicated her life to improving maternal mortality rates all over the world through the foundation she established a few years ago. We gave Tamia the option to move with her or remain in the States with me. I was fully prepared to split my time between the two continents if Tamia chose to live there, but she chose the States. Her best friends were here, and that became a deciding factor. We ensured she saw her mother whenever she wanted, but the day-to-day raising fell to me, and it was the greatest privilege of my life.

Also one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. Raising a young girl from the age of ten to a young woman aged eighteen as a single dad, not for the faint of heart.

“How’s Ghana?” I ask, letting the ache of missing my daughter settle like a cannonball in my chest.

“Great.” She gathers a fistful of her long braids. “Got my hair did immediately.”

“As usual.”

“And Ame, Mom’s new housekeeper, makes the best jollof. Like for real. I ask for it every day.” She leans forward on the teak dining room table, the ceiling fan whirring gently overhead. “Don’t tell Laurenz, but I think her cooking may even be better than his.”

I chuckle. “He’d be devastated, so I’ll keep that between us.”

“He probably doesn’t know what to do with himself only cooking for you now that Zere and I are both gone.” Tamia looks down at her fingers folded on the table before hazarding a glance back up at me. “I,um, saw the pics from the All-White Party in Miami. Looked fun as usual.”

“It was aight.” I lean back in my office chair and grimace. “You know that’s not my favorite thing to do.”

“But you did it for Zere,” she says, shooting me a speculative look. “How was that?”

I narrow my eyes at her. She may be LaTanya’s spitting image with her honey-brown skin and big, long-lashed doe eyes, but inside, she’s alarmingly like me. We haven’t discussed my relationship ending, though she knew about it weeks before our press release.

“You know Zee and I parted on good terms, right?” I ask.

“Yeah, she told me.”

“You guys talked?” I ask with a slight frown.

It’s not that I mind. It just hadn’t occurred to me. Zere and I dated for three years. When she moved in with me, she and Tamia became friends living under the same roof. She never postured herself as any kind of substitute for Tamia’s mother, but she was a woman in the house, and that proved helpful when Tamia wanted to learn more about shopping, makeup, and stuff I was ill-equipped for. LaTanya was always present and active, but there were gaps from time to time, and over the last year or so, Zere sometimes stepped into them.

“Yeah, she wanted me to know that even though things ended with you guys,” Tamia says, “she’s still there if I need her.”

“That was sweet,” I say because it is. “How are you feeling about the breakup? I should have asked weeks ago, but you seemed okay with it, so I didn’t dig.”

“I mean, Zere’s great, but I can’t say I saw it lasting forever.”

“Really?” Even though I’d reached the same conclusion and even expressed it to my father, I’d love to hear why my daughter believes it. “Why do you say that?”

“She just never seemed to quite fit.” She shrugs. “I don’t know how to explain it. Sometimes it felt like we had a guest in the house, not because she hadn’t always lived there. Something just didn’t feel likeit connected between the two of you. Not that you didn’t care about her, because I could tell you did. She just never seemed likethe one. Ya know? And you deserve the one.”

I smile. No matter what I accomplish or how much money I obtain, Tamia will remain the best thing I’ve ever done.

“Thank you, Tam.” I force my smile away and try to look at her sternly. “Now don’t think you’re getting off this call without telling me when you’re coming back to get ready for first semester.”

“Yeah, about that…” She lays a pleading look on me, and I already know I won’t like what’s about to come out of her mouth. “I think I want to take a year off.”

“Tam.” I press one hand to my temple. “Everything is all set and ready to go.”

“I’m not, Dad. I’m not all set and ready to go. I want to defer for a year.”

“What?” I struggle to hold onto calm. “You’ve wanted to go to Stanford for as long as I can remember.”

“And I still do, but next year.” She sets her mouth into a familiar firm line. “You deferred a year.”

“Yeah, and I ended up never finishing.”

“No, you ended up receiving an honorary degree because you accomplished so much even without staying there four years.”

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