Page 36 of Betrothed To Love

“Agreed. Just after the dinner. I’m open after that,” I reiterate.

“I got it. And what about our conversation this morning?”

“Our living situation,” I say, then sigh. “I’m going to figure that out. It’s complicated. He has a little girl. We have very separate lives and⁠—”

“Live in separate districts,” Duke interrupts, repeating his same concern from this morning’s call.

“I know. Fifty-one percent residence in Crescent Fall is needed. I remember.”

“That should be easy. Y’all live seven months here and five months there. Just make it work and have it solidified before the debate. Richardson’s going to harp on that at any debate.”

“I…know,” I exclaim.

“Then I’ll leave that to you,” Duke says, then stands. After gathering his things, he says, “I’ll send the list tonight. We’ve got work to do.”

And a living situation to figure out.

TWELVE

“Daddy, everybody here?” Niya says as I pull into the one empty spot I see in the parking lot.

“Looks like it,” I agree, because for a Monday night, it’s packed.

My little four-year-old has a mature palate. Thanks to Shuga, she tries and eats what many little girls won’t even try. A normal kid’s meal hardly ever makes her happy. Seafood is her favorite and she loves a seafood boil in a bag.

“I hope they got my legs,” she says as she tries to unbuckle the belt on her booster.

“I’m sure they do, baby girl,” I assure her. Once I kill my engine, I reach into the back seat and unbuckle her. “Hold on. Let me get the door,” I tell her and get out.

The Seafood Spot is Niya’s favorite restaurant and she loves snow crab legs. They serve seafood prepared in every known way but their specialty is the seafood boil bags. Finding the right words to explain to my heartbeat about Mireya is going to be hard. Doing it while she enjoys her legs will help.

After getting Niya out of her seat and placing her feet on the ground, I grab her mini book bag and we walk into the busy restaurant. As crowded as it is, we don’t have to wait to be seated. A booth on the raised platform on the side of the restaurant is available. Niya slides in first and I get in next to her. When she gets up on her knees to reach the table, I flag a server over and request a booster seat.

“I can stand up, Daddy,” Niya protests as soon as I place the booster on the seat.

“Not and eat, baby. The seat is better,” I tell her and she pouts slightly but eases back on the seat. When I push it closer to the table and open the folded coloring sheet cradling three crayons, her pout disappears.

“See, that’s better,” I say and she nods while starting to color. Our server returns to take our drink order, so I turn to Niya. “What do you want to drink? Some lemonade?” I ask although I already know her answer.

“No. I want water,” she says, getting her favorite drink. Niya drinks water all the time, milk sometimes, and juice almost never.

“Two waters, one with lemon but no ice,” I tell the server.

“Would you like to go ahead and put in your food order?” he asks.

“Yeah,” I answer because we get the same thing every time. “Boil pot number two, mild, light garlic, and deshelled and the fried catfish basket with dirty rice instead of fries. Oh, and two melted butters.”

“Deshelled? The snow crabs and the shrimp?” he asks incredulously. “I think we have to charge extra-extra for that.”

“You do and I’m straight with the charge. I need it all deshelled,” I tell him because I’m well aware of the fifteen-dollar upcharge for deshelling. It’s convenient as hell for Niya and even for me. “I’m also going to need hot sauce for the fish,” I say, then hand him the two small menus from the table. “Thanks.”

“I’ll bring your waters right out,” he says before walking off.

“They got my legs?” Niya asks when he leaves.

“Yes, they have them. You must be hungry.”

“I am,” she exclaims. Although she typically has something for breakfast on the way to school and lunch at school, Niya is usually starving after school.