When life rewrites the story, only friendship will see them through.
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About the Book
But before they can cut the ribbon, their worlds are upended.
Toni receives devastating news just months before her wedding, while Celeste’s struggling marriage threatens to collapse completely. Leslie learns a shocking secret about her family, and a lotto ticket changes Yasmeen’s life—but not for the better.
As the bookstore’s grand opening fast approaches, the four women must lean on each other now more than ever to navigate their grief and uncertainty. And together, they’ll learn that sometimes, even life’s most unexpected plot twists can lead to beautiful new beginnings.
Chapter 1
Celeste
January 2
“This is going to be the best year of our lives,” Celeste Coleman said with forced cheeriness, tucking her long legs under her dining table. She lifted her coffee cup toward the other three women seated in her spacious eat-in kitchen.
Leslie and Toni propped their elbows on the table and held up their iced lattes.
Yasmeen was the last to raise her cup of peppermint tea. “I sure hope so.” Her foot rapped on the natural hardwood floors. She was convinced coffee wasn’t good for her skin, though Celeste had repeatedly told her it was rich in antioxidants. But Yasmeen’s dark skin was smooth, flawless, so Celeste stopped arguing and let her drink her tea.
It was Tuesday, a few minutes after 9:00 a.m. on the second day of the new year, and her friends had gathered in her home in Dover, Delaware, with two purposes in mind: to talk about their first read of the year, Just the Nicest Couple, and then plan the grand opening of their bookstore. The closest major bookstores were an hour away, and the friends believed they had a solid chance at launching a successful business selling what had bound their sisterhood for years: books. No matter what was going on in their lives, books were their therapy, their escapism, their companions—and pretty soon, they would share that love with other young girls. Celeste could hardly wait.
They had to decide on a name, their brand and a location.
The women tapped their cups gently.
Seeing Yasmeen’s slumped shoulders, Celeste’s heart squeezed. Yasmeen had been working two jobs at two nursing homes and had lost one of them just before the end of December. Now she was sleeping on her parents’ couch in their one-bedroom apartment. She eyed Yasmeen’s jeans, sweater and black kitten pumps from two seasons ago and kept her face devoid of any pity.
“It will be amazing. How can it not be? Four friends with off-the-chart skills starting a bookstore together can only be amazing,” Leslie chimed in, her green eyes sparkling. She patted her sleek blond bob out of habit, because not a single strand of hair was out of place. She wore a blue-and-red sweater set with black slacks—no-nonsense clothes for a no-nonsense, plus-size woman. Celeste was taken back to the first time she had met Leslie—a white woman attending a HBCU, who showed up to pledge in her sorority. The other sorority sisters had balked, tried to freeze her out, but Leslie had spunk, so Celeste had welcomed her to the sisterhood.
The fourth woman at the table rolled her eyes. “Yes, as long as we each play our parts—no slacking—everything will be alright,” Toni said, flashing her five-carat engagement ring and giving Yasmeen a pointed glance. Mirroring her icon, Tracee Ellis Ross, Toni had donned a Galvan sunshine-yellow dress with matching Louboutin heels. After leaving her advertising executive job to become a social media and book influencer, Toni had garnered hundreds of thousands of followers, who tracked her every move. Her bank account made her more than happy to share her life and her love of books with the world.
Celeste couldn’t understand the phenomenon that was vlogging, but Toni had doubled her six-figure salary by just sharing moments of her personal life and her book recommendations with her fans. Her success was why Toni would be their publicity manager to take their store nationwide. She was eager to hear Toni’s ideas.
Of course, Yasmeen wasn’t about to let that jab slide. “What’s that supposed to mean?” She popped gum in her mouth and pinned Toni with a glare. “I’m bringing my knowledge of books. I have been an avid reader for years and I have actually worked in a library, been around books. Granted, it was in high school and only lasted a few months but still…” She cleared her throat and sipped her tea. “It takes skill to keep on top of what’s trending in the book world. I know what’s hot right now and I know how to organize our bookstore. I might not have a degree, but I do bring something to the table.”
