Page 61 of Before I Let Go

I prop the phone against the mirror on the bathroom counter and back up, twirling to give them the 360.

“Damn, girl!” Hendrix booms. “What you trying to do? Make the man fall in love on the first date?”

“You look fantastic, Yas.” Soledad fans her face. “Hot.”

“You think so?” I chew my bottom lip. “I haven’t been on a date in forever and I just don’t know. Is it too much? Not enough?”

“It’s just right,” Hendrix assures. “And your hair sets it all off. You did that?”

“Deja.” I pat the curls. “You like?”

“It looks great,” Hendrix says. “I’m telling ya. Kid influencers are blowing up. She might be onto something with that hair thing.”

“Whatever.” I roll my eyes. “She needs to be onto those grades. I’m more interested in her midterms than how many followers she has.”

“I hear that.” Hendrix shrugs. “Just saying she does have real talent and she’s great on the socials.”

“Okay. Okay.” I walk back to the counter and sit. “We’ll talk about it later.”

“Yes, later,” Soledad says. “Tonight is all about you and Mark. Are you nervous?”

“Not really.” I meet two sets of disbelieving eyes on-screen. “Okay. A little.”

“You’ll be fine,” Hendrix says.

“Thanks, guys,” I tell them. “Lemme bounce, but I’ll let you know how everything goes.”

When the doorbell rings, I gulp a huge breath into my air-starved lungs. I force myself to walk down the stairs serenely and to the foyer, pinning a bright smile on my face and opening the door.

Josiah stands on the front porch, broad and towering, the light carving shadows under his high cheekbones. Damn my ex for being this fine when I’m about to go on my first non-husband date in a decade and a half.

“Si, hey.” I turn back into the foyer. “Thought you were Mark. You’re early.”

“Between Anthony and Vashti, everything is under control at Grits tonight.” He walks in, Otis at his heels, and closes the door behind him, holding up a take-out container. “Plus, Deja texted asking me to bring her dinner.”

“Leftover lasagna was good enough for Kassim, but obviously can’t hold a candle to Vashti’s ribs.”

“Fried chicken,” Josiah corrects with a faint smile. “You look…”

His eyes take their time assessing the studded pins in my curls, traversing the vibrant pantsuit molding my curves, and the glittering shoes I forced my feet into.

“Nice.” He glances away, a line sketched between his brows.

“Thank you,” I say, my tone wry. “No chance I’ll get a big head from your effusive compliments.”

“I’ll leave that to your date.” He walks to the bottom of the stairs and yells up, “Day, your food’s here.”

She barrels down to him, her face lit up like Santa just slid from the chimney.

“Dad!” Dejah rises onto her tiptoes to kiss his cheek and takes the food from him.

I can’t remember the last time she greeted me like that. I know we’re going through a phase, but there is a small part of me that covets the ease Deja and Josiah still share. Something soft and warm brushes my hand, and I glance down to find Otis sitting at my feet, nuzzling his sleek head into my palm.

“Hey, old friend.” I scratch behind his ears, leaning down to whisper. “You’re always glad to see me, huh?”

I’ve caught Josiah talking to Otis before. I’ve even teased him about it, but looking at the steady dark eyes of our dog, I can’t blame him for thinking Otis understands every word, because he makes me feel more seen than I have all day.

“You are something else,” I tell him with a chuckle.

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