Page 123 of I Think They Love You

Formerly Known As Bray

Of course.

Denz almost doesn’t hear it: the hushed, anxious voices.

He’s too busy smiling goofily, eyes glued to his phone screen as he walks toward the elevator. At least two interns pirouette around him. He half apologizes all while rereading Braylon’s last texts. He’s stuck on:You wish I was “googling” youandHe hardly looks like fake boyfriend material.

Was that flirting?IsBraylon jealous?

The questions churning in his head are interrupted by Auntie Cheryl’s voice coming from around the corner.

“I heard him on the phone. Kenny’s not convinced.”

“But the V-Day gala was a hit.” That’s Auntie Eva. “And you said Kamila’s party was getting tons of coverage.”

“Itis. She killed it.”

“So, what’s the problem?”

“I couldn’t hear the rest of the call. Maybe he wants bigger?”

Eva sucks air through her teeth. “You mean he wants them to do things the way he has.”

Cheryl doesn’t disagree.

Denz stops short, ducking behind an empty cubicle. He strains to hear their conversation over the noise around the offices.

“Denzel won’t burn this place to the ground. That’s the last thing he wants,” Eva insists.

“Well, Kamila’s vision is fresher than Kenny’s.”

“But will she consider going back to—”

Cheryl cuts her off. “No. Kenny’s right. Just because the wedding planning we did in the beginning helpedyoulaunch your styling business—”

“And look where I am now.”

“—doesn’t mean it’s going to change the company’sfuture. We need to keep giving clients that personal experience.”

“What’s your plan, then?”

The low, frustrated exhale Cheryl releases sends a chill through Denz. She always has a plan—or a scheme. It’s where he gets it from. But he can tell she’s struggling, which only heightens his anxiety.

Kami’s not enough.He’snot enough. So, what now?

“I don’t know,” Cheryl finally says. “This is mylife,Eva. My son’s life.”

“It’s Kamila and Denzel’s life too.”

“One of them better step it up,” Cheryl demands. “Put on a show Kenny’s so fucking impressed by, we don’t lose our family legacy to some incompetent, wealthy white man who throws millions into a company just to watch it fold for a tax write-off.”

The elevator dings.

Whatever’s said next is swallowed up by people shuffling off. Casual greetings exchanged. The aunties stepping on. Denz hovers low until the doors close again. He tries to swallow the bile crawling up his throat.

“What’re you doing down there?”

He yelps, then falls over at the sound of Kami’s voice. She stares down at him, hands on her hips.

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