Celeste smiled. It was for that reason that Yasmeen would decide what books they needed to purchase for their main target audience: minorities and other underrepresented communities.
“Why did you make the assumption that I was talking to you?” Toni asked, drinking her coffee and peering over the mug.
Celeste could see the mischief in Toni’s eyes. She raised her brows, giving Toni a silent warning, but Toni batted her mink eyelash extensions, toyed with a section of her midlength chocolate locks, and ignored her.
“Because I know you.” Yasmeen’s head snapped back and forth, her thick, natural curls swaying with each movement. “You’ve been shading me every chance you get since you showed up.” They engaged in what felt like the thousandth stare down since the three women graduated high school together. First it had been just Celeste and Yasmeen, then when Toni came to town the last semester of high school, they had become inseparable, but Toni and Yasmeen had always butted heads.
Yasmeen was way too sensitive when it came to her lack of education—which admittedly tried Celeste’s patience—and Toni knew that.
“Ladies—notice I said ladies, not girls—let’s refocus,” Leslie said in a singsong voice, her Philadelphia accent strong.
Celeste smoothed her off-white pants suit, tugged on her pumpkin-colored tank and tapped her matching Blahniks. Often the peacekeeper—unless she was the one bickering with Yasmeen over their differing opinions on each other’s relationships—she knew from experience their meeting could go sideways if she didn’t jump in. Something she had never hesitated to do, until…
No. It was best not to think about that.
Keeping a calm voice, Celeste ignored her hammering heart and addressed the group. “Listen, it’s a new year. A chance for new beginnings for all of us. We need to be in solidarity if this venture is going to work. Wade has already predicted we’re going to fail because, and I’m quoting him, ‘we’re too catty to work together,’ so I for one need to prove him wrong.”
She pressed her thighs together to keep from squirming. Her hand was shaking and threatening to spill the contents of her mug, so Celeste placed the cup on the mat. Glancing around, she was relieved to see her friends hadn’t noticed. Bringing up her husband of fourteen years made her think about their marriage and the nonexistent intimacy between them over the past few months. That hadn’t been the case when she had gotten married at twenty years old, her third year of college. They had been…insatiable. Inseparable. Now it was like he couldn’t stand the sight of her. He didn’t say it, but his eyes didn’t lie. Oh, he wanted her. Very much. He just couldn’t stand her weakness.
She shook her head, blinking back tears as she scanned each woman at the table before looking out the sliding door that led to her backyard. If it weren’t for her friends, she wouldn’t have made it to another new year.
“What does he know?” Yasmeen said, giving Toni a light shove. “We bicker but the love is real. You mess with one of my girls, you mess with me.” She and Toni high-fived.
Pointing to the folders on each of their woven table mats, Leslie said, “Can we get back to the plans? We need to agree on the name and set the launch date.”
When Leslie had approached the four friends with the idea of going into business together the year before, Yasmeen had been enthusiastic but Celeste and Toni had declined. Celeste held a lucrative position as chief financial officer at a healthcare administration center, where she oversaw the financial management and expansion of several facilities. But then the carjacking happened. And her life changed. Her marriage changed. Her love for the job changed.
Then Leslie brought up the bookstore again. They’d flourished during the pandemic, and with streaming services making movies out of books, Celeste had reconsidered and so had Toni. It felt like it could be fun, something new and a risk worth taking. Celeste was not one for risks after almost losing her life, but she needed a fresh start. She planned to devote as much time as she could to getting the bookstore on solid footing. Shaking off the memory of the attack with a toss of her shoulder-length auburn bob, she reminded herself to take long, deep breaths. Remain calm. She was safe. Among friends.
Toni opened her folder. “Being the overachiever that I am, I prepared a slideshow to present my ideas on how to get us to another level, start some buzz, and I’m stoked for you all to see it.”
