Coming 07/14!
**Sneak Peek**
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He's back, Sis!
Amina stood in front of her full-length mirror, smoothing down the hem of her satin wrap dress for the fifth time. Her blown-out hair framed her face just right, her makeup soft but intentional. She looked like someone in control, but her nerves betrayed her, tight shoulders, shallow breaths, fingertips tapping an anxious rhythm on her hip.
Dinner.
Not just with Brandi but also with Milan and Londyn.
She adjusted her neckline again and gave herself a look. “You’re not going to fall apart. You’re that girl, and you will keep it together no matter what feelings arise.”
A quick knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts. It was Brandi, right on time, wearing a huge grin and a pair of gold hoops that bounced as she stepped inside.
“Okay, best friend!” Brandi said, giving Amina a once-over. “You look expensive.”
Amina smirked. “I almost lost myself for a moment. Had to remind myself and whoever may have forgotten that I’m that girl.”
Brandi linked arms with her. “Good. Because tonight is about just that, setting reminders!”
“You didn’t have to pick me up.”
“How else are we going to spill tea after?”
“You have a great point, friend.”
They rode in a comfortable silence most of the way to Brandi’s house, the kind of silence that didn’t require filling, but when they turned into her driveway, Amina's heartbeat picked up pace.
She saw them before she stepped inside.
Through the large front window, she caught a glimpse of Milan in the backyard, standing with Shar and Ryan near the patio, a drink in his hand as he listened to Londyn animatedly point to the sky. Her curls bounced with every excited gesture. Milan crouched to her level, giving her his full attention. His smile was soft, unscripted, and painfully familiar.
Amina froze in place, watching from just beyond the door.
The years between them melted in that single moment. Her chest rose and fell with tight, calculated breaths as she watched him, this version of him she hadn’t been ready to meet. The father. The man. The one who looked like everything he’d promised to become.
Brandi touched her shoulder gently. “You got this.”
“I need a second,” Amina whispered.
Brandi nodded and stepped inside, calling out something about setting the table.
Amina stayed where she was until Milan turned.
Their eyes met through the glass.
It was a collision.
Time didn't slow; it stopped. His posture shifted. His smile faltered but didn’t vanish. He stood slowly, his gaze locked on hers. There was no hiding, not anymore. There was no timeline long enough to erase the recognition in his face.
He said something to Shar and Brandi, then grabbed Londyn by the hand. And just like that, the door opened.
Amina blinked, heart hammering, every step he took toward her echoing with memories she’d both clung to and tried to bury.
“Hey,” he said.
She tried to speak but found herself staring, the lump in her throat growing.
Londyn looked at her, then back at Milan. “Daddy, it’s the lady from your picture.”
Amina’s eyes widened. “Picture?”
Milan chuckled softly, looking slightly embarrassed. “She saw a painting I started. I didn’t think she’d connect the dots.”
Londyn leaned toward Amina with curiosity. “You look like her. Daddy said it was someone important.”
Amina’s gaze flicked to Milan, who said, without flinching, “Because she is. I want you to meet Amina.”
Londyn reached her arms out. “Hi, Amina. I like your dress. Can I sit by you at dinner?”
Amina nodded, swallowing her tears. “Thank you, and I’d like that.”
Dinner was set in the dining room, and Brandi had gone all out. Candles flickered between platters of cabbage, roasted vegetables, oxtails, and warm cornbread. It looked like comfort, but it felt a bit like suffocation.
Amina sat beside Londyn, who immediately snuggled close. Milan was across from her, quiet but watchful.
Londyn turned to her. “Do you like stories?”
“I love stories.”
“I’m writing one. It’s about a girl who turns invisible, but only when she’s sad. She’s trying to figure out how to stay visible.”
Amina blinked, momentarily floored by the metaphor. “That’s beautiful.”
“She’s still learning,” Londyn said, then went back to her corn bread.
Milan cleared his throat. “She writes everything. It’s how she processes stuff. She’s a lot like me with painting, of course.”
Amina nodded. “And not so different from me, either with journaling.”
Their eyes met again, longer this time. He mouthed something across the table: Ina.
She felt her breath catch.
The soundless syllable wrapped around her like a memory, like home. No one else had ever called her that.
Ever the hostess and referee, Brandi brought up a game of “Two Truths and a Lie,” dragging Londyn and Ryan into silly tales about lost shoes, glitter accidents, and snack hoarding. Laughter softened the edges of the evening.
But eventually, the table quieted. After settling the girls down to color, Brandi and Shar excused themselves to make nightcaps.
And just like that, it was just them.
Milan leaned back, exhaling. “Thank you for coming.”
Amina sipped her wine. “I wasn’t sure I would.”
“I wouldn’t have blamed you.”
Silence stretched for a beat.
“She’s amazing,” Amina said finally. “Smart and creative. You’ve done something right.”
“I’m still learning. Every day. Most of it’s just trial and love.”
Amina smiled, a little wistfully. “That’s parenting, from what I hear.”
He nodded, then looked at her. “How’ve you been? Really.”
Amina traced the rim of her glass. “Growing. Untangling. Trying to figure out what parts of me were real and which were stitched together just to keep moving.”
“I know that feeling,” he said, voice low. “Having to rebuild and figure everything out.”
“Seems like you’re doing okay.”
He looked down at his hands. “Some days, yeah. Other days, I still carry you in my quiet moments. You were a huge part of my becoming.”
The honesty took her by surprise. She hadn’t anticipated a confession or clarity. Not now.
“I don’t know what I expected tonight,” she said softly. “But I didn’t think it would feel like this.”
He looked up. “What does it feel like?”
She hesitated. “Just different. No hate.”
He nodded slowly. “I could never hate you, Ina. I thought you hated me.”
“I don’t.”
Londyn came skipping back into the room, waving a drawing. “I made this for you, Auntie Amina!”
It was a picture of a lion with a crown standing beside a sunflower. At the top, her name was written in pink crayon, with an “A.”
Amina swallowed the lump in her throat. “Thank you, baby. This is going on my fridge.”
Londyn beamed, then climbed into Milan’s lap, whispering something in his ear before yawning.
“It’s bedtime,” he said, standing. “Let me tuck her in real quick.”
Amina nodded, her heart tugging in too many directions at once.
Brandi came back in with another glass of wine. “So?”
“It’s good,” Amina replied. “He doesn't hate me. So there's that.”
Brandi touched her hand. “I told you that.”
Minutes later, Milan returned alone, quieter now. The weight of the night pressed into his shoulders.
“She’s out cold,” he said. “Long day.”
Amina stood. “She’s something special.”
“She is.”
He stepped closer, not invading, but enough to make the space between them feel alive.
“If you ever want to talk... really talk... I’m around.”
She nodded. “Same.”
They shared a look, one rich with history but no longer burdened by it.
He paused. “She likes you. A lot.”
“I like her, too. She’s easy to like.”
He smiled softly. “So were you.”
Amina watched him as he turned and made his way toward the guest room hallway.
He doesn't hate me, she thought.
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Copyright © 2019
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Any unauthorized reprint or use of the material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage without express permission by the author.
This is an original work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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