Never Too Soon E-Book

Tamika Christy

• Herausgeber: BQB Publishing
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2019

Beschreibung

Book 2 in the Anaya's World series.

Things are looking up for Anaya Goode after the deaths of her brother and mother. She is the youngest (and highest paid) executive in Alameda County. She is in an adoring relationship with the love of her life, her natural twists are on point, and she runs a six-minute mile. What else matters?

When Anaya is tasked with leading negotiations for the most significant development agreement in County history, her world unravels. If the antics of inept officials and her micromanaging boss aren't enough to drive Anaya mad, she discovers that her ex-boyfriend Jeff is commissioned as a consultant on the development agreement. Anaya hasn't had contact with Jeff since their messy break-up six years ago.

As negotiations for the development agreement intensify, an internal scandal threatens Anaya's reputation---and her job. Amid bureaucratic indecision and public outrage, Anaya leans on Jeff for support, and unresolved feelings resurface.

As Anaya questions her steady relationship, her extended family's perception of her as Goode matriarch puts her in the middle of every aunt's and cousin's problem. She is tired of serving as supplemental income to her scripture-quoting, ever-pregnant sister, and would love to burn the imaginary pedestal her family has perched her on. Can she see her work and family commitments through and still maintain her love life---and more importantly, her sense of self?

Ripe with witty dialogue and relatable characters, "Never Too Soon" offers a look into complicated relationships and haunting pasts, and shows the importance of the familial ties that bind.

Leseprobe

Never Too Soon

Book Two in the Anaya’s World Series

© 2019 Tamika Christy. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, digital, photocopying, or recording, except for the inclusion in a review, without permission in writing from the publisher.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Published in the United States by BQB Publishing

(an Imprint of Boutique of Quality Books Publishing Company)

www.bqbpublishing.com

Printed in the United States of America

978-1-945448-43-0 (p)

978-1-945448-44-7 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2019940435

Book design by Robin Krauss, www.lindendesign.biz

Cover design by Rebecca Lown, www.rebeccalowndesign.com

First editor: Olivia Swenson

Second editor: Pearlie Tan

Contents

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN

SEVENTEEN

EIGHTEEN

NINETEEN

TWENTY

TWENTY ONE

TWENTY TWO

TWENTY THREE

TWENTY FOUR

TWENTY FIVE

TWENTY SIX

TWENTY SEVEN

TWENTY EIGHT

TWENTY NINE

THIRTY

THIRTY ONE

THIRTY TWO

THIRTY THREE

EPILOGUE

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

ONE

There were no conventional seasons in the East Bay. Sweaters in June and flip-flops in October were standard. Some argued that the weather was quirky even before the effects of global warming had taken hold. Others claimed the weather had only gone wacky in recent years. Either way, the natives were accustomed to layering and keeping umbrellas and shorts on hand all year round. The Bay boasted mild but inconsistent temperatures, Indian summers, and local meteorologists who could never get the forecast quite right.

Despite the unpredictable weather, the six-figure median income, and faltering public education system, the Bay was the place to live. It was home to many start-up and global tech companies, bustling with development, a biker’s paradise, and pet friendly—something about it seemed to appeal to everyone. And though rain or fog could always swoop in unannounced, the mild climate made for perfect running weather.

Lake Merritt was Anaya Goode’s favorite place to run. Mornings were ripe with domestic engineers toting lattes and toddlers, singles trying to become un-single, and plenty of workout groups. Healthy living was fundamental in the Bay Area. From farmer’s markets and vegan soul food restaurants to Trap Yoga and Booty Ballet, one had to try hard not to live a health-conscious lifestyle in the Bay.

“Finish those sit-ups!” a burly trainer urged as Anaya passed a boot camp near the lake’s cascade stairs one crisp July morning. “You wanna be sexy this summer? Wanna wear tank tops and tight dresses?”

Only two participants were actually doing the prescribed situps. Another drank water from a bottle, while the rest stared off into space. From the looks on their faces, it was too early in the morning to be thinking about the rhetoric of taut triceps. Most of them probably just wanted a cup of coffee.

Anaya was an avid runner. In the last five years, she had completed four full marathons, a dozen half marathons, ran a six-minute mile, and had never had a running-related injury. When Anaya laced up her Asics, she felt like Jackie Joyner-Kersee. Running sustained Anaya’s sanity when Aunt Deb tried to convert her to Scientology, rendered her sublime patience when Uncle Riley asked her to help him increase his credit score, and permitted her to enjoy the occasional guilt-free slice of key lime pie.

In addition to running, Anaya participated in fad lifestyle challenges that her friends never wanted to do. Last month, her goal was to drink a gallon of water a day. The month before, she had completed Whole 30 for the third time, and next week she planned to start intermittent fasting for two weeks. Wearing a perfect size two with enviable abs and thighs like a cyclist, Anaya didn’t need to think twice about her weight. But she did.

As she neared the predetermined “finish” bench, Anaya lengthened her stride, her breath coming faster and arms pumping harder. After sprinting past the bench, she slowed and jogged back to it, reveling in the cool morning air. She looked down the path with sweet patience.

“Look at you,” Anaya called out a few minutes later as her companion finally reached the finish bench and immediately rested his hands on his knees to catch his breath. She put a foot up on the bench to stretch and looked over at him. He glanced up, caught her admiring gaze, and winked with those long lashes. She blushed.