The women gestured for Toni to go ahead. Celeste wanted to say they should talk about the name or the finances first, but she didn’t want to dash her friend’s exuberance. Toni dipped into her large tote and retrieved her iPad mini.
“You sound like a woodpecker,” Yasmeen said, referring to Toni’s pointed nails clicking on the screen. It was a mystery how she could operate her smart devices with them, but Toni was a pro.
Celeste bit back a chuckle. She knew Yasmeen was in payback mode. She was probably still low-key upset with Toni’s barb from a few minutes ago. Thankfully, Toni didn’t retaliate. With a swoop of her arm, she turned the screen and they huddled to take a look.
“That’s you in your wedding dress,” Leslie said, scrunching her nose. “Didn’t I choose this one?” The friends had ventured with Toni to several bridal stores across several states. Toni had yet to ring the bell for the right one.
“Oh, my bad.” She squinted. “I think this was your choice but I haven’t decided.” She tapped her screen again and pulled up a PowerPoint, her light brown eyes sparkling. “I’ve been researching some bookstore websites and I’m excited about forming a larger in-person book club.” Before anyone could respond, she tilted her head. “By the way, Yasmeen, I would be honored if you’d design a one-of-a-kind bouquet ensemble for my big day.”
Outsiders might have found the shift odd, but toggling between conversational topics had always been part of their flow. At Toni’s sincere tone, the four women joined hands in the center of the table. It wasn’t often Toni got emotional.
“Aw, I would love to.” Yasmeen’s voice caught and she lowered her head. In one of her many gigs, Yasmeen had worked at a florist shop and had been really good at it, even though it wasn’t her passion. But she viewed them as great gifts, so each of the women had hand-crafted arrangements in their homes. “Do you have a date yet?”
“Actually, since Kent and I have a small circle of friends and family, we planned on doing something small. But then I thought about my fans, and the bookstore, and…” She paused and gave them each a look.
“You are not live on social media,” Celeste said. “Spit it out.”
“I thought we could get married at the bookstore. It would be a launch and a wedding,” she squealed, shaking her shoulders.
“Oh wow. What a great idea,” Yasmeen said. “That’s thousands of people tuning in to watch you get married, while putting our bookstore on the map.”
Toni bobbed her head. “Yes, plus instead of sending us gifts, I would ask them to buy books instead. You know any of the ones I recommend on my streams end up hitting the bestseller lists, which gives me even more followers. So this would be a win-win for all of us.” She cheered. “It was Kent’s idea, actually.”
“Kent?” Celeste gasped. “Sheer genius.”
“Yes, that man has been good for me in so many ways.”
“That is beyond dope,” Yasmeen said. “Cha-ching.”
Celeste chuckled and rolled her eyes.
“I’m so happy for you,” Leslie breathed out. “That man is so sprung I think if you asked him to jump off Niagara Falls, he would. He’d do anything for you.”
That was no exaggeration. From the moment Kent Hughes met Toni, he had been smitten. Celeste had witnessed the astute, sharp corporate attorney reduced to a gushing schoolboy because her friend batted her lashes.
“You’re his arm candy,” Celeste teased and Toni’s smile wavered for a fleeting second. Celeste’s brows furrowed. Was Toni offended by her choice of words? But Toni tossed her hair and struck a pose. Maybe she had imagined it…
“I’m envious of your well-shaped arms, Toni,” Leslie said, touching her own “mommy’s paunch,” as she dubbed her rounded belly—a remnant of her pregnancy and C-section twelve years prior. And sweets. Mostly sweets.
“Thank you. If you’re going to be fluff, you might as well be fit fluff,” Toni said, lifting both arms to show off her muscles.
Though she laughed, a sadness showed in Toni’s eyes, like she wanted to be…more. But then, one couldn’t take Toni seriously because she was such a hoot.
