Page 92 of Before I Let Go

“Wow,” he says, forgoing the chocolate cake to reach for a turnover of his own from the tray. “Does the recipe for this come with the business?”

“Perfect segue,” Ken says. “You’ve seen us on paper and now you’ve met us in person. Seen our operation.”

“Eaten our food,” Merry says with a smile. “Are you interested?”

“You have a great place here.” Josiah sets his fork down on the plate in front of him. “Beautiful space. Great neighborhood. Yasmen and I need to discuss it before we make any solid plans.”

“It’s not just what could happen here,” I tell them. “But making sure expanding won’t compromise what we’re doing in Atlanta.”

“I’ve got all your numbers,” Harvey interjects.

“She doesn’t mean money,” Josiah says. “We’ll need to oversee this expansion. We’re in a boom, too, and it demands a lot of us. We don’t want to spread ourselves thin.”

“Our kids come first,” I say. “We need to make sure we won’t be cheating them, missing things we should be there for if we take this expansion on.”

“We respect that.” Merry twines her fingers with Ken’s on the table. “How old are they again?”

“Deja’s thirteen,” Josiah says.

“And Kassim’s ten,” I add.

“We were in the thick of building this when our twins were young,” Ken says, exchanging a rueful smile with Merry. “We missed a lot.”

“And we paid dearly for it.” Merry sighs, her perennially cheerful expression darkening some. “Thank goodness we realized they were getting off course before it got too bad.”

“So you weigh the pros and cons, keeping them first,” Ken says. “And let us know, but don’t take too long. We’d love knowing this place we put so much into is in great hands when we leave. You seem like exactly the kind of people we’d want to see here, but either way we’ll be putting this place on the market come the new year.”

“And as soon as that happens”—Merry snaps her fingers—“it’ll be gone.”

We finish dessert and walk the property, touring it in more detail than when we passed through the dining room to the table. In the back, there’s a large room with bottles of wine and all varieties of liquor lining the walls. Ken grabs one from a high shelf and holds it out to Josiah.

“I wanted to give you this as a token of our appreciation,” Ken says. “The two of you coming up here to view the place, taking time to see what we’re about, means a lot.”

“Wow.” Josiah reads the label on the square bottle, a note of admiration creeping into his voice. “Yamazaki. Nice. Thank you very much.”

I’ve heard Josiah talk about the expensive Japanese whiskey, but haven’t actually tasted it myself. We end the tour in a small courtyard where, when it’s warm, diners can eat at wrought-iron tables. It’s exactly the kind of thing I could see us doing for our customers. This is a great spot, and a second Grits would thrive here. I recognize the gleam in Josiah’s eyes. It was there when we first started in Atlanta. The man loves a challenge.

“It was so nice meeting you,” Merry says, leaning forward to give me a peck on the cheek while we wait for the Uber. I move to pull away, but she squeezes my arm gently, bringing me closer.

“It’s not too late,” she whispers in my ear.

I lean back to peer at her face. She subtly tips her head toward Josiah and Ken saying their goodbyes just ahead of us.

“I don’t…” I glance at Josiah, too, my heart skipping traitorous beats at how handsome he looks, a broad smile creasing his lean cheeks. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Merry releases a sly, low laugh. “I watched the two of you all through lunch stealing glances at each other when you thought no one was looking. Maybe a second chance?”

My eyes stray to Josiah’s wide shoulders, the powerful lines of his back beneath the impeccably tailored jacket, the striking profile and flash of white teeth in a panty-melting smile.

“I was no walk in the park, Merry.”

“Who wants to walk in the park? I think that man would run wild with you.”

Her words settle between us on the cool air, and I don’t know what to make of them. Don’t know if there’s any truth to what she says, or that I’d be willing to risk my pride to find out.

Do you want him back?

Mama’s question sifts through my thoughts, disturbing and titillating. How much longer can I ignore the attraction simmering between us? Now that he’s no longer with Vashti, should I press? See if he’d even be interested in…what? I demanded a divorce, and now that my libido wants to come out and play, I wantwhatwith him?

---