Page 71 of Prickly Romance

Mom, shockingly, manages to keep her composure when Yaya jumps from behind me and signs, ‘Surprise!’

I stand back and watch my parents hug Yaya, knowing how much it means to have her home.

“What are you doing, Deej? Get over here.” Mom hooks an arm around my neck and drags me into the family huddle.

For a woman who’s an inch shy of five feet, she’s surprisingly strong.

I wrap one arm around my mother’s slim waist and another around my father’s happy paunch. They squeeze me in turn and we all take a collective breath together.

After dad releases me, he swipes under his eye. “It feels good to have both my girls home.”

“I haven’t been gone that long,” Yaya signs.

Dad gestures, “You never call.”

Yaya moves her dominant hand back and forth. “I’m busy.”

“Even if you’re busy, you should still remember to call.”

“Don’t scold her, Darius. She just got home.” Mom gives dad a little shove.

Yaya rolls her eyes, but a grin plays across her lips.

Mom wipes dark hands against her jeans. “Are you girls hungry? Let me make you something to eat.”

“I’m starving,” Yaya signs. She throws herself backward into the couch and extends one long, muscle-bound leg.

My sister used to run track in high school and the muscle definition remained long after she quit.

“I’m not hungry.” I follow mom into the kitchen to get some water. “I had a late lunch.”

“What did you have for lunch?” mom asks, eyeing me over her shoulder as she reaches for something in the cupboard.

“Miso soup.”

“Is that Nigerian?”

“It’s Japanese,” I mutter.

“I thought the only Japanese food you could stomach was sushi.”

“Apparently not. The soup I had today was incredible.”

“We should all try it out.” Mom’s smile lights up her face. “Wouldn’t that be nice?”

I nod absently.

Dad stalks into the kitchen a hand on his stomach. His chubby cheeks bunch under his eyes when he sees me. “Hey, sugar, what’s the latest with you?”

“Everything’s the same.”

“What about that café you were working at? Are you still there?”

“The shop went bankrupt,” I say.

“Have you managed to find a new job?” Mom sets a loaf of bread and a jar of mayonnaise on the counter.

“Sort of. It’s only a temporary thing. I’ll probably be job-hunting again after graduation.”

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