“I love the idea of a book club at the bookstore as well,” Celeste said, returning the conversation to business. “It’s brilliant, so thank you.” She looked at Leslie. “Since we’re each investing fifteen thousand dollars, we can put some funds into advertising and creating a buzz for our big day. I’ll also look into investing a portion into some stocks that will give us a quick turnaround.” Celeste was an expert at all things money.
Too bad she couldn’t say the same of her marriage.
Ugh. Think of something else, Celeste.
Yasmeen’s chin tucked into her chest. Celeste knew it was because her friend was self-conscious about not being able to contribute. Instead, Toni, Leslie and Celeste each had donated equal amounts toward her portion. Of course, Yasmeen had vowed to pay them back.
Leslie filled the silence. “I’ve already begun scouting for a location. I’ll let you guys know when I have a few suitable places for us to check out, and I’ll get us incorporated.”
Yasmeen lifted a hand. “I wanted to bring up the idea of us making this a bookstore-café combination.”
“I think we should focus on one thing before another,” Leslie countered, her tone firm.
“I like the idea of a café, but I’d have to do some research on that.” Toni made some quick notes. “My mind went to possible bug-and-rodent infestation.”
Yasmeen rolled her eyes. “I love being able to enjoy tea or cookies while I read.”
They all pinned their eyes on Celeste, waiting for her input. She tensed, resisting the urge to cringe into her seat. She counted to three before siding with Yasmeen. “It could be a great investment. I actually ran the numbers on bookstores with cafés and they’ve showed profit.”
“And don’t forget I was a barista.”
“Yeah, I think that was job number ten?” Toni chuckled. Then she gasped and snapped her fingers. “Maybe you could come up with a special blend. Something that makes our store stand apart. I could get behind that.”
“Ooh.” Yasmeen nodded. “I like that idea, but since I don’t drink coffee, I might do a tea blend or a refresher.”
“I’m feeling that,” Toni said, giving Yasmeen’s arm a squeeze.
Celeste nodded. “Alright. I guess we’re doing a bookstore-slash-café. We just need a name…”
“I think I might have a solution for that.” Toni clicked on her PowerPoint. “How about…Four Besties Books?” She bit her lower lip and gave them an expectant look.
Yasmeen held up a finger. “And beverages.”
Leslie’s mouth popped open and her eyes went bright. She mouthed the words several times before she squealed. “That’s it. That’s it. Besties, Books and Bevs.”
“It’s perfect.” Celeste breathed out and thumbed away a tear. This was really happening. “I think we have a name, guys.”
“You know what’s cool? The fact that we will have a Black-owned bookstore in our city,” Toni said.
Leslie pointed to her chest. “Um, white woman here.”
“Well, seventy-five percent of us are Black, so that makes it Black-owned,” Celeste said. “I did my research. And besides, you invited to the cookout, so make sure you bring your mac and cheese, because it’s off the charts.”
“You know it’s good too.” Leslie cackled.
They clinked their cups again, toasting to Besties, Books and Bevs.
“Good. Now that all that’s settled, can we choose our book for February?” Yasmeen asked.
“You just picked the book, Yas,” Celeste warned. “And you did in October and November. Someone else needs a chance. Let’s hear everyone’s book pitches.”
She pouted. “I have a really good one. Just hear me out. American Queen is—”
“Nope.” Toni raised a hand. “Save it. Don’t want to hear it. It’s my turn and I say we finally read Walking in My Joy: In These Streets.”
“Whatever. You only want to read it because it’s written by a celebrity,” Yasmeen griped.
“And?” Toni rolled her eyes. “Jenifer Lewis is a legend. Plus, she has style.”
“Actually, it’s my turn,” Leslie said. “Don’t you remember you chose the book in December? I think we should read I Will Never Leave You, by a new author, Kara A. Kennedy.”
Celeste rolled her eyes. “We just read a thriller though. How about Rochelle Weinstein? We didn't read When We Let Go last year. Or, we could choose another Marie Benedict book? She’s all about empowering and uplifting extraordinary women.”
