Lover's Island, page 25
“You want to run by the hotel and change before we go out?” Khiri asked, gripping the steering wheel with one hand, as he glanced at Nyimah.
“Please. I love Miami, but it’s hot as fuck out here. I’ve been sweating since we left the gun range,” Nyimah replied, laughing.
Khiri snickered and pointed to the sun. “This Florida heat takes some getting used to.”
Nyimah adjusted her Prada frames as the wind whipped through the fresh silk press she had done herself. She closed her eyes and felt the heat against her skin. She loved the quality of the air in Miami. Maybe it was the ocean breeze, but it tasted pure. Humid but pure.
Khiri’s phone rang, and he sighed before answering the call. He shook his head while listening to whoever was on the other end. “Since when?” he asked with an amused look on his face. “Ma, I’m on vacation. All right. All right. I’ll be there. Love you too.” Khiri brought his free hand down his face as he pulled into the valet parking area at their hotel. “You mind going with me to this family event? My moms will never let me hear the end of it if I don’t show my face.”
Nyimah smiled and nodded reluctantly. “You want me to meet your family?”
Khiri read the skeptical look on Nyimah’s face and laughed. “They’re not that bad. I promise,” he said before he got out of the car. He stopped at the valet concierge before reaching to open the door for Nyimah. Khiri pulled the door open and held his hand out for her.
“Thank you,” Nyimah replied with rosy red cheeks. Khiri’s chivalrous nature had attracted her from the beginning. She accepted nothing less than princess treatment. Asun had set that bar for her. Jabari, despite his infidelity, had maintained that. Cree had elevated it. Khiri seemed to understand the assignment. “I’ll go with you.”
They walked through the lobby and stepped onto the elevator. “Thank you. A beautiful woman like you will help take the heat off me. My mom and auntie gon’ be mad I ain’t visited in a few months,” Khiri explained.
Nyimah placed her hand on her chest and feigned flattery. This would be her first time meeting a man’s family in her twenty-eight years of life. Asun, hadn’t had any family for her to meet besides Sunni. She hadn’t cared enough to meet Jabari’s family, and had met his mother only once. “Throwing me to the wolves, huh?” she joked.
“Only because I know you’ll come out swinging. You got that fight in you, which is why I know they’ll love you.” The elevator doors opened to the penthouse suite. Khiri entered the access code, pushed the door open, and stepped aside so Nyimah could enter.
Nyimah laughed as she removed the sheer bathing suit cover-up she wore and placed it on the couch. “We’ll see. What should I wear?”
Khiri turned and rubbed his goatee. “A dress or something,” he replied.
Nyimah nodded and headed toward her room in the suite. “I won’t be long,” she called over her shoulder before closing the door behind her.
* * *
Nyimah studied her appearance in the mirror. After giving birth to Ceraya, she had become self-conscious regarding the smallest things about her body. She overanalyzed even the smallest blemishes. It had taken her a year even to feel confident enough to wear revealing clothing. She had gained weight and had had to replace most of her wardrobe. Without a village to help raise Ceraya, postpartum depression had hit her hard. She had missed Cree the most after having Ceraya, but looking at her daughter every day had got her through the toughest times.
The red dress hugged her body like a glove. A slit in the dress rose up her right thigh. The back of the dress dipped down to the arch in Nyimah’s back. Her gold YSL heels put her toned calves on display. She styled her hair into a sleek half-up, half-down look. Subtle baby hairs rested on her forehead. She settled for a natural face beat of makeup. On her wrist was the diamond tennis bracelet Cree had bought her. She felt a little closer to him when she wore it. Inhaling deeply, Nyimah looked herself over once more before grabbing her Chanel clutch and her phone.
When she emerged from the bedroom, she saw Khiri sitting on the love seat, scrolling down his phone. He wore a pair of khaki slacks and an olive Versace dress shirt.
“How do I look?” she asked with her arms outstretched.
Khiri looked up from his phone and cleared his throat. “Damn.”
