Page 8 of Curvy Girl Summer

He eyed me for a moment before shaking his head. “I know.”

Lifting my hands in surrender, I took a step back. “I didn’t say a word.”

“I usually just say, ‘In combat,’ and leave it at that. It becomes a fallen-soldier hero story that way. The moment someone hears the details, they’re tuned out.”

“I’m not tuned out. I’m listening. Maybe a little more closely than before because that was an unexpected twist.”

“That’s dark.” He pointed at me. “I knew I liked you.”

“What’s not to like?” I tilted my head to the side. “Please let your mom know that your babysitter entertained you.”

He groaned. “They did sayentertain,didn’t they?”

With pursed lips, I folded my arms over my chest. “Yep.”

“Well, if it helps, you didn’t just entertain me, you kept it real and shared with me. So, I felt like I should do the same with you.”

“That’s the only reason you told me the truth and didn’t let me think your friend was a war hero or something? Nowthat’sdark,” I scoffed.

He smiled, seemingly amused.

“Do you have a phone number that we can exchange?” he asked boldly.

I gave him a quizzical look.

I wasn’t interested, and I had my reasons.

He was cute, but way too young-looking for me. I was going to be thirty in a couple of months, and he looked like he was just able to buy drinks yesterday. He was forward and courageous, but his timing was off. He asked me how my sister died and then asked me for my number. He was employed, but I didn’t do long-distance relationships or date men in the military. I needed too much time and attention for that. Regardless of all that, his mom was my mom’s close friend. If anything were to go wrong between us, it would undoubtedly affect that relationship.

And if it’s hard to make new friends as a twenty-nine-year-old, I can’t imagine how hard it is to make friends as a sixty-year-old.

“You’re asking me for my number at a memorial party for mysister.” I pointed. “In front of a picture of my sister.” I twisted my face. “Really?”

“You’re right,” he agreed, frowning. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“It was probably all the emotions of us sharing our feelings,” I guessed.

He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah.”

His smile faded as he stared at the picture of Aniyah.

“You want to talk about it?” I asked.

He turned to me. “About what?”

“About him… Keyshawn.”

“There’s not really much to say. He met a woman and thought she was the truth. Asked her for her number on a whim. She gave it to him, and that was that. When he found out she was married, he was already in love with her. So, even though he should’ve stopped seeing her, he didn’t. They got reckless and sloppy, I guess. All I know is that the husband came home and found his Black ass on top of his wife.” Marcus shook his head. “Ended his life right there.”

Wide-eyed, I was uncertain of what to even say to that. “Wow. I’m… I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, me too.”

He was quiet.

We both were.

Staring at Aniyah’s photo, we were in our own little worlds.

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