“I agree,” Leslie said. “Marie’s books make great company at night when Aaron is off working and Nadya is in bed.”
“I guess if that floats your boat,” Toni joked.
Celeste gave her a playful shove. “You enjoyed her. Admit it. Plus you guys couldn’t stop raving about The First Ladies last year. Remember that? The one she wrote with Victoria Christopher Murray?”
“Oh yeah, didn’t they coauthor another book together?”
“Yes, The Personal Librarian,” Yasmeen chimed in. “The audiobook is amazing.”
This was how it was when they talked about books. The discussion could go on for hours. Toni continued, “My other book choices are Michelle Obama’s, Becoming, or Cicely Tyson’s Just as I Am, since it’s Black History Month.”
“I’ve read those already,” Yasmeen said.
“Read it again,” Celeste countered with a sigh. “You read almost everything we mention.”
“No. No. I got it. I got it.” Yasmeen’s eyes flashed. “I say we read Rhonda McKnight’s Bitter and Sweet. Or…since Valentine’s Day is coming up, we can pick a romance. By a Black author. Like Toni Shiloh’s The Love Script.”
“Ooh, I could get with that.” Toni rubbed her hands. “But FYI, Rhonda’s book won’t be out until June or so.”
“Wait, how about When No One is Watching, by Alyssa Cole? It’s a thriller and she’s a Black author,” Leslie suggested.
“It sounds like we have quite a list for the next few months,” Celeste said. “Why don’t we write them all down and pick one for each month?” The women recorded their choices on slim strips of paper and then plucked the name for February.
“When No One is Watching, it is,” Leslie yelled, doing a dance. They then chose the other books for the rest of the year.
“That took way longer than it needed to, but now that it’s done, I’ll put some plans together for our launch and my wedding,” Toni said, rubbing her hands together. “I think summer is the best time, like mid-July.”
Leslie nodded. “Summer works, but let’s push for late June, before people go off on holidays.”
Yasmeen nodded. “I agree.”
Celeste raised a brow at Toni. “Keep the launch party classy.”
Jangling the pearl bracelet that had been an heirloom from her mom, Leslie looked at her watch. “If there’s nothing else on the agenda, I need to tackle my to-do list if I’m going to get Nadya to her gymnastics class on time later this afternoon.”
“Take it easy on my goddaughter,” Celeste chided with a smile.
Leslie had completed her master’s degree in business management, and she ran her home like she did the multimillion-dollar industries she had dreamt of leading. Under her leadership, Celeste was confident their customer satisfaction would be unequalled. That was one of their goals.
“You mean our goddaughter,” Yasmeen corrected. “I’m pretty sure I was there when she screamed her way into the world.”
“Yes, but I was the only one who stayed in the delivery room,” Celeste said, her lips twitching.
The women began gathering their personal belongings and slipping into their coats.
“Whatever. We’re not going down that rabbit hole with you. I’ve got a doctor’s appointment,” Toni said, stretching.
“Doctor?” Celeste raised a brow.
“Just a routine visit.” Toni shrugged, not quite meeting her eyes.
“Well, I’ve got to fill out some job applications. Hopefully, somebody will call me,” Yasmeen said, touching her beautiful natural mane. At her depressed tone, Celeste gave Yasmeen’s hand a squeeze.
“So that’s it for now.” Celeste stood. “I have a facial and hair appointment here at the house so I can be ready for this work event Wade insists I attend.” Her stomach knotted at the thought of going out at night.
“Will you be okay?” Leslie asked, rubbing Celeste’s arm.
All Celeste could do was nod and swallow her fear. Or to use Wade’s words, her irrational fear.
The women hugged each other. Yasmeen wiggled her hips. “I’m real excited about this bookshop.”
“I am too,” Celeste answered, her heart light. “In a few months, we’re going to have a classy event to remember.”