“No,” Carl said, still panting. He stood up and wiped his face with his tank top. “Don’t look at me. I’ll look at you.” He reciprocated her appraising look.

She pouted playfully. “So tell me. How do you feel? Was that better than our last run?”

She knew that five miles was four-and-a-half too many for Carl. She concealed her smile and remembered how Carl had replied the first time she mentioned she was a runner: “Running is at the bottom of my list of faves, along with beets and talking to my mom after she drinks a pint of gin. But if it means spending time with you, I’m in.”

“It was a good run, babe.” He was lying but he got an A for effort.

“Well, thanks for coming.”

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” he said in a soothing voice. She still blushed when he complimented her. Even after five years together, his adulation and flattery never got old, and every day, she found herself falling more in love with him.

She ran her hand over the loose bun that contained her dark brown curls and felt small ringlets sticking to her damp forehead. She covered her face. “Stop it. I’m a hot, sweaty mess.”

“You’re the sexiest hot mess I’ve ever seen.” He gently pulled her hands from her face.

She could tell from his expression that he didn’t think she was anything less than perfect. Carl was a wonderful boyfriend but had become so much more to her than that. He was one of her closest friends, and she trusted him with her heart. He listened patiently, he consoled when she was stressed, he helped out whenever he could, and he was never demanding or overbearing. Anaya often heard her mom’s say “Love is patient, love is kind” whenever she thought of Carl. He was more than she expected in a partner, and even her two best friends approved of him in their own ways—Sophie called him safe, and Catie called him boring.

“You’re sweet. You know that?” she told him softly.

“Shhh. Don’t say that too loud.” He pretended to look around. “I don’t want everybody to know.”

“You don’t want anybody to know how sweet you are?”

He pressed a kiss on her forehead before adopting an offended expression. “Sweet? No way. If my boys found out that I was running around the lake this early on a Saturday morning, I’d never hear the end of it.”

“If your boys heard you were out here running early on a Saturday morning, they would be jealous of how fit you’re going to be.” She leaned into him, running her hand over his ridged abs—her favorite part of his body.

“They would only be jealous because of who I’m running with.” He winked.

“Stop it.” She punched him playfully. Carl had told her on more than one occasion that his friends thought she was out of his league.

He gave her booty a playful swat then grabbed her hand as she tried to slap him away. “You ready for breakfast? I’m starving.”

They leisurely headed to Lakeshore Café, the crisp morning breeze cool against their damp faces. Lakeshore was crowded. Families and businesses seemed to be moving into the area by the droves. When she was younger, Anaya and her mom would come to Lakeshore after Anaya’s ballet class, and they’d run into other families they knew. They would see the same faces each week and were able to easily grab breakfast or tea without waiting in line. Now she rarely recognized anybody and the restaurant and coffee house lines were insane.

Luckily, a couple was leaving just as they entered the café and they snagged a table right away. They ordered their usual—black coffee and an egg white omelet for her, and orange juice and pancakes for him.

“What do you have on tap for the rest of the day?” Carl asked after the waitress had taken their order.

“I have to help Aunt Deb find a new financial planner and finish my report.” Anaya rubbed her eyes wearily as she thought about the work and family obligations she had planned for the weekend. She liked her job as director of Housing and Community services for Alameda County. The pay was great, and it was good work, but the hours were long and her boss Wendy was a miserable bitch. And she had recently been assigned one of the toughest projects of her career.

If work weren’t enough to drive Anaya mad, she had become the cornerstone of her family since her mom died six years ago—giving financial advice, resolving conflicts (except for the one between her and her sister Ava), and trying to hold the family together. Ever since she’d started working on the naval base project three weeks ago, her days had begun to bleed into each other—work, family, sleep, stress, repeat. She told herself it wouldn’t last forever. No matter how bad things got, she tried to keep her head high, and her complaints at a minimum.

Carl furrowed his brow in confusion. “What happened to the last financial planner you helped her find?”

Anaya sighed. “Same as the one before that. She didn’t trust him.” She gazed out the window, trying not to think about work or family, and just enjoy the present. She watched two men walk by with three dogs and twins in a stroller. She smiled and turned back to Carl.

He leaned in and took her hand. “Hey, you wanna go to Sam’s bowling party next week?”

“Huh?” Anaya asked, pulling away and grabbing a menu from the stand on the table, even though she could recite it in her sleep. Bowling party? Isn’t there an anniversary party coming up too? When do these people rest?

Carl slid the menu away from her with an inquiring look. “Do you want to go to Sam’s bowling party next week?” he repeated slowly. “It’s his birthday and I’d like you to come with me.” He smiled at her. “We haven’t spent much time together lately.”

It was no secret that Anaya and Carl’s friends would never be close. She normally accepted his invitations because she knew Carl’s friends were important to him, but Anaya didn’t particularly enjoy spending time with them.

And no, she didn’t want to go to Sam’s bowling party, or any party hosted by Carl’s friends. Faven, Bobby, Ricky, Sam, and Carl had been best friends since middle school and they were more like siblings. Faven’s parents had paid for Carl’s high school cap and gown, and Bobby’s dad had helped Carl negotiate a good deal when he bought his first car. Anaya was glad Carl had such a strong friend base. She just didn’t understand why she needed to spend so much time with them.

