Page 90 of Digging Up Love
“So she met your family. That’s the problem? Mama Isabel scared her off? Can’t say I’m surprised.” Tre opened his eyes wide, lips pulled back in horror.
“Is nothing sacred? That’s mymotheryou’re talking about.” Quentin scowled at him. “But no, things went really well. And we saw each other the next day. I hung out with her and her sister.” Tre opened his mouth, but Quentin kept going to stave off his friend’s dirty mind. “We had a great time, went to North Ave Beach ...”
“Dr.Harris chilling on the beach with two ladies?” Tre lifted up his glass, shaking both shoulders and circling his hips on the cushion. “Didn’t think you had it in you, Q.”
Quentin stood up and strode to the kitchen. Tre called after him, “Sorry. I’m done, I swear.”
After snatching out another beer, he came back in, taking a seat at the far side of the couch this time. Tre flipped back toSportsCenter. Eyes on the TV, he asked, “So, pray tell, between the kissing and the bikinis and meeting the family, what exactly is the issue?”
He gulped down a mouthful of skunky beer. “I may have given her a lecture on how to live her life.”
“Shocking.”
“Seriously, Tre, I don’t need this.”
“Q, I’m just waiting to hear what the problem is. If she’s known you since March, you’ve probably lectured her at least a dozen times by now.”
Chewing the inside of his cheek, Quentin crossed his arms, the cold beer bottle resting against his elbow.
“You’re really telling me this is the first time you’ve tried to point out the error of her ways?” Behind black wire frames, Tre aimed a skeptical look his way.
Quentin narrowed his eyes. Tre kept his face bland. Finally he conceded, “There may have been one or two other times.”
“Ha. Knew it!” A thump sounded from where Tre smacked the arm of the chair.
“I can’t help it, man.” He set the bottle on his leg and pointed to the TV for Tre to switch back to the baseball game. “I just can’t stand for her to make the same mistakes.”
“As who?”
“As Mercedes.”
Tre sat forward, hand on his knee. “Hold up, how so?”
“She’s planning to move here, which should be great news. She wants to open up a bakery, and she can do it too. Hasbeendoing it, for years. Her cookies are phenomenal, and cool looking too. That’s going to be her shop—only cookies.” At Tre’s rapid blinks, he wrapped up the cookie endorsement.
“But the thing is, she works for her grandpa and lives with her grandparents too. And she hasn’t told them.”
“Maybe she’s waiting for the right time?” The Cubs scored another run, and Tre swore.
“Like when she’s already gone, over a text?” The bitter tinge to his words tasted rotten in his mouth, but he couldn’t keep the image of the life-altering text out of his mind:You’ll be out the tux money, but my dad will handle the rest. Wish you all the best.
Wish you all the best.Right. Like a tuxedo deposit was the only collateral damage of a broken engagement.
“Ah.” Tre ran his fingers over his goatee like a wise wizard. “Dang, Q.”
Vindicated, Quentin washed another swallow of beer down his throat. “You see the problem?”
“I seeaproblem, yeah.”
He swallowed a burp, stomach gurgling. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Tre slung back the last of his wine. “It means, stay for dinner. Radhika’s bringing Lou Malnati’s.”
“You’d better eat more than that, Q. You know this one won’t touch leftovers.” Radhika pointed her fork toward Tre, her wavy black hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun. A box of deep-dish sausage pizza sat in the middle of the circular turned-wood table, three thick slices missing.
Quentin smiled and put a hand on his overfull belly. He hadn’t finished off theentirepackage of oatmeal cream pies during his sob-fest with Tre, but he’d come pretty close. “I’ll do my best.”
She nodded and went back to cutting up her slice. “So when do you head back down to ... where is it again?”