“You best believe it.” Toni snapped her fingers. “People will be talking about our bookstore launch for months to come. No, make that years.”
“As long as our launch is smooth and well-organized, I’ll be happy,” Leslie added.
Toni pointed to Celeste, “You’ll bring the class.” Then to Yasmeen, “You’ll add the creativity.” And to Leslie, “You the coordination.” She pointed to herself. “And I’ll bring the crowd.”
Yasmeen gave her a look. “How long did it take you to come up with that?”
They all cracked up.
“I just did. I’m that good,” Toni said, which led to even more laughter among the friends.
Celeste looked at each of her sister friends, her heart overflowing with love. She broke out into a spontaneous jig and her girls joined her, shaking their booties and egging each other on.
“You know,” Celeste said, “there’s a warning that friends shouldn’t go into business together. But I am quite sure we’ll be the exception.”
Chapter 2
Toni
January 2
Antoinette “Toni” Marshall would be the first to declare she had never been in love. Until now. For thirty-four years, she had avoided the L word. Now it blossomed within her like a flower bursting open in the sun. She was so in love that this man had the power to contort her heart like a pretzel. Not that she had voiced that aloud often. In fact, when Kent Hughes had declared his love for her, she had responded with a breathless “Ditto,” like Demi and Patrick from one of her favorite movie classics, Ghost.
Recalling it now as she navigated the U-turn to the gynecologist’s office, she chuckled. Kent had cracked up, too, before giving her a scorching kiss. Two reasons of possibly a hundred, no, make that 1,228, as to why she loved him. His sense of humor and positive attitude.
His optimism was the equalizer of her internalized trust issues.
She pulled into the closest space to the entrance of the building—yes, she was an unapologetic space hog—and opened the door to her Mustang, an engagement gift from Kent. He had insisted on the car even when she told him the five-carat pink diamond—her favorite color—had been enough and she had her own money to spend on grown-up toys.
Slapping on a pair of oversize shades, she exited the car and pulled down her dress, which had ridden up during the twelve-minute ride from Celeste’s house. Usually, she would pull out her selfie stick and post a quick story to Instagram, highlighting her whereabouts, but today’s visit was personal. Humming the timeless tune of “Endless Love,” her intended wedding processional song, she signed in at the reception desk for her ten-thirty appointment and then sat in one of the comfortable chairs, avoiding making eye contact with the other two women in the room. Maybe it hadn’t been such a good idea to wear yellow. Nothing unobtrusive about it.
But back to her thoughts… Thinking about her fiancé was one of her favorite pastimes, right up there with reading. She had also been known to doodle his name like she was a teenager enthralled with her first crush. Once, she had even written Kent’s name inside the front cover of Yasmeen’s book. In her defense, she hadn’t realized what she was doing until she was done. Yasmeen had been hot for days, and Toni had had to buy her a brand-new copy.
Yep. She hummed now. Doodled and hummed. Love made her steps light and gave her strut extra confidence—emphasis on the extra, because you best believe that she had plenty before. It made her hips move with the kind of swagger that comes from the security of knowing she was loved by a trustworthy man. A man who didn’t play games. A man who gave of himself boldly. And without condition. For that man, she had willingly agreed to wait for marriage to consummate their relationship. Kent had been inspired after reading The Wait by DeVon Franklin and Meagan Good. Without the pressure of premarital sex, they devoted their time to getting to know each other and being satisfied with long, sensual kisses and an abundance of hugs.
She could pinch herself, but she wasn’t about to damage her unblemished skin. She had to maintain picture-perfect status as always.
She sent Kent a text with kissing emojis. Within seconds he returned the same. Her honey was quick with it. And dedicated to her. No matter what he was doing or where he was, if he was awake, he responded. Like she was important. Like she mattered. Was it any wonder her heart had tripped with the inelegance of a model wearing ten-inch heels on a slippery runway?