For Carl’s sake, she’d tried to be nice, but even after half a decade and countless social gatherings, she felt like an outsider around them. And while Carl knew she wasn’t close with his friends, she’d never quite figured out how to tell him how isolated she felt when she spent time with them.

“Um, okay.” She fingered the rim of her water glass. “But you mentioned that Faven was having a party soon too.” Maybe I can get out of one of them . . .

Carl nodded happily. “Yeah, her parents are having an anniversary party in a couple of months. We are invited to that as well.”

Of course we are. She paused before saying, “Um, okay” again.

“You sure?” He reached across the small, wooden table and tilted her chin toward him.

No. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

He raised a skeptical brow and leaned back in his seat. “If you don’t want to—”

“No, it’s cool,” she lied, forcing a smile. “I was just thinking about the rest of my day.” Bowling party. Anniversary party. Ugh.

Another bowling party meant more deep-dish pizza and beer. Anaya didn’t drink beer and knew she’d spend the entire night warding off the usual remarks from the ladies: “I see why you’re so skinny. You don’t eat!” or “We are going to have to put some meat on those bones. Here, you can have some of mine.” Hanging out with Carl’s group tested her patience, and because of them she’d exceeded her simple carb threshold four bowling parties ago.

“Sweet. I’ll let Faven know. She’s been hounding me about a head count.”

Super.

Faven and Carl were the closest among the group, and she organized all the group’s gatherings and always managed to leave Anaya out of the details. The only person Faven seemed to like less than Anaya was her husband, Darren. Thanks to Faven’s inclination to gossip, the entire group knew Darren cried after watching Sparkle and that he “lacked spontaneity” in the bedroom. After thirteen years of marriage and three kids, Darren still hadn’t earned Faven’s respect, so Anaya didn’t hold her breath that they would become friends anytime soon.

“Cool.” Anaya fiddled with her napkin. A little bit of dishonesty was preferable to creating tension between her and Carl—at least right now. When she wasn’t so swamped with work and being hunted down by her family members to complete their personal tasks, she’d take time to talk to him.

Carl tucked a wayward curl behind her ear as the waitress brought over their order. Anaya immediately picked up her coffee, the heat on her hands calming her.

Carl began to cut up his pancakes. “The ladies will be happy to see you.”

No they won’t. “Are you sure about that?” She sipped the Jamaican brew. It felt like the warm cloths her mom put on her sore throat as a kid.

Carl furrowed his brow.

Anaya put her hand on his. “I’m just kidding. It should be fun.” She laughed uneasily.

It wouldn’t be fun. It would be slow torture, but Carl was her man, and sometimes you had to take one for the team.

She kept her hand on his and looked out of the window. In her hectic world filled with preparing tax returns for family members, handing out personal loans to her sister, fielding arguments between her aunt and uncle, and handling her ever-growing work responsibilities, Carl was her rock. Her shelter in the eye of the storm.

“You’re stressed.” He looked into her eyes.

“You’re right.”

“Talk to me.” His gentle tone made her want to go back to his place and not leave for three days. But she didn’t have that time luxury right now.

“It’s just the same work stuff.” She was tired of saying it so he must be tired of hearing it. “I’ve had to deal with so many non-emergency emergencies, and then there’s Wendy, of course. This new project has everyone running around like mad. And even though we both work for the county, it’s starting to feel like we are on opposite sides.”

“Why don’t you get out of there?” She’d heard this argument a thousand times before. “With your master’s and your work experience, anyone would want you working for them.”

She smiled at his familiar praise. “I know. I want to see this project through, and then . . .” She shrugged. “Then maybe I will start looking.”

Behind Carl, a young woman with a grocery bag approached their table. Anaya didn’t recognize her. Carl turned around to follow her gaze and straightened up when he saw who was coming.

“Hey, Carl!” The woman gave Anaya a nod as she stopped at their table, and then turned to Carl. Anaya leaned back in her chair. She was accustomed to other women being attracted to Carl. Who wouldn’t be?

“Hey there, Zendaya,” Carl said with a wide smile. “How are you?”

“I’m great.” Zendaya pushed her straight dark hair over her shoulder. A gold stud in her nose glinted in the light, accentuating her bold features. “Fancy seeing you here. Do you live in the area?” Her voice sounded like she drank golden honey tea all day.

She’s cheerful. And cute, Anaya thought, taking a small bite of omelet.

“Actually, I do. About a mile away.” Carl seemed to sense Anaya’s thoughts and took Anaya’s hand. “Zendaya, this is my girlfriend, Anaya. Anaya, Zendaya.”

Anaya extended her other hand. “It’s a pleasure.”

Zendaya’s hand was as warm as her smile. “You’re even more beautiful than the picture on Carl’s desk.”

Ah, so she’s been in his office. “Thank you. That’s sweet. So you two work together?” Anaya asked Carl. He had never mentioned this Ryan Destiny look-alike with her tiny shorts and neo-soul vibe.

“Not really.” She laughed. “Carl is my nephew’s social worker, and he’s been helping me navigate the system so I can get custody. He’s been a godsend.” Zendaya put her hand on Carl’s shoulder.

Anaya tilted her head and looked at Carl with a smile. “That’s Carl. A godsend.”

“Yes, he’s come by the house a few times to talk to Tyrell and even showed up at his school once. He just goes above and beyond.”

“Yes, he does.” Anaya was still smiling at Carl. “Above and beyond.”

