Page 20 of Double

“It kind of was, but it’s not anymore.”

“It suits you.”

He shook his head emphatically. “It never suited me.”

I nodded with conviction. “It suits you.”

At the house, Double dismantled the alarm with what I figured was a scan of his hand against a reader, unlocked the door, and then allowed me to step inside. Once we were inside, he took my hand in his and led me into the kitchen.

“Have a seat.”

I took a seat at the island while he rummaged around in one of the drawers, finally pulling out two boxes. He slid one across the countertop to me.

“I forgot to give that to you yesterday. It’s a new phone.” He shrugged his shoulders. “It’s already programmed with a few numbers. Mine. Lynne’s. Lyric’s. And my mom’s.” He held up his hand as I started to speak. “I know you haven’t met her yet, but you will . . . tomorrow. She’s throwing a fit about us coming through for dinner, so I told her we would.”

I nodded, even though a nervous pit formed in my stomach at the thought of meeting his parents. I reminded myself that it was inevitable. I would have to meet them at some point. I just hoped they weren’t cold and unwelcoming like my family.

“And this,” he said as he slid an old-school-looking phone toward me, “is a burner phone. You can use it to call your girl, providing you know her number.”

I didn’t know it by heart. Instead, I called our business number, but she didn’t answer, and I didn’t leave a message. I cupped the burner phone in my hand. “She didn’t answer. I’m going to bed.” My emotions were all over the place, which left me feeling exhausted.

He took my hand in his again, and I couldn’t help but notice how natural it felt. We walked to the bedroom that I used. The door was closed, so we stood outside it.

“Thank you for accompanying me to dinner, Sweetheart. Your company was a pleasure.”

I liked that about him. I liked the way he code-switched with such ease, and neither his more professional self nor his more urban self seemed forced or awkward. “Thank you. I had a good time, and the food was delicious.”

He kissed the same cheek he’d kissed earlier, and my body basically had the same damn reaction. My heart went haywire, and my brain clouded with fog. He left me standing there, trying to pull myself together but failing.

8

Is It Crazy That I Want Them to Like Her?

Double (Jinx)

I heard the distinctive swish of her slippers against the hardwood flooring before I saw her. When she stepped into the living room, our eyes met before I broke the gaze to let my eyes sweep over her body. She was wearing light jeans with modest rips at the knees. I didn’t give a shit about those rips. I was too focused on the way the material rode her curvy hips and thighs. On top, she wore a pink and white striped collared blouse with a cropped, pink sweater on top of it.

“You look good, but I don’t know about that sweater, Sweetheart.”

Her face fell. “Does it look like I’m trying too hard?”

“Nah, it looks like you’re gonna be hot. My mother routinely keeps her heat on hell. Plus, she’s been cooking for the last few hours. It’s about to be like standin’ on the sun in that motherfucka.” I gestured up and down myself. “That’s why I have on this t-shirt. If I could get away with wearing shorts, I would. Put on a short-sleeved top. You’ll thank me later.”

She was hesitant. “Are you sure? I spent over an hour putting this look together. I even video called Lyric. She likes this look.” She was cute as hell when she pouted.

“Yo, call Lyric back and ask her how hot my mom’s crib be. She’ll tell you. She probably forgot.”

“I’ll just deal with the heat.” She gave a sigh. “I’m from a tropical locale. Maybe I’ll feel at home.”

That made me chuckle. “Okay. Let’s ride out.”

“More Black American slang. Let’s ride out. Does that mean, let’s go?”

“Look at you, picking up the language.” I stood from the sofa, walked over to her, and dropped a kiss on her forehead. “You’re about to be bilingual in a minute.”

I watched her slip into fitted, thigh-high, camel-colored boots that hugged her thighs the way I wanted to. Then I helped her into the matching plaid trench coat she’d selected. I didn’t give a damn what anybody said; my wife had style. She could dress her ass off.

We left the house and climbed into my truck. My parents lived about twenty-five minutes away, and we spent the ride in companionable silence. When we pulled into their driveway, I turned to face her.