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“What do you have planned this afternoon?” I asked as Brandon pulled away from the curb.
Her eyes gleamed, bright and lively. “Ike and I are making a rocket.”
I shook my head. “I’m guessing not from a kit.”
She scoffed. “What’s the fun in that?”
“Right.” I squeezed her hand, feeling a flash of sexual frustration for approximately the 10,000th time since she’d returned. “Your big brain turns me on.”
She tilted her head back to look at me. “Good.”
“What?” I asked a few moments later, realizing she was staring up at me, waiting. I must have zoned out.
She bit her lip. “I asked if you wanted kids.”
I could feel the wall flying up around me. “No way.” My response was vehement.
Her face fell. She shifted her body, creating space where there hadn’t been any before. I missed her soft curves.
“That’s why I got cats,” I offered, trying to smile, to soften what had clearly been a blow.
She looked out the window. “Sure.”
“Aya—”
We eased to a stop, and I realized we were in front of Mama Grace’s stately white house. Aya hopped out without so much as a goodbye.
Brandon caught my gaze in the rearview mirror. “You weren’t listening to her. Before.”
“How’d you know?”
“Because she was talking about her kids. How much she wanted them.”
I dropped my head into my hands. “Ah, fuck.”
Unfortunately, I couldn’t stay to talk to her about it because I had a band meeting I was already going to be late for.
19
Aya
Nash’s complete disinterest in children had left me raw enough that Mama Grace shot me worried glances as I entered her kitchen. After a moment, she plunked a large glass of iced tea in front of me, and I gulped it down.
“Ike, honey, why don’t you go grab that book and the tools you brought?” Mama said.
When he trotted from the room, she placed her hand over mine. “What happened? Is your father causing you that much distress?”
“What? No. Actually, I’d forgotten about my father.”
She leaned back, meeting my gaze. “Nash, then.”
Tears filled my eyes as I bowed my head. “He doesn’t want kids.”
“Ah.” Mama Grace rubbed her work-roughened palm over my forearm. The gesture soothed me.
I licked my lips. “This… I’ve always wanted children. Being an only child was hard. I mean, I have half-sisters, but they’re more than a decade younger than me. And with my mother gone… I’ve always had this need to surround myself with family.”
“Because it’s a hole in you,” Mama said, her gaze soft with understanding.