“Well, I’ll talk to you later, Carl. It was great meeting you, Anaya. I have to get going.” Zendaya turned to leave, then suddenly spun back. “Carl, are you still going to the festival?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool, we will see you there. I’m going to get Tyrell from practice now.”

“Okay. See you guys soon,” Carl said.

“She’s pretty,” Anaya said as she watched Zendaya maneuver through the crowd and exit the café.

“Who? Zen? Is she? She’s a client, so . . .”

“So that makes you oblivious to how attractive Zen is?”

“Come on now. I’m not interested in her that way.”

Anaya rolled her eyes. “Come on, Carl. She’s gorgeous. Just because we’re in a relationship doesn’t mean you don’t find other women attractive. Just don’t act on it and we will be fine.” She paused. “Seriously though, she looks young. Is she actually going to get custody of her nephew?”

“Yep. She’s determined. Tyrell’s a good kid, just born in unfortunate circumstances.”

“That’s admirable. Does Zendaya have kids of her own?”

“No, she just wants to do the right thing.”

“Impressive,” Anaya said. Her smart watch buzzed, and she looked down to read the notification.

“Don’t tell me you have to go already,” Carl said.

“Pretty soon.” She hated to say it. She didn’t want to revisit the “you work too much” conversation because it never ended well. Gone were the days of long lunches and half-day Fridays at County. Anaya was now responsible for a thirty-million-dollar budget and a staff of sixty and was currently in the middle of the naval base project—the biggest development agreement in county history, and during her career.

“It’s a gorgeous day.” Carl interrupted Anaya’s thoughts. “The carnival Zendaya mentioned is for some of the kids who are getting permanent home placements. Can you come for a few hours? I want you to meet that little girl I told you about.”

Anaya shook her head and finished eating her omelet. “Sounds fun, Carl, but I can’t. I will come to the next one.” She pushed her plate away. “You ready to go?”

“Actually, I’m not.” He held on to her hands. “I’m enjoying you.”

Anaya smiled and squeezed his hands. Carl’s sweet sentiments echoed in her heart. She couldn’t imagine loving him any more than she did. “I’m enjoying you too. And if I could stay with you all day, I would. As soon as this project is over, we are going to take a trip. I think we both need it.”

He paid the bill, and they walked to her car that was parked in front of his condo.

“Do you want to come up?” he asked.

She glanced at her watch and groaned. It would be a miracle if she finished everything she needed to today. “I can’t. I’m already running late.” She turned to get in her car, then noticed Carl’s glum expression. He tapped a rock on the ground with the tip of his tennis shoe.

Anaya put her arms around him. “I promise we will hang out later in the week. Last week was a little crazy.”

“And the two weeks before that?”

She grimaced. He didn’t know how much she’d rather be with him instead of working. She kissed him and got in her car. She wasn’t going to ruin the morning with tension. “I will call you later,” she said from her window.

“We gotta do better than this,” he said, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants.

“I know.” She blew him a kiss. Anaya needed to change her priorities or she risked losing the best thing that ever happened to her.

TWO

Anaya drove down the street she had lived on her entire life. The neighborhood had developed during the zeitgeist of white picket fences and bungalow porches. Her mom had taken great care in keeping the house and yard impeccable and since her death, her dad Roscoe accepted the responsibility. The yard was still one of the best maintained on the block, secure behind the white picket fence her mom had loved.

She pulled into the driveway and saw her dad, Uncle Allen, and Uncle Riley sitting on the porch. Riley and her father smiled at her, but Allen seemed to barely notice she was there. I hope it’s not Aunt Marie again.

“Hi, Daddy,” Anaya called stepping out of her car and slinging a drawstring bag across her back. She walked over and gave him a hug. “Hey, Uncle Allen, Uncle Riley.”

“Hi there, baby girl.” Roscoe looked up and shielded his eyes from the sun.

“Hey, niecey,” Uncle Riley said. Uncle Allen nodded and accepted her hug.

“Did you beat Carl around the lake again?” Roscoe’s laugh sounded like gurgling water.

“Yep. Sailed past him like a champ.”

“Don’t show him up too bad,” Roscoe joked. “He might not like that.”

“Point taken.” Anaya pointed a finger at her dad.

“You’re looking more like your mama every day,” Riley said.

“Thank you,” she replied. It was a familiar compliment, but she still liked hearing it.

“Your mama was a beautiful woman. She was smart too,” Roscoe said, looking over the yard.

“Yes, she was,” Riley agreed.

“What are you guys up to?” Anaya asked.

Allen finally smiled and looked up at her. “Ah, just hanging out. We were supposed to go play a few holes, but your daddy got here late. Been at that nursery again.” Allen laughed.

“We can still make it,” Roscoe said, rubbing the back of his neck and avoiding Anaya’s gaze. “We just got caught up talking.”

She didn’t know what Allen was teasing her dad about, but she smiled. She was glad her dad had the yard and her uncles to keep him busy.

“Well, you guys have fun,” Anaya said as she headed into the house.

The interior of the Goode house looked exactly the same as when Anaya was growing up. The brown leather sofa still faced the fireplace at an awkward angle, the rubber fig plant, browning at the edges, overwhelmed the corner near the kitchen, and the wobbly leg on the coffee table was a constant reminder of cousin Marguerite’s fall while trying to perform a dance move to prove to Aunt Deb that her size 18 frame didn’t keep her from doing anything a size 8 could do. The house was full of memories—family spats, holidays past, a Warriors-Lakers divide, parental tirades. But as much as the Goode house appeared to be the same, the people who lived inside had changed drastically over the years.

