The overpowering rush to be in his presence has me telling Jamir, “It’s okay. I’ll ride with Iree.”
“Oh,” he sighs. “Okay. I’m sorry, babe.”
“It’s fine.”
“I’ll come by your place after work.”
“All right.” I slip the phone into my bag and tell Kross, “Thank you.”
“It’s no problem.” He winks, sets my suitcase in the back, and closes the door once I climb in.
“Where to, Davia?” he asks as he drives off. I appreciate that he’s keeping his word and acting normal.
“Lakeland Park.”
“Paris was so amazing,” Iree gushes. “I can’t thank you enough, D.”
“Yeah, it’s kind of you. I’ll have to treat you soon.”
“Weshould,” Iree corrects, emphasizing the word.
“That’s not necessary.” I stare out the window to avoid looking at him.
“I’ll drop you off first, Ree,” he states. “Since we’re coming up to Mama G’s first.”
“Mama G?” I inquire.
“That’s my gran,” Iree explains, voice full of love. “She raised us, including Kross.”
“She’s an angel,” he adds.
Their grandma also raised him? I’m curious how that happened.
As Kross pulls up at a charming blue bungalow, a short older woman with a bronzy tone like Iree steps onto the porch, wearing a headwrap and lounge attire.
“Come say hi, D,” Iree urges as they exit the car.
I climb out, approaching with Kross after he removes her suitcase from the back.
“Hey, my babies,” the lovely woman greets.
“Hi, Gran.” Iree leans into her snug embrace. “Mmm. You smell like home.”
She lets out a gritty laugh. “How was your trip?”
“One I’ll never forget.” Iree motions to me. “This is—”
“Mama G, this is Davia,” Kross beats her to it. “A big-time designer atLa Monte.”
I snort. “Nice to meet you, Mrs—”
“Call me Mama G,” she says, shaking my hand. “Davia, huh.” The look she casts in Kross’s direction stirs the suspicion she’s no stranger to my name. “Hm. Come in for lunch.”
“I’d hate to trouble you, Mama G. I’m vegan.”
“It’s no trouble, hon,” she assures me. “I have freshly baked buns with no dairy, barbecue cauliflower bites, and a black-eyed pea salad. Any of that interests you?”
“Those do sound good.”