Page 5 of The Phyre that Burns
“Friend, I know you think you’re over him, but?—”
“I’m over him, Devyn. Just because I have no interest in falling in love again doesn’t mean I’m still in love with Phyre. It’s been thirteen years. I’m good.”
Again, she looked at me with concern and added a hint of skepticism, but she changed the subject.
“Six months is a long time. Will you be able to come home?”
“I can take days off, and there are always weekends.”
“Fuck that. I’m coming to see you. I’ll give you a month to get settled, and I’m there.”
“I’d love for you to come and visit, and bring Bubba too.”
“Umm, that’s a negative. He can stay here with his daddy.”
“Girl, you know you ain’t leaving your baby.”
“Watch me. I need a break, and Cali will be perfect. I’m excited for you, but I’ll miss you.”
“It’ll fly by.”
“Are you sure you don’t still have feelings for Phyre?”
I sighed. “I’m as sure as I can be, not having seen him in so long.”
“If you see him?—”
“Let’s not go there, sis. I can handle whatever happens concerning him.”
“I’ll trust your word,” she said, her voice filled with concern.
“Anyway . . . what’s been going on besides being a mom and wife?”
“I had a pregnancy scare.” I gasped. “When the test was negative, Tariq refused to believe it. Then my cycle came, and he’s been so sad.”
“Aww. Give that man another baby.”
She shrugged. “Don’t talk to me. Talk to Mother Nature. I’m not on birth control, and you know we gets it in around here. It’ll happen when it’s supposed to happen.”
“You’re not worried?”
“Not at all. Did you eat yet?”
“No. I planned to stop by my parents’ house before going home, and I know my mama cooked.”
“Mama Bea is always in the kitchen. I have a pot roast in the oven if you wanna take some for tomorrow.”
“Did you make cornbread and mashed potatoes?”
“Of course.”
“Nah, I’m eating now. I’ll take whatever my mama cooked home for tomorrow.”
We went to the kitchen, and I placed Bubba in his high chair before washing my hands. Devyn made a plate for me and a bowl of mashed potatoes for Bubba, and we sat at the table. I knew she was waiting to eat with her husband, so I didn’t ask why she didn’t make herself a plate. We continued catching up while Bubba and I ate, and not long after I finished, I left.
When I arrived at my parents’ house about thirty minutes later, I parked in front of the house, behind my brother’s truck. I wasn’t surprised he was there because it was dinner time, and he ate at our parents’ house more often than not. I used my key to let myself in and followed the voices of my family to the kitchen.
“Hey, Ma. Hey, Daddy. Wassup, ugmo?” I kissed my parents’ cheeks, as they returned the greeting, and shoved my brother in the back of the head before joining them at the kitchen table.