The dress clung to Nyimah’s thick frame as if it were designed especially for her. He knew a body like hers could only be homegrown, not manufactured, though he wasn’t against surgically enhanced bodies. However, that was all he saw every time he visited Miami. It made him appreciate Nyimah’s appearance even more. He noticed she had styled her hair differently. It gave him a view of every one of her beautiful facial features, down to the small mole on her left cheek. He wondered why a breathtaking spectacle like Nyimah needed his reassurance.
“You look so fucking good. Do you see yourself?” Khiri exclaimed as he stood up and guided Nyimah to the mirror hanging in the living room. “You the shit. Got a nigga sweating and shit.” He stood behind Nyimah as they both glanced at her reflection in the mirror.
Nyimah blushed and turned to face Khiri. “Thank you. You don’t look half bad yourself,” she complimented him. The shirt looked like it was tailor made, and the cuff links on his wrists gleamed. His locks were freshly twisted, courtesy of her, into an updo, and his hairline was sharp. “You just so happened to have this outfit packed?” she asked as she tugged lightly on his jacket lapel.
Khiri laughed. There wasn’t much he could get past Nyimah, and he loved that about her. Her wittiness kept a smile on his face, and her thoroughness kept him on his toes. “I may or may not have had something romantic planned for you. Nigga gotta look the part,” he said.
“Well,” Nyimah said as she adjusted his collar, “you make the part look good.” She batted her eyelashes and looked up to meet Khiri’s gaze. A coy smile spread across her face, and Nyimah broke the intense gaze.
Tucking his forefinger under her chin, Khiri lifted Nyimah’s face until their eyes met. He leaned down and planted a soft kiss on her lips before pulling away. He waited a second to see if Nyimah had any reservations. Instead, she wrapped her arms around his neck and her lips invited him back. Their tongues danced together as Khiri massaged Nyimah’s back gently.
The ringing of his phone interrupted them. He sucked his teeth, pecked her lips once more before he reached for his phone and took the call. A woman could be heard shouting on the line. “Ma, I’m on the way! I’m not gon’ miss it. See you soon. Love you,” he said, rushing his mother off the call. He turned his sights back on Nyimah. “You ready?”
Nyimah pursed her lips and nodded, then followed Khiri out of the hotel suite. The kiss had left her breathless and speechless. It felt good feeling a man’s touch. At some point, she had realized she had to move on from Cree. Her daughter was almost one now, and Nyimah had faced the fact that she might never see Cree again. Their love story would be a fairy tale she’d tell her daughter at night. Nyimah hoped that Cree was well, wherever he was.
* * *
“Wow. This is nice,” Nyimah said. She held Khiri’s hand as he carefully helped her up the steps in her heels. They walked through a huge balloon arc full of white, pink, and gold balloons that led to a ballroom. A huge crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling. Round glass tables had been spread across the space, and the center had been open for an aisle. Six chairs with mauve padding and gold accents circled each table. It felt like all eyes were on them as they walked down the short white carpet, obviously late for the affair. There was a live band playing at the front of the room, and waitresses were walking from table to table, offering hors d’oeuvres.
Khiri found two empty seats at a table in the middle of the room. He slid a chair out for Nyimah and waited for her to sit before taking a seat of his own. “Don’t mind the stares. I don’t usually bring women around my family, especially someone as beautiful as you,” he whispered to her.
“Well, that makes me feel better,” Nyimah replied sarcastically. She prayed they would leave shortly after this event was over to avoid being questioned by his family. They’d ask questions that she had no answers for. If she was dating Khiri, for instance. Or how they met. That unlocked the door to a complicated past. A past she did not want to talk about. The reason she liked being around Khiri was that he didn’t remind her of all she’d lost. “Looks like we’re late.”
“Perfect timing,” he replied, drawing a quiet chuckle from Nyimah. “You hungry?” He motioned to the buffet filled with various savory dishes and desserts at the back of the room.
She shook her head no. “I could use a drink, though.”
“I got you. I’ll be right back.” Khiri left the table.
Nyimah checked the notifications on her phone and sent Aida a quick text asking how they were doing. A waitress came by and filled her glass with water before moving to clear all the finished plates on surrounding tables. She sipped her water and watched a brown-skinned woman with short hair take the stage. The black dress she wore hugged her curves, and the red lipstick brought out her striking features. She was beautiful. Nyimah knew she had to be the host.