And to think if Yasmeen hadn’t dragged her to speed dating (Toni had gotten ten thousand followers from just posting about it), she would have never met Kent. A moment she’d dubbed “random perfection.”
The physician’s assistant came to the waiting room door, clipboard in hand, and called a name Toni forgot within seconds. One of the women held the sides of her chair and stood belly first in an awkward but adorable way. Toni’s eyes went wide. She hadn’t realized the woman was pregnant. She took in the rounded abdomen from under her lashes and quashed the immediate pang. The flashback. The envy. The what-if…
No. She wouldn’t, couldn’t, go down that path.
Shoving that memory aside, Toni picked up an old edition of Essence magazine with a rapper-turned-actor gracing the cover. She admired how the performer had maintained his physique and youthful looks, before flipping through the pages. Then she tossed the magazine on top of the others, losing interest. She wasn’t one to dwell on an unattainable fantasy. Not when she had a man who made her want to be something she had once vowed never to become.
A mother.
The door creaked open, and she heard her name. Her purse tucked under her arm, she tossed her hair and followed the physician’s assistant to a room that had an ultrasound machine. “Okay, Ms. Marshall, I’m sure you know the drill,” the woman said in a cheery tone, as she pulled the protection paper to cover the exam table, “You can get undressed, just the bottom half, and have a seat on the chair. I grabbed two gowns so you can put one on facing toward your front and the other toward your back—it’s chilly in here. Is your bladder full?”
“Oh yeah. I drank so much water and coffee, I feel like a camel. Although, I suppose if I was a camel, I would be able to hold it, but I am ready to go.” Her voice sounded breathy, a sure sign of her nervousness. Breathe, Toni, breathe.
The other woman chuckled. “You’ll be glad to know that you’re next, so you’ll be able to use the restroom soon. I’ll be back in a few minutes to give you some privacy. The doctor won’t be long.” Placing the hospital gowns on the chair, she vacated the room.
Toni changed into the drab blue-grey gowns, her body shivering, more from nerves than the cool room, before sitting on the table, hating the feel of the crinkly paper. She had come in for her yearly pap smear the week before, but the doctor had ordered a transvaginal ultrasound when Toni stated she’d had irregular periods over the past six months. She stared at the posters of the female anatomy before she retrieved her cell phone to scroll through her social media accounts. She was curious to learn her fans’ reactions to her post that morning.
One in particular made her frown. Someone with the moniker @BLSTFRDAPST posted a comment in all caps.
I KNOW WHAT YOU DID. DON’T LET ME TELL.
Because of her social media presence, Toni was used to all sorts of hecklers. But something about this one caused dread to fall like boulders in her stomach. She’d first seen this username about a month ago when she shared her wedding plans and talked about how she wanted to have a baby right away. Her fans had posted all sorts of encouraging words, except for this @BLSTFRDAPST.
And here they were again. Her palms became sweaty and her heart moved faster than a gamer on a PlayStation release day. She fretted on her lower lip. This could be anyone. Or a certain someone… Her heart thundered. If this was who she thought it was, things could get ugly. He could damage the life she had built, slash her good-girl facade and expose her for the hypocrite she was. The only reason she had become a social influencer and plastered her face on social media was because she didn’t think this person could ever get to her again.
She took a screen shot. Hopefully, her sudden anxiety would be a simple overreaction. Before she could dwell on that eerie comment, the doctor entered the room with his assistant close behind.
They closed the door. Dr. Hadden greeted her, tapped her shoulder and then directed her to lie down. His assistant placed a blanket across her abdomen and the procedure begun. Staring up at the ceiling, Toni gritted her teeth and willed herself to relax. His assistant took picture after picture which made Toni look at the grayed image on the screen.
Suddenly, the physician’s assistant paused and gave the doctor a look. The doctor leaned forward, brows furrowed. He peered at the screen before taking over. Alarm punched her gut. That wasn’t a good sign.
