Page 31 of Call Me Mrs. Taylor

Pop chuckles, inclining his head for me to follow him.

“Andyoushoulda had more kids,” I say. “Some boys.”

“I wanted more.”

“Mama was done after she had me, huh?”

He nods. “She got what she wanted.”

I grin when I hear that, because at least I know I made her happy at some point.

“Where’s this girl you told us about?”

“She’ll be here,” I say, shifting the weight of the pack. “It ain’t serious, though. We’re just kickin’ it.”

“It’s serious enough for you to bring her over here.”

I don’t respond. I don’t really know how to answer that. Itdoessound serious now that I hear him say it out loud.

The last woman I brought over here was Kenzie Tucker, a Brooklyn-raised clothing boutique owner I met at a club we were at to celebrate Bron’s birthday. Me and Kenz were kinda serious, in that we were exclusively fucking and hanging out with each other. But I never claimed her. I guess bringing her here was my way of testing our situation. Checking the foundation. I think she knew that, too, because she was nervous as hell.

In the end, Kenzie didn’t pass muster. My sisters liked her, but Jackson and Angela were quick to find fault. They thought she was a little too rough around the edges, which I defended by telling them that was just her Brooklyn-girl edge. And despite her entrepreneurial success, they decried her lack of college degree and single mother family of origin as being below my standards.

I was a grown ass man at the time, so I set my own damn standards, but it wasn’t about their approval. I was looking for any excuse not to commit, and they gave it to me. If I’d been in love with Kenzie, nothing, especially my mother’s snobbery, would have stopped me from moving forward with her.

I’m for damn sure not in love with Raya. The sex is flames, but that’s where it ends. She has potential, though. That’s the key.

After me and Pop finish our tasks, I make my way over to my mother, who’s holding court like the queen she is—flanked by Kamryn, Vanessa, and their friends.

“Oh, I see my baby,” she says softly, placing her glass of Chardonnay on the table.

She embraces me more lovingly than she would if nobody was watching, but I’ll take it, and I do, because that’s my mama.

“You smell good,” she says as we part. “When did you start wearing cologne?”

“I always have,” I say. “I got into Arab fragrances recently.”

She crinkles her nose. “That explains the harshness.”

“You just said I smell good!”

“You do,” she laughs. “But in a cheap way.”

I shake my head and turn to my sisters. I hug Vanessa first, because it’s been longer since I’ve seen her. Then I hug Kamryn, mushing her afterwards for good measure because that’s how we do. After I greet Cherelle and Zoya, I grab a beer out of the cooler and take my seat, pulling out my phone just as a text comes through.

Raya

Parking now

Cool. Come around the right side of the house and go through the gate

I should go out and meet her at the car, but I don’t. That would beserious. Or maybe I’m in denial and fighting the urge to be her boyfriend. I don’t know yet, but we’ll see in a minute.

She emerges a few moments later, and I’m taken aback. She looks…different.

Physically, she’s still fine as fuck, wearing a yellow sundress that’s popping against her brown skin. Her hair is pulled back in a loose ponytail. Face pretty, as always.

It’s her expression that’s different.

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