Anaya headed upstairs and settled into her home office, formerly her brother Andrew’s room. When he was tragically killed just before she started college, Anaya had decided to be a commuter student so she could support her parents and sister. Then her mom died right before Anaya started her master’s program, and again, thinking her dad and sister needed her, she stayed home. Now almost thirty, she had never lived on her own.

Anaya shrugged off the familiar twinge of disappointment. By staying at home, she had been able to save her money and could now afford to buy almost any house she wanted in the competitive Bay Area housing market. She always used that reminder to ward off feelings of regret.

She looked at her seemingly never-ending list of tasks and decided to start by calling caterers to see which one was available to help with Roscoe’s sixtieth birthday celebration in a few weeks. Next, she added a reminder to Monday’s to-do list to look into an internship with the County’s health department for her cousin Amber. She skipped over the job of finding a financial planner for Aunt Deb by editing cousin Marguerite’s resume. She was starting to regret not going to Carl’s house.

Her cell rang.

“Hello?”

“Hi, sister dear.”

“Hey, Ava. What’s up?” Anaya rubbed her chest, feeling a twinge of heartburn. She popped two Zantacs before leaning back in her chair.

“Not much. Blessed and highly favored,” Ava said breathlessly. “How are you?”

“I’m good. Just trying to get some stuff done.” Anaya could hear the boys yelling in the background and imagined the complete chaos of Ava’s house. “Where’s Joe?” She asked the question out of habit. Joe was always at the gym. Joe Carraway was a nice guy and loved Ava and the boys, but he wasn’t always helpful.

“At the gym.”

“I see,” Anaya said. The fact that going to the gym seemed more important to Joe than finding a job to support his family never made sense to Anaya. Nice pecs don’t pay the bills.

“I wanted to check on you,” Ava said brightly.

Anaya was immediately suspicious. Ava was never overly concerned about anything except her children, healthy eating habits, cancer awareness, and keeping the Sabbath holy. She wanted something.

“Well, that’s nice of you,” Anaya replied. “I’m fine.”

“You and Daddy getting along?” Ava asked.

That was a silly question. Roscoe was the mildest mannered person they knew, even when he drank, which he hadn’t since their mom died. He was a loving and supportive father. Their getting along had never been an issue.

“Yes, we are,” Anaya said. “How are the boys?”

“Doing great,” Ava gushed. “Jeremiah and Hezekiah are running around pretending to be pirates, and Joshua is in his rocker. I just finished feeding them breakfast.” Ava may not have had a dime to her name, but she didn’t let anything ruin her mood. It was annoyingly refreshing. She and Joe were similar that way. “Joe had an interview yesterday, and I think this job is going to come through.”

“Oh?” Anaya yawned. Joe had gone to more than a dozen interviews in the last two months, and he still didn’t have a job. But Ava was steadfastly optimistic despite Joe’s crop of failed interviews. In Anaya’s opinion, something wasn’t right. Joe wasn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer, but he should be able to get another job besides being a part-time fitness trainer.

“And he helped his uncle lay carpet the other day, so that check will be coming any day now.” Ava continued as if she were talking to herself. “I know our breakthrough is coming, I can feel it. God is so faithful.”

It was funny how people changed. Growing up, Ava was the corporation-protesting, sustainability-promoting academic, determined to rid the planet of capitalism and carnivorous pleasures. She didn’t like hanging out with friends the way Andrew and Anaya did. She excelled in school, so Anita and Roscoe didn’t worry too much about her lack of social life. They worried even less when she was accepted into all twelve of the colleges she applied to.

When their mom died, Ava deferred college for a year, during which time she found herself most comfortable at a local church. That’s when her focus shifted to being “saved.” Then she met and married Joe and morphed into a baby-toting, scripture-quoting, tofu-eating career student who couldn’t keep a job or the required minimum balance in her checking account. Ava still believed in fighting the good fight but now she did so between pregnancies, Boy Scout meetings, and church auxiliaries. Their family lived off of Joe’s meager earnings as a trainer—the only job he could hold—and Ava’s part-time job. Joe and Ava earned enough money to pay the bills and very little else.

“What’s the interview for?” Anaya started re-reading cousin Marguerite’s resume.

“It’s for a position at that new credit union downtown. Perfect for Joe!”

Anaya rolled her eyes. “Ava, has Joe worked in finance before?”

“Well, no, but he’s good with numbers.”

“Why did Joe quit his last job again? I thought they paid pretty well.”

“They did, but they wanted him to work on Sundays.”

“So?” Anaya waited for an explanation.

“So? So, we worship on Sundays. He can’t go to work and leave his family to worship alone on the Sabbath. The Bible says, ‘Forsake not the assembly of thineself.’”

Anaya closed her eyes. She would never see eye to eye with her sister on religion. “Can’t you guys go to church a different day, Ava?”

“Ny, you know we attend church on Sundays,” Ava said matter-of-factly. “Which leads to my next question. The boys are outgrowing their shoes and need a few other things. I was wondering if you could loan me some money.”

First of all, asking for money had nothing to do with going to church on Sundays. Second of all, Anaya had loaned Ava two hundred dollars last month. Or was it earlier this month?

