Page 35 of Burn for You (Slow Burn 1)
I grimaced. “Hit that? Are you a rapper now?”
Mama went all practical. “If I were, I’d want to be Jay Z. Married to Beyoncé, can you imagine? That boy has no idea how lucky he is!” She tapped me on the arm with her gossip rag. “And if he doesn’t watch out, Kanye West is gonna get all up in there and steal his woman.”
I blinked at her. “I’d ask if you’ve been drinking, but I’m afraid of the answer.”
“Speaking of drinking,” she said, watching me from under her lashes like she does when she has something scandalous to reveal, “I got a real interesting phone call the other day.”
“Oh?” I said, watching an old man with a walker shuffle by the door. His blue hospital gown was open in the back, exposing his wrinkled, white butt. I looked away, embarrassed for him.
Lord, hospitals were depressing.
“Mmm-hmm,” said Mama. “From Trace.”
; My head snapped around so fast it almost flew clear off my neck. “Trace! You’re joking!”
“I’m serious as a car crash, chère.” She pursed her lips, tilting her head to look more closely at me. “Why didn’t you mention you saw him?”
“Because I was trying to forget, obviously,” I grumbled. “And what business did he have calling you? The nerve!”
“Oh, don’t you worry, I gave him a good piece of my mind.” She paused for a moment, thinking. “Funny, he agreed with everything I said about him. And then he apologized.”
I rolled my eyes. “Oh, Mama, you know better than to listen to that snake oil salesman. You should’ve hung up the second you recognized his voice.”
“I did,” she said, nodding. “Until he called me back and told me that losing you was the biggest mistake he’d ever made.”
“Gag,” I said.
“And that he’d do anything to get you back.”
“Oh, for the love of God.”
“Which was his other point.”
I glared at Mama. “Please don’t tell me you believe his whole ‘I’ve been saved by Jesus’ spiel!”
She looked at me for a long time, not saying a word. Then she lifted a shoulder. “For some people, hitting rock bottom is the only way they can start a new journey toward the top.”
“Rock bottom! He’s a ho, Mama, not an alcoholic! Land’s sake, he slept with my best friend! In my bed!”
That last part might have been a little loud, judging by the way the nurse walking by the open door snorted.
Mama patted my hand. “I know he did, baby, and that was an awful thing to do. All I’m saying is . . . occasionally good people make stupid mistakes.” Her eyes grew misty. “And honestly, lately I’ve been thinking a lot about all the mistakes I’ve made in my life. Sometimes it takes something really bad to put all the good in perspective.”
“Sweet Jesus,” I said, staring at her. “He’s put a spell on you.”
She waved a dismissive hand in the air. “Nobody’s put a spell on me. I’m too thick-headed for it to work.” She sighed, toying with the glasses on a chain around her neck. “But after sixty-four years on this earth, I know when a man’s lying, and I know when a man’s telling the truth. And when Trace said he still loved you and would do anything to get you back, he was telling the truth.”
I shook my head in disbelief. “I can’t believe we’re having this conversation. You saw how devastated I was after we broke up. You remember how much weight I lost and how I cried every day and how I couldn’t get out of bed for weeks, right?”
“I remember,” she said quietly. “But I also know you haven’t even looked at another man since him. Which makes me think all those feelings you had for him might still be there.”
Something awful occurred to me. “Oh, no. Please tell me you didn’t tell him that.”
She pulled a face, like, Oops.
I shot up from my chair and stared down at her. “Mama! You didn’t!”
