“Same difference,” she muttered, before adding louder, “Anyway, we’re fine. But your sister’s dating again.”
I leaned back in the chair, grinning. “Oh really?”
“Boy, don’t you lie to me. I can hear your face doing that thing.”
That made me laugh. “What thing?”
“Thatthing—the one where you try to sound innocent, but your whole face is lying out loud.”
She wasn’t wrong. Camille had already texted me a week ago. Sent a picture of the guy and everything. He looked decent. Not that I said that out loud.
“Has she brought him around yet?” I asked.
“Last night. He’s tall. Really polite. A vegetarian, though.” Her tone made it sound like he’d confessed to grand larceny.
Dad piped up again from somewhere farther away: “Tell her to keep this one longer than a houseplant.”
I snorted. “You’re terrible.”
“I’m practical,” he replied. “That girl can’t keep a succulent alive.”
Mom sighed, half-exasperated, half-affectionate. “Ignore him. You know how he gets.”
My hand curled around the phone tighter, warmth blooming in my chest. It always surprised me how much I missed this—hearing my parents bicker, hearing thembe.
Then Mom’s tone shifted enough to feel the weight under the words. “So... are you seeing anyone?”
I hesitated. I wanted to tell her. But… I didn’t knowwhatto tell her.
“I’ve met someone interesting.”
Quiet on the other end. Not heavy. Just... tuned in.
“Oh?” she said, soft and careful. “Interesting good, or interesting you’re-not-sure-yet?”
“Good,” I said, and that part came easy. “It’s just... new.”
Still no judgment. Just another beat of thoughtful silence.
“Well,” she said eventually, “when you’re ready to bring her around, we’re here.”
My breath caught a little.
“And how’s the guy helping out at the clinic?”
I blinked at the ceiling. “Gideon?”
“If that’s his name. You mentioned him once. Said he was competent.”
“Still is.”
A pause. “And how areyou?”
I huffed a laugh. “I’m fine, Ma.”
“There’s a little more sunshine in your voice than usual. It’s throwing off my rhythm.”
I grinned. “Must be a glitch in the system.”