“Again? How much, Ava?”

“Six hundred dollars.”

Anaya almost choked on her saliva. “Six hundred dollars! Are you shopping at Gucci?”

“No, silly. I also need to cover a few bills. We are a little short.”

Anaya sighed. This was getting old. “So you guys don’t have any money?”

“If you don’t want to lend me the money, that’s fine. The Bible says, ‘Be of good cheer for I have overcome the world.’ I won’t hold my head down because my husband is seeking better employment. God is on the throne, so I know I will get through this.”

Shut up!

“Ava, nobody asked you to keep your head down. But you need to do more to help yourself. You’re smart. You can get another job.”

Ava worked from home as a reservationist for United Airlines—twenty hours a week for the past five years. She mostly did it for the health benefits. She had considered getting another job when Jeremiah was a baby but found out she was pregnant with Hezekiah before Jeremiah could crawl. And in the spirit of consistency, she followed the same pattern with Joshua. The older boys were in preschool, but Joshua still wasn’t potty trained, so he stayed home with Ava during the day.

“You’re right. I’m smart. I graduated summa cum laude, remember?”

Yes, I remember. You won’t let me forget. You won’t let anybody forget.

“I remember Ava, but that’s not the point. Faith is fine, but a job is better, don’t you think?”

“I don’t doubt my God.”

Anaya realized she needed to change tactics. “Neither do I, Ava. But faith without work is dead. God is merciful and understanding, but you have to look for a job yourself. God doesn’t do interview and resume skills.”

“I will not worry about my future because God doesn’t give us a fear of worry. If anybody should worry, it should be Aunt Deb because she uses those harsh color chemicals in her hair. You know hair coloring causes cancer, right? And you know all that psychic stuff she’s into is satanic. Aunt Deb needs to go to the altar and pray that stuff off of her. And Aunt Marie? She . . .”

Ava continued her rant until Anaya sighed. “Ava, I have work to do. I will bring the money by in the next few days.”

“Thank you, sister! You know I appreciate you. Hold on a sec, Ny.” Ava’s voice became muffled. “Hezekiah, honey, put that lamp down, you might break it.” The one scripture that Ava never quoted was “spare the rod, spoil the child.”

“Sounds like you need to get back to the boys, Ava. I will see you tomorrow.”

“Wait. How is Carl doing?”

“He’s good.” Cue her speech about marriage and fornication.

“When are you two going to get married? You can’t keep fornicating, Ny, you know that’s not right. The Lord said it’s better to marry than to burn.”

“The Lord didn’t say that, Ava, the apostle Paul said it. And you don’t know if I’m fornicating or not,” Anaya said. “You aren’t in my bedroom.”

“Well thank God for that.” She chuckled. “But I know Carl is a man, and a man isn’t going to go for too long without sex,” Ava said firmly.

“Why do you always find a way to talk about my sex life? It’s weird.”

“I’m just trying to help save your soul, sister dear. You better stay woke.”

“Carl and I are taking our time, thanks. We don’t want a bunch of kids running around that we can’t afford.” Anaya cringed as soon as the words left her mouth. Crap. Here we go.

“The Bible says to be fruitful and multiply,” Ava replied, overly bright.

“The Bible also says that if a man doesn’t work, he doesn’t eat.” Anaya had prepared her own comebacks to keep up with Ava’s incessant Bible-quoting. If Ava was going to dish it, she should be prepared to swallow it too.

“Spiteful talk, Ny.”

Anaya resisted the urge to throttle her phone and replied calmly, “No. It’s realistic. Don’t criticize my relationship when you and Joe haven’t figured out your lives either.”

There was a pause. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” Anaya said slowly, “that I’m writing you checks too often, Ava. I think someone in your house needs to get a job.”

“We have jobs,” Ava said, as if Anaya were missing the point.

“Your jobs are not enough,” Anaya said. “Don’t you want to be able to provide for the boys? They are growing and need things. I don’t mind helping, but I can’t be your supplemental income.”

“I didn’t ask you to be.”

“Not in so many words.”

“Wow. Look at you,” Ava said. For the first time, her tone shifted from bouncy to sharp. “Calling out the splinter in my eye and ignoring the plank in yours.”

Anaya couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “You know what, Ava? Maybe I do have a plank in my eye, but you know what else? I can afford it. You can’t get tweezers to pluck the splinter out of your eye without me writing a check for it.”

Ava gasped. “Whoa, somebody’s salty.”

“Nobody’s salty.” Anaya sighed. “Listen, Ava, I really have to go. I’ll see you tomorrow.” And she hung up.

Anaya pushed her chair back from her desk and leaned back with a sigh, waiting for her irritation at Ava to pass. Her gaze floated around the room until it caught on a green A’s hat hooked on the corner of the bookshelf, and she was swept away in a memory of simpler times.

“Give it back!” Anaya yelled, chasing Andrew into the kitchen. He was too quick for her and rounded the island in the kitchen before darting around the breakfast table. As he turned the corner into the living room, his green A’s hat fell onto the floor, and quick as lightning, Anaya snatched it up triumphantly. He reached for it, but she put it behind her back.

“Will you two cut that out?” Anita said from the dining room where she examined swatches in preparation for redoing the laundry room. She stood up to block their path as Anaya ran, squealing, away from Andrew’s outstretched hands.