The woman palmed the mic gracefully before tapping it with French tip nails. “Is this working?” Her voice boomed throughout the room, then echoed, and she jumped in response, evoking laughter from everyone, including Nyimah. “I guess so,” she said, much quieter this time. “I just want to say a few words before the night is over. Foremost, thank you to all our amazing family and friends who came to support us tonight. My fiancé and I greatly appreciate you.”
She paused and held her left hand out for the crowd to see the rock on her ring finger. “Y’all are going to get tired of hearing me say, ‘My fiancé, my fiancé,’ but I don’t care!” She laughed, and the crowd clapped along. “My fiancé loved me back to health, and I’m forever indebted to him. A lot of you know what I battled over the past year and a half. Our family faced so many obstacles, but love held us together. Love reunited us. I don’t know where I’d be without him.”
Nyimah found herself clapping too. She admired the passion with which the woman spoke about her soon-to-be husband. She literally felt the love radiating off her from the way her eyes lit up when she talked about him. From the looks of the diamond on her finger, her man loved her too. Nyimah rooted for that kind of love because she had had it before. Twice. Though it had slipped through her fingers, she was forever grateful to have experienced true love.
“So, I’m going to let him say a few words. And y’all do know he can be a man of very few words, so don’t judge him,” the woman onstage stated, giggling.
Khiri returned with a glass of champagne and two shots of tequila. “I didn’t know what to get you, so I got both,” he said as he sat down.
She turned to the drinks and opted for the flute filled with bubbly. “I’ll save the shots for later.” Nyimah tipped the flute toward her lips and took a gulp of the champagne. “You didn’t tell me this was an engagement party,” she whispered and focused her attention back on the stage. The woman kissed her fiancé, blocking the view of him as he stepped on the stage. Just then a text dinged on her phone, and Nyimah glanced down to see a picture of Ceraya that Aida had sent. She was holding a banana between her chubby fingers and was grinning, exposing two bottom teeth. Nyimah replied with “heart eyes” emojis.
“Thank you to everyone for coming out tonight.”
Nyimah’s ears perked up at the velvety baritone that had just spoken into the microphone. Her heart raced, thumping against her rib cage, as she peered toward the stage, squinting, hoping her eyes were deceiving her. She blinked rapidly and rubbed her eyes with her fists. A hurricane of emotions exploded inside her as she realized to whom the voice belonged. Cree, she thought as her chest became tight with anxiety.
“Oh my God.” Nyimah place her hand on her chest.
“What is it?” Khiri asked.
Nyimah ignored Khiri’s question as she zoned in on Cree. He looked even better than she remembered. He didn’t look like her loss had affected him at all. She covered her mouth with a shaky palm as reality sank in. The words she had just cheered were about Cree. Her muscles stiffened as she examined the woman standing behind Cree and gazing at him affectionately. This nigga is engaged. The realization hit Nyimah like a sack of bricks.
While she had fought depression as she raised her daughter alone, Cree had been off rebuilding his family. He hadn’t given a second thought to the dreams he had sold her. He didn’t even look for me, she thought. Nyimah didn’t know another way to rationalize what she was witnessing. Cree stood on the stage, expressing his love for another woman, and she couldn’t take it. She felt low, like chewing gum on the bottom of someone’s shoe. Even sitting in her seat felt like a violation. Her skin tingled uncomfortably, and her eyes burned with shame.
Nyimah exhaled sharply and pushed the chair hard behind her as she stood. It clattered to the floor, and all eyes seemed to fall on her. She didn’t even feel the tears coming down her face until her vision blurred, and she swiped them away. She searched for an exit, found none, then bumped into a waitress before rushing into the nearest bathroom.
“Ma’am, that’s for staff only!” a male chef shouted behind her.
“I’ll only be a minute!” Nyimah snapped and locked the door behind her. She gripped the edge of the porcelain sink and blew out a shaky breath. After examining herself in the mirror, Nyimah dropped her head and sobbed silently. Was the universe trying to punish her? She wondered what the odds were of her and Khiri ending up at Cree’s engagement party, or of Khiri even being related to either of them.
