Page 19 of Double

Thinking about Faylise caused an ache in my heart. “Is there any way we can make sure she’s . . . okay?”

“Yeah. We can do that when we get back to the house.”

“What about my aunt and uncle?”

“Yeah. I’ll have to see if Big Hill has contact info for them.”

I looked at him. “Thank you.”

“You’re good. I get it. You were unceremoniously uprooted from your life. Can’t be easy.”

“It’s hard,” I confessed. “But at the same time, Gretchen had already destroyed my life. You and your grandparents stepped in to help me save what was left of it. Oh,” I said, remembering one of the conversations Lyric and I had. “Lyric told me that if I was more into fashion, she would love to have me as her assistant.”

“Word?”

I smiled. “Black American slang. It means, like, are you serious?” I reminded myself while Double laughed at me. I laughed, too. “Stop teasing me. I’m not American. I’m learning.”

“I know. I know.”

“Yes, word. I told her that I own, or maybe owned—who knows if Faylise has had my name removed from the business? Anyway, I told Lyric that I was an event designer at home. She said I should talk to you because you might know somebody who needs somebody.”

“Yeah.” His tone was thoughtful. “Let me holler at Just. He knows somebody.”

“And Just is your brother, right? The pretty-boy dude? The one who was trying to sell me on you?”

He laughed again.

“I have never been accused of being this funny.”

“You think I’m trying to gas you?”

“I don’t think that’s what you’re trying to do, but then again, I don’t even know what that means.”

“It means to like, blow up your ego, sometimes with lies.”

It was my turn to laugh. “Black American slang is very effective. I liked how you have one word that means an entire phrase.”

“You’re funny,” he assured me. “And very beautiful.”

I blushed.

The waiter returned with our appetizers, catfish sliders and spicy tuna bites.

“I’m off for the rest of this week, and I can take next week off, too. Tell me if you wanna take a honeymoon or if you feel like you need me to stay around the house with you.”

I scooped a few pieces of tuna onto the saucer in front of me, foregoing the catfish.

“You not into catfish?”

I bugged my eyes. “No. Lianna used to make it all the time. I’m not the biggest fan.”

“Noted. Anyway, about the next few days . . .”

“I don’t need a honeymoon.” I popped a tuna bite into my mouth and chewed. It was delicious. “I mean, I don’t even have a ring . . . Jayson. I want to call you Jayson so badly.” I rushed the words from my mouth. “Would it please be all right if I just called you Jayson?”

“It’s not my name, though.”

“It kind of is.”