Page 55 of Crossing Lines

TWENTY

My jaw drops as I enter Mom’s condo, stunned by the plethora of luxury. The modern furniture and décor contrast the second-hand pieces in her last apartment. There’s no way a rich man isn’t involved in the upgrade.

I set the bags on the sleek black sofa and tell her, “The place looks good. Did it come furnished?”

“No, these are all my new stuff,” she brags, scooping the food onto plates.

“Huh.” Pausing at the large window, I take in the city and add, “You have a great view of the harbor.”

“Mmhmm.” She brings the plates to the round dining table and pours wine. “Where’s Jamir?”

“He’s busy.” I sit across from her, still in awe of the luxurious condo. “Thanks for inviting me to dinner.”

“Sure. I haven’t cooked for you in a while.”

“True. Plus, you want the French souvenirs.”

“Well.” She laughs it off and slices her smothered pork. “Who doesn’t?”

I pick up a forkful of curry chickpeas and rice, moaning at the burst of flavors. “This is delicious.”

“Of course it is.” She swallows and drinks a little. “I’m seeing someone.”

My hand stills with the fork. “You are?”

Her eyes sparkle as she goes on. “We’re having fun. He’s wonderful.”

“Who is he?” I hope it isn’t another felon.

She sighs. “Don’t worry, Davia. He’s a successful businessman.”

I look around the condo as it hits me. “Is that how you managed to move into this expensive place and—”

“Don’t kill the mood,” she grits, pursing her lips.

“You know what? It’s none of my business. Hope it works out with him however way you want.”

“Thank you.” She sips more wine as her expression softens again.

I use the chance to speak what’s on my heart. “Um, I want to spend more time with you.”

“We both work. What little time I have on the weekends, I like to relax with my new friend.”

“You can’t make room for me?”

She clicks her tongue. “You haven’t dropped that neediness even though you’re twenty-eight now.”

“Dang, Mom. I’m trying to have a better relationship with you. I want to be closer. Don’t you?”

Reaching across the table, she gives my hand a light touch that lasts a second. “Let’s do something in the week. Bring Jamir along.”

“I’ll let him know.”

She studies me keenly. “Did y’all argue? You have an attitude whenever he comes up.”

“Yes,” I admit, rubbing my neck. “We argued earlier.”

“Men are like toddlers sometimes. They throw tantrums. Go to his place after this and soothe his ego.”

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