Page 315 of When a Soul Cries

Good.

I pointed at her. “And don't you tell Roman this conversation.”

“I won't.”

“I mean it. That's my story to tell my son when I'm ready.”

Sol nodded. “I promise.”

I stood and looked her over again.

“Now look at you.”

Sol wiped carefully beneath her eyes. “You really think I look okay?”

I stared at her.

“Girl, if my son don't cry when he sees you, I'm slapping the shit out of him.”

She burst out laughing.

There she was.

I kissed her forehead. “You ready?”

Sol took a deep breath. “I think so.”

“Nope.”

She looked at me.

“You either ready or you ain't.”

Another breath.

This time she smiled.

“I'm ready.”

“That's what I thought.”

I left her with A’Zaria a few minutes later and went hunting for my son.

I found Roman standing near the other side of the bungalow looking like a man who was trying very hard not to lose his shit.

The second he saw me, he stood straighter.

“Ma.”

I walked right up and slapped his arm.

“Ow! What the hell?”

“You couldn't give your mama twenty-four hours?”

He rubbed his arm. “Ma—”

“A week? Three days? Hell, twelve hours?”