Page 112 of Omar

Shanay nodded and went to the counter. She pulled bread from the cupboard, found the toaster, put two slices in. "You want toast?"

"Portia already fed me, Shanay."

"Toast is different." She leaned against the counter while the toaster worked. "Toast is a conversation. Sit."

I sat. Shanay made toast for both of us, buttered it, cut it in halves, and put the plate between us on the counter. We stood there eating toast in Portia's kitchen and for a minute nobody talked about Supreme or TK or operations or shell companies.

"Those Baptiste men are a lot," Shanay said, biting into her toast.

I laughed. It came out rough but it was real. "Yeah. They are."

"But they show up." Shanay looked at me. "Every time. Whatever it is, however bad it gets, they show up." She took another bite. "Just so you know."

"I'm starting to figure that out."

"Good." She finished her toast, brushed the crumbs off her fingers, and reached for her water. She drank it slowly, one hand resting on her stomach. Something about the gesture made me look twice. She caught me looking and moved her hand away.

"Shanay."

"Hmm?"

"Are you...?"

"Eat your toast, Asha." But she was smiling. A small, private smile that said everything without saying a word.

I ate my toast. Shanay ate hers. Ma moved through the kitchen behind us, wiping down the counter without saying a word.

Supreme was dead. TK was running. My father had come and gone without the forgiveness he'd been looking for. Omar was out there doing whatever he needed to do to keep us safe.

And Shanay had her hand on her stomach when she thought nobody was looking.

The world kept turning. Even after everything, it kept turning.

Chapter 45

Omar

Kadeem was at Ma's kitchen table when I got there. Shanay had made coffee and left it on the counter before going upstairs. The house was quiet, still early, before Ma came down.

I poured two cups, set one in front of Kadeem, and sat down across from him. We drank in silence for a while. The kitchen was warm. Sunlight coming through the window over the sink, hitting the counter where Ma kept her spice jars lined up in order.

"You know what you're doing with her?" Kadeem asked without looking up from his coffee.

"Yeah."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, Deem. I'm sure."

He looked at me then. His face was calm, settled. Whatever questions he'd had about Asha, about the operation, about whether his brother's judgment was compromised, he'd answered them for himself somewhere between the Associates meeting and last night.

"Okay," he said. "Then that's settled."

We finished our coffee. He told me Devon was still running down the TK situation, that James was handling the cleanup from the warehouse operation, that the Associates were satisfied with the outcome. Business. The machine kept moving even after the war was won.

"Go be with your girl," Kadeem said when I stood up. "You earned that shit."

"When's the last time you took a day off?"