Page 46 of Love's Free Will

Ihad been dodging my mother’s calls for the last 72 hours, ever sinceTea And HoneyandLipstick Confidentialdecided to out me and Royal to the world. And of course, like clockwork, she’d been blowing up my phone like the blogs owed her a courtesy heads-up.

But instead of dealing with the storm that was Allison St. Claire, I decided to spend the day with two women who actually made me feel safe and loved, Queenie and Princess.

They invited me to join them for a self-care day the night I had dinner with them before Royal and I left, and I said yes before I could talk myself out of it. We were atKlaws by Kelli, a dope little Black-owned nail and beauty spa in the heart of Buckhead. Real cute vibes—plush velvet chairs, champagne flowing, Lauryn Hill playing through the speakers, and the smell of expensive shea butter hanging in the air.

I was in a soft pink floral sun dress, legs soaking in a rose petal foot bath while Queenie chatted with her nail tech about old Atlanta and Princess scrolled on her phone next to me, barely hiding her side-eyes every time someone tried to touch her cuticles.

I was mid-sip on my mimosa when my phone buzzed again, and my mama’s name flashed across the screen… again. I rolled my eyes so hard I nearly saw my own brain.

“You good, baby?” Queenie asked, glancing over her glasses.

I faked a smile. “Yeah, just my mom. She’s... persistent.”

“You don’t have to answer,” she said gently. “She can wait; there’s no stress on self-care day.”

Yeah, she could. But I already knew she’d keep calling till I either picked up or she showed up at my apartment like she paid rent. So, with a deep breath and a silent prayer, I slid my finger across the screen.

“Hey, Ma.”

“Are the blogs true?” my mother snapped immediately. No greeting, no manners. Typical. I was glad she was in my Air pods.

“Depends on what you mean by ‘true,’” I said slowly, trying not to let Queenie catch on to her tone.

“Don’t get smart with me, Averi St. Claire,” she hissed. “Are you really dating that rapper boy? That Royal… or whatever he calls himself?”

I glanced at Queenie again and turned my head slightly. “First of all, that’s his actual name and secondly, yes, Mama I am.” I felt Princess’ eyes on me, but I didn’t look her way.

“Unbelievable. You told me—you told me—nothing was going on between you two. So, you’re a liar now? Since when does the daughter, I raised lie to me?”

I sighed hard as hell, rubbing my temples.

“We weren’t together then,” I said, keeping my voice low. “Things changed.”

“So, you’re just flaunting your rebellion in the blogs now? I had to find out like the rest of the world that my daughter is in bed with a thug?”

I shut my eyes, breathing through the fury threatening to bubble up.

“I’m not having this conversation with you right now. I’m in public so?—”

“Well, you’re going to have it somewhere. I want him over for dinner. Tomorrow night.”

My stomach dropped. “Mama, that’s not a good idea?—”

“I wasn’t asking, Averi. I want to see this boy face to face. 7 p.m. sharp.”

And before I could answer, she hung up on me.

Back in my apartment,I was sitting on the floor in leggings and a hoodie talking to Egypt on Facetime, damn near hugging a bottle of wine like it was going to easily resolve my issues. My finger kept flickering the Bic in my hand, which I had intended to use to light the blunt sitting in the ashtray beside me, but my mind kept going back to that conversation with my mama, distracting me. I hadn’t even turned on music or lit a candle. I was too deep in my head.

“Girl, I’m telling you,” I muttered into my phone, “this woman is going to be the reason I need bail money.”

Egypt laughed on the other end. “Tell me why she’s acting like Royal stole her purse? Ms. Allison is trippin.”

“She hates him,” I sighed. “Like, actual disdain. She don’t even know him and already made up her mind.”

“She hates that he’s not some bougie-ass, Ivy League, golf club-attending nigga,” Egypt corrected. “That’s it. Period.”

I sipped more wine. “I shouldn’t go right?”

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