Page 95 of Lily In The Valley
Eventually, everyone spilled out onto the patio. The bartender cut the music. Last call. Someone lit a blunt. Nobody said anything as we passed it around. We sat in mismatched chairs, passing around drinks and stories like we hadn’t all been through some kind of heartbreak this year. The air buzzed with what-ifs. Kelly laughed at something Wesley said. I watched her from across the group, knees curled beneath her, head tilted back, laughing.
That was when I heard another voice cracking above it.
“Oh my God. Khalil, why didn’t you tell me y’all were out here?”
Tasha. She stood at the patio entrance with her arms folded, one of her over-dressed friends standing just behind her. She had her practiced smile pasted to her face. Her eyes were overly wide, bouncing over the patio, narrowing slightly when they met Kelly, until they landed back on me.
I stood, walking over to where she and her friend stood.
“Say, can we have a second?” Tasha’s friend looked at her before walking off. “Tasha, we said we were cooling it. Giving each other space, remember?”
“I gave you space. I didn’t know you’d be here,” she said, sliding her arms around my waist, tugging tight. “It’s not my fault we just happened to be in the same neighborhood.”
I stared back at her blankly. “Tasha, quit playing games. I told you I was coming here.”
“Well, maybe I forgot.” She smiled again, arching her neck for a kiss. In the corner of my eye, I saw Kelly shift in her seat, smoothing her expression as she listened to whatever story Lynnwas telling her. Her smile was tight as her eyes flickered under the string lights of the patio.
“Since I’m here, why don’t you introduce me to everyone.”
“Tasha,” I said, my voice low. “This ain’t the time.”
She stepped back like I slapped her. “Oh? Because she’s here? Y’all just passing blunts around like shit sweet.” She laughed, sharp and a little unhinged. “My sister told me about niggas like you.”
Kelly stood, cool and easy. “You good?”
“We’re fine,” Tasha replied, her eyes never leaving me.
“Chill, Tasha.”
Silence held for a beat before Kelly dropped back to her seat and took the blunt from Maverick like nothing happened. She inhaled deeply, then let the smoke curl around her mouth as she exhaled. She passed it off to Lynn, who laughed at Kelly’s smirk and rolling of her eyes.
“So this is what you mean by keeping it ‘casual.’ Sleep over at my place whenever you want, but when I want time with you, it’s always a no.”
“Tasha, it’s late. Don’t you have to get up early anyway?”
Tasha looked past my shoulders again, finding her target. “When she plays your ass again, you know where to find me.” She walked off, meeting up with her friend near the parking lot. I could tell from her animated gestures, she was giving an exaggerated recap. I stared down at the spot she had stood, thinking about how loud the wrong person could be when you craved quiet.
Chapter 29
Kelly
Bacon salty,smoky bacon pulled me from my sleep. Not the kind on a greasy burger, but the homemade kind. The kind that made cast iron sizzle, fatty edges curling under the heat. A crispiness that came from a patience only fathers seemed to have when it came to frying things just right. I blinked against the sunlight cutting through the blinds in my childhood bedroom.
I’d been enjoying the time spent with my friends, the chances I’d been able to see Khalil, the morning walks with Karter, and nighttime dinners with just my father and me. There was no rush, no impending deadline pulling me from the present. I felt that way this morning too, were it not for my session with Ms. Reece. She’d said the first few weeks she wanted to take it easy, let me get comfortable. But today, we were getting to the root.
As I walked downstairs, my father hummed along to some old school R&B. Maze,Golden Time of Day. Mama would play that on Saturdays when she woke us both at the crack of dawn to clean up. When I walked into the kitchen, he looked up and smiled, wide and full of effort.
“Hey, Kelly-girl,” my dad cheered from the kitchen. “Coffee or orange juice?”
“Coffee.”
He poured it for me, adding just the right amount of oat milk and hazelnut syrup. I sat at the kitchen island while he assembled our plates. Bacon, scrambled eggs, toast buttered all the way to the edges. The two of us eating breakfast together was so normal. Karter ate from his dog bowl on the ground, laps of water filling the air.
“I appreciate this more than you know,” I said, stuffing my mouth with bacon and eggs.
“You don’t have to thank me for that.”
“It’s still nice to say.”