“Andrew took the remote control. I was watching The Proud Family, and he just snatched it from me!” Anaya yelled, her two pigtails flailing as she tried to escape her brother.

“The Lakers are playing, Ma,” Andrew said. “It’s the fourth quarter. I’ll let her watch TV when it’s over. Her show is all re-runs anyway.”

“You can’t just come into the living room while somebody is watching a show and change the channel without even asking them. It’s rude.” Anaya folded her arms.

“I did ask, and you said no.” Andrew smiled. He was annoying but was still everyone’s favorite. Even when he was being a television hog.

“Well then, you have your answer.”

“Anaya, help me get dinner finished and let your brother watch the game,” Anita said. “It will be over soon. Then you can watch your show.”

“Yes!” Andrew pumped his arm. “Love you, Ma. And Ny, you know you’re my favorite sister.” He blew a kiss across the room, which she ignored.

“You always pick his side, mom,” Anaya whined, following her mom into the kitchen. “Always.”

“I’m not picking sides.” Anita pulled some greens from the refrigerator. “Cut these up.”

Anaya pulled out a cutting board and knife. “But it’s not fair. I finished my homework and my chores before I started watching television. Andrew walks in from practice, probably hasn’t done a lick of homework, and he gets to watch what he wants.”

Anita sighed. “Life isn’t fair, Anaya, and I don’t want to leave this earth with you thinking that it is. You won’t always get your way, and sometimes you have to give, even when you don’t get anything in return. That’s just the way life is.” Anita walked over and held Anaya’s chin in her hand. “You’re strong and can handle more than most people. You understand? If you just do what you are supposed to do and don’t complain, you will always get ahead in life. Some of us are required to do more and you, my dear, are one of those people. You have to be smarter and stronger than other people, but you will be a better person for it.”

Anita kissed Anaya on the forehead and released her chin.

Anaya nodded and turned back to chopping. She didn’t want to be a better person. She wanted to get her way like her siblings always did. It seemed like she was always the one who had to give, and she rarely got anything in return. She had to help her mom cook, do the majority of the chores, and always concede when it came to her siblings. Andrew was the fun favorite and Ava was “sensitive”—whatever that meant. As far as Anaya was concerned, her siblings were spoiled, and being the middle child wasn’t fair.

The back door that led into the mud room next to the kitchen slammed, and Anaya saw her mom straighten her back and take a deep breath. Her daddy stumbled into the kitchen, the scent of alcohol strong on his body. Anaya kept chopping the vegetables, but also watched the familiar scene, a tight knot of worry in her gut.

“Hey, my beautiful wife,” Roscoe sang out. He dropped his lunch bag on the floor and tried to kiss Anita, but she turned her head slightly. He moved to sit at the table but knocked one of the chairs over. Anita started a pot of coffee.

“Hello Roscoe,” Anita said tightly, glancing in Anaya’s direction. Anaya pretended to be focused on the greens. She didn’t want her parents to get divorced, but if Roscoe kept coming home drunk, she didn’t know what her mom would do. Anaya overheard her mom telling Aunt Marie over the phone that she was going to take the kids and move to Atlanta if Roscoe didn’t straighten up. Anaya didn’t know exactly what that meant, but every night, she prayed for Roscoe to straighten up.

“Smells good in here, Nita,” Roscoe stammered. “You was always a good cook. I knew you was gonna make a good wife and mother.” He leaned forward to try to kiss her again and almost fell out of his chair.

“Roscoe, drink this coffee.” She set the cup in front of him. Before he could even reach for it, he closed his eyes and passed out, head down on the kitchen table. Anita sighed. “Anaya, help me get his shoes off and get him into the den before your sister and brother see.”

It wasn’t the first time Anita asked Anaya to help her cover up Roscoe coming home drunk. After Roscoe was snoring on the couch, the phone rang and Andrew yelled, “Anaya, telephone! It’s Sophie!”

“I hate my parents,” Sophie said as soon as Anaya picked up.

“What happened?” Anaya said. She listened to Sophie talk for thirty minutes about her parents missing another one of her dance recitals. There was no point mentioning how her daddy had just passed out. It happened all the time. She was strong. She could handle it. She could handle anything.

The ding of a new email shook Anaya out of the memory, and she twirled her chair to face her computer screen. She squinted when she recognized the sender’s name. Now that’s a blast from the forlorn past.

She couldn’t wait to tell the girls about this at brunch tomorrow.

THREE

“Do you like it?”

Catie frowned as Antoine fiddled with the change in his pockets. His indifference was exhausting. They had spent two hours looking at cribs, and Catie was ready to make a decision, but Antoine apparently felt it was more important to clink the coins in his pocket. She agreed that most of the beds were white, frilly, and overpriced, but it was about the process. This was for their baby girl, for goodness’ sake. Their first child.

“Yeah,” he said.

“No, you don’t.” Catie tried to control her irritation, but she was frustrated by what seemed like deliberate unconcern. Antoine knew that choosing a bed was important to her, and instead of being supportive, he was sulking and playing with the stupid change in his stupid pocket.

“I like it. I just don’t know why you have to pick one that is so expensive,” he said, his voice so low that Catie had to lean in to hear.

“This is the same crib Princess Charlotte had!”