The woman onstage had to be the mother of Cree’s daughter. Nyimah questioned everything Cree had told her. Perhaps he had never left the mother of his child. Perhaps Nyimah had just been a fling for him. Perhaps he had never had plans to be with her at all. She called everything into question. Maybe Jabari was right all along, she thought. Nyimah dialed Aida’s number, chest heaving, as she paced the small bathroom.
“Girl, why you calling us? We are good!” Aida exclaimed into the phone before Nyimah got a word out.
Nyimah sniffled on the line and choked on her sobs. “He’s here, Aida,” she managed to say.
“Who’s there?”
“Cree!” she wailed. “He’s getting engaged. They’re getting married, Aida. I have to get out of here!” Nyimah fanned herself with her free hand.
“What?” Aida squealed, her voice climbing an octave. “Hold on! How did you get to Cree?”
“Khiri asked me to come to a family event with him and turns out it’s Cree’s engagement party!” Nyimah exclaimed and shook her head in her hand. Khiri possibly being related to Cree put the icing on the cake. Her luck couldn’t be any worse.
“Nyimah, no! You two didn’t . . . ?”
“No,” Nyimah answered quickly. “We kissed, though. But, bitch, that’s not what I called to talk about! This nigga is marrying the same woman he said he wasn’t with!” She threw her head back and groaned. Two knocks came against the door, and Nyimah grimaced. “I have to go. I’ll call you back.” She ended the call, then closed her eyes before wrapping her hand around the door handle and opening the door.
* * *
“Thank you to everyone for coming tonight,” Cree said into the microphone, squinting his eyes against the bright glare of the spotlights. Nearly a hundred pair of eyes stared back at him. He had never intended to have such a big engagement party. Nova had got excited when sending out invitations, and here they were. “Many of you stood by our family when tragedy struck us not once but twice. I’ll never forget that.” The crowd gave a round of applause, and Cree paused. “The last year has taught me that we gotta cherish what we have while it’s here. I want to say—”
His words were interrupted by a woman getting up from her seat and knocking her chair before she scrambled out of the ballroom. All eyes briefly turned to her.
Creed did a double take and held his hand over his eyebrows. He would recognize that walk from anywhere. The woman in the red dress looked eerily familiar. Can’t be, he thought. A lump formed in his throat, and he swallowed hard before adjusting his tie. Suddenly it had become too tight. Nova nudged him, smiling tightly, silently urging him to continue. He cleared his throat and rolled his neck before leaning into the mic. “I, I, uh . . . ,” he stammered. He tried to shake the feeling in his gut that was telling him to follow the woman. “Thank you all. Excuse me.” Cree handed the mic to Nova before rushing off the stage.
“Well, I told you. Not a man of many words. Thank you, everyone, and feel free to help yourself to food and drinks. Enjoy the rest of the night,” Cree heard Nova say into the microphone as he exited the ballroom and entered the staff area.
“Did a woman come in here?” he asked one of the employees.
The chef, obviously annoyed, pointed to the bathroom. Cree squared his shoulders before knocking twice. He held his breath as the door slowly crept open and he came face-to-face with Nyimah. Tears soaked her face, and Cree’s shoulders dropped when she lifted forlorn eyes to his. He scanned her, loving the way she had styled her hair. Somehow it made her look even more youthful. The dress she wore appeared as if it had been painted on her body, and it revealed the extra pounds, which had gone to all the right places. His gaze fell on the tennis bracelet on her wrist. He recognized it instantly.
She still wears it.
“Nyimah,” he called out to her and reached out to grab her hand.
“Save it.” Nyimah brushed past him. She didn’t want to hear anything he had to say. After pushing through the double doors, Nyimah stood in the lobby and began pacing.
Cree followed behind her. “What are you doing here?” he asked when he reached her side.
Nyimah’s mouth dropped open, and she cut her eyes at him before letting out a humorless chuckle. “That’s the first thing you have to ask me after all this time?” she scoffed and waved her hand in front of her.
