Page 13 of The Secret to a Southern Wedding

Imani stared at them, waiting for the scene to change, but it didn’t. She pinched herself just to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. Pain shot out from the spot she twisted on her arm. Nope. Not a dream. Her mom really was grinning like a love-struck bird fluttering around a man in her kitchen.

Imani hadn’t seen a man in this house since her dad packed up his bags and moved out while her mom was still in the hospital. “Mom?”

Linda gave her a curious look. “What, baby?”

What? What did she mean what? Imani pointed to Preston, who was now humming as he took the pancakes out of the pan. “This is not okay.”

“Why not? He’s going to be your stepfather. Did you expect him to not be around?” Linda asked in a sweetly innocent voice. As if it shouldn’t be an astronomical shock for Imani to find the man flipping pancakes in a tiny-ass robe first thing in the morning.

“Mom!” she said with another pointed look at Preston’s back. Were they really going to have this conversation in front of him?

“Don’t ‘mom’ me and quit acting as if you can’t talk in front of Preston. Get yourself a plate and eat with us. Then I can tell you about the plans for later today.”

“Plans?” Were they going to buy a defibrillator? Because if this was what she’d have to deal with while home, then Imani would need one to shock her heart back to normal.

“We’re looking at the wedding venue later. All four of us. It’ll be a good way for you and Cyril to start over.”

Preston turned around with the plate of freshly made pancakes. “Breakfast is ready. Imani, can you get the syrup out of the cabinet?”

Imani stared first at Preston’s grinning face. He stared at her with such eagerness. She doubted puppies at the pound had such hopeful “love me” looks in their eyes. She focused on her mom who also smiled, but where Preston appeared eager her mom was determined. Imani had seen that look before. The “don’t back talk and don’t give me any problems” look. They really wanted her to sit around the breakfast table like they were some type of family? To not act like the last time three people sat around that table was back when her family was still together.

Frustration, disbelief and more than a pinch of anger twisted her insides. She shook her head and took a step back. “You know what. I’m not hungry.”

She turned and hurried back to her room without another word.

“And they both just stared at me like I was the one acting out. So, I left and came over here.”

Imani finished her rant and sat back, arms crossed, in the wooden seat around her cousin Halle’s kitchen table. After the scene with her mom and Preston she knew she couldn’t stay in the house. Whenever she’d felt like that as a teen she’d escape to Halle’s house. As if two decades hadn’t passed, Halle was the first person she’d thought of when she left in a rush.

Halle still lived in the small cottage-style house in Peachtree Cove’s former mill village with her daughter, Shania. She’d inherited the place after her father died when she was in college. Just three years after Halle’s mom passed. Halle had hired a housekeeper to keep the house clean while she finished college, then returned to Peachtree Cove with a master’s degree in education and a newborn baby. She didn’t talk about Shania’s dad, and after hitting numerous brick walls, Imani stopped pushing for the entire story.

Halle leaned against the kitchen counter, a white-and-purple polka-dot robe over her full curves, and a red satin bonnet over her hair. She cradled a mug of coffee between her hands and gave Imani the same, even, I’m listening despite you being extra stare she’d adopted when they were kids and perfected over her years working at a middle school.

“That’s why you had to run over here and wake me up?” Halle asked before sipping her coffee.

“Yes!”

“You do realize I don’t get up before ten on the weekends if I can help it,” Halle said in a dry tone.

“No, but this is an emergency. Remember, we always stick together in emergencies.”

Halle rolled her eyes. “Imani, this is not an emergency. I told you Mr. Preston is a nice man. Everyone in town knows how much he loves your momma.”

“He was in a bathrobe, Halle! All his chest and legs out for anyone to see.” She slapped the table and leaned forward. “He spent the night.”

Halle smirked. “You saying your momma can’t get any?”

Imani waved a hand. “Stop, I don’t want to hear anything about that.”

Halle laughed and shook her head. “If you don’t stop being silly. I’m happy for Aunt Linda and you should be, too. She deserves this after everything she went through, and honestly, I’m glad she’s getting some on the regular. If only I could be so lucky,” Halle mumbled.

An image of Cyril smiling at her at the Dairy Bar drifted in her head. “Ain’t that the truth,” she whispered.

Halle’s eyes widened. “It’s been a while for you, too? I thought you were seeing some guy.”

“I went on a couple of dates with a guy last month. The sex was mediocre at best, but that’s not the point.” Imani swiped a hand through the air. No need to get lost in the disappointment of her last sexual encounter or get sucked into the lingering attraction she had for Cyril. “We’re talking about my mom. The same woman who for years told me not to trust what a man said and never, ever be a fool for love. She said she would never, ever get married again, but now she’s having some rushed wedding. She gushing over this man, and letting him spend the night? And I’m supposed to just...accept it?”

Halle nodded. “Yes.”

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