Antoine looked around the posh boutique and put his finger to his lips. “Shhh. I don’t care if it’s the same bed King Combs had. It doesn’t make sense to buy a bed that costs so much when the baby will grow out of it in a year.”

“Don’t shhh me! And yes it does. It’s the best. I want the best for our baby, and you should too!”

“Fine. Buy it.”

Catie saw the woman behind the register look over at them, and she turned her back to the snooping sales rep.

“Are you serious right now?” she hissed. It wasn’t Catie’s fault she could afford a luxury crib and he couldn’t. He should be grateful instead of standing there looking like he was going to puke. He was so ungrateful and contrary. And his constant clinking of coins made her want to scream. “Are you really playing with coins while we are deciding on a bed for our baby?”

“Deciding? That would include discussion and compromise,” Antoine said with thinly veiled sarcasm. “I suggested Macy’s or Target, but once again you ignored me, and here we are at this hoity-toity furniture store with stuff that costs way too much.” They were losing their battle with discretion.

“First of all,” she held up a finger, “I’m not buying my baby’s bed from Target. Have you lost your mind?”

Instead of rising to the fight, Antoine seemed to deflate. “Catie, buy the bed. You want it, so get it. And put your finger down.”

“We are supposed to do this together.” This was not how she had pictured crib shopping for their child.

“Together?” he asked.

“Together,” she repeated.

“Buy it.” He pulled out his phone.

Catie raised her eyebrows, spun on her heels, and walked away. “I’m not going to buy it if you’re gonna pout.”

Antoine caught up to her by the door. “Just get the bed, Catie,” he said.

“You don’t like anything that I like.” She kept walking, and he groaned and opened the door for her.

“Have a great afternoon!” the clerk called as the door swung shut.

Antoine and Catie had differing opinions about family, finances, where to live, what to name the baby, and whether or not to go to church. The additional conflict of choosing a luxury crib was the icing on the cake.

Catie stared out the car window as they drove home. She was getting sick of Antoine’s indifference or worse, irritation, when she did something he didn’t like. He knew who she was when they got together, and now he was complaining that she paid too much for things and worried too much about the store. She was a boss—literally, with her own clothing company—and that was never going to change.

Antoine put a hand on her thigh and glanced at her. “Look, I’m sorry,” he said. “I really, really don’t want to have another fight. It seems like that’s all we do lately. If you want to buy the bed, Caitlin, please get the bed. It’s just expensive and you know how I am, but I know you like finer things, so babe, just get it.”

“It’s fine,” she said, but it wasn’t. She didn’t feel like talking to the man who had ruined her beautiful Saturday morning with nonsense. Antoine knew Target would never be an option for buying a bed. She continued to stare out of the window.

Antoine sighed.

Catie and Antoine had met as kids when Antoine’s mom, Wanda, dated Anaya’s uncle Riley. They fell out of touch when Wanda and Riley broke up but reconnected years later through Anaya. Catie had always been attracted to Antoine, and not just because of his model looks and perfect body. Antoine was kind and made up for his mediocre income with his genuineness and thoughtfulness. Once, Catie broke her heel at Anaya’s birthday party, and Antoine had carried her to her car. Neither of them knew their fathers, they both grew up in rough neighborhoods, and loyalty meant everything to them. At first, it seemed unlikely that they would survive as a couple, but two-and-a-half years later Antoine was still the blue-collar yin to Catie’s YSL yang.

Their differences had started to clash more openly after moving in together last year, and even more since Catie became pregnant.

“Are you hungry?”

Catie was never too upset for food, but she wanted him to sweat it out for a while. She eyed him with frosty calm before saying, “Okay.” Then she asked, “Antoine, do you lie?”

Antoine furrowed his brow. “It’s not my hobby or anything.” He chuckled. “But I’m sure I’ve told a tale or two in my day.”

She studied his face, unamused. Antoine’s face was like an open book. “A tale or two?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you lie to me?”

“Nope.”

“So you always tell me the truth?”

“What is this about, babe?” he asked.

“What is what about?”

“I don’t know. These questions. The attitude. Getting all mad about the bed. I just didn’t expect this today. I thought today was going to be . . .” He didn’t finish his thought and kept his eyes on the road.

“Well?” Catie narrowed her eyes and glared at him. “Do you tell the truth?”

“Catie, I do. I always tell you the truth.” He looked at her seriously as he pulled into the parking lot of one of her favorite restaurants.

She folded her arms across her chest.

“Do you want to eat here or do you want to get food to go?”

“To go,” she pouted.

Antoine got out of the car.

To distract herself, Catie scrolled through Instagram while she waited for Antoine. Instagram was great for her business—she gained a lot of customers from posting—but she got tired of seeing the same posts over and over from the same overexposed people.

Look at me in a bathing suit. I look great, don’t I?

Look at my beautiful children and amazing husband.

Look at me, I don’t know how to correctly upload photos, but I’m going to flood your timeline anyway.

Look at me pretending to be happy when I’m utterly miserable and uncomfortable in my own skin.

Look at me pretending to be empowering and uplifting when I’m indeed a hater.

She was over it. She checked Kensington Palace’s latest posts. She adored Meghan Markle. Just as she zoomed in on a photo of Meghan and Harry, Antoine’s cell phone buzzed in the cup holder between the front seats. She absently picked it up and looked at the screen.

When will I see you again? It’s been too long.

Catie frowned and looked toward the restaurant doors where Antoine had disappeared.