Her heart thumped. “Do you see anything?” she squeaked out.
The doctor gave her a bland smile. “I need to study the pictures a little more. That’s all.”
No. That wasn’t all. She knew it. “What is it?” she asked, her tone insistent and shaky.
“Let me go study the labs and then we’ll talk.” His words were followed with a patronizing pat on her shoulder. Toni wanted to scream that she wasn’t a child and she needed the doctor to tell her what was going on now. But that would make her sound like a child throwing a tantrum. He addressed his assistant. “Once Ms. Marshall’s ready, you can bring her to my office.”
Oh no. Now she knew it wasn’t good. Her body trembled. She crossed her arms, blinking back the tears of fright. She wasn’t a crier, so her over-the-top reaction was surprising. While she used the restroom and dressed, her mind churned over scenarios on what the look on the doctor’s face could mean. Her legs felt wobbly and unbalanced in her heels, and she had to concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other as she followed the assistant to Dr. Hadden’s office.
She took in the deep chocolate armchairs, the solid desk, the bookshelf stuffed with medical books, the soothing water sounds playing in the background, and slipped into the chair across from him.
The doctor didn’t hesitate. “The ultrasound shows that your ovaries have shrunk. That’s a classic indicator of POI. Primary ovarian insufficiency. What this means is that your ovaries aren’t working the way they should to produce enough estrogen or release the eggs every month.” He pointed toward her. “This is why your periods have been irregular.”
Toni drew several deep breaths. “What are you saying?” Her mind hadn’t been able to process past the words “ovaries have shrunk.” She cupped her abdomen with the palm of her hand. “Spell it out for me, Doc, because I can be quite dramatic and I don’t want to be drawing conclusions and making assumptions, like the big C word.”
Leaning forward and clasping his hands, Dr. Hadden rushed to explain. “No, you don’t have cancer. I didn’t see any evidence of it in your lab work—”
She cut him off, released a small laugh and dabbed at her eyes. “Whew. Let me tell you, you had me worried there for a second. So, am I going to have to take estrogen pills? Because I don’t mind telling you since you’re bound by patient-doctor confidentiality I am ready to do whatever’s necessary to have a child. Not right away, though I know I’m probably considered ancient in gestational years. I want to enjoy married life for a bit. But after a year…” Dr. Hadden rubbed his eyes and gave her a grave look. She trailed off… “What is it? What aren’t you telling me?”
“I’m sorry, Ms. Marshall, but…” He paused before uttering four words that crushed her to the core. “You can’t have children.”
Her mouth dropped open. “That can’t be true.” She jumped to her feet and paced the small space. “I’m healthy. I eat right. This is so random.”
As if his assistant had timed it, she opened the door and ducked her head inside. She avoided Toni’s gaze but spoke in a calm, deferential tone. “Dr. Hadden, your next patient is here.” She backed out of the room, closing the door with a final click.
“I’m afraid the images confirmed it. You’re infertile.” His eyes held sympathy, and she spun away from him, hot, furious, disappointed tears rolling down her face. She sniffled and grabbed a tissue from the box strategically placed at the corner of his desk. How many women had received similar devastating news in this very room? How many tears did the walls hold secret? There was no way she was going to accept this. Toni would demand a second opinion.
Because if this were true, it would mean she wouldn’t be able to bless Kent with a child. Kent—the most perfect man, who wanted one thing from her.
It took every ounce of willpower she possessed to walk out of the doctor’s office with composure. She wanted to howl and scream and cry and rage, but she had to pretend. Pretend her heart wasn’t breaking. Pretend those four words hadn’t smashed her dreams of becoming a mother.
Slapping on her shades, Toni strutted outside with a tight grip on her purse and an even tighter smile. She wanted to go home and curl under the covers and hibernate with this pain for days. But she couldn’t.
Going home meant seeing Kent since they were supposed to meet up at her place. But she needed alone time to get her mind right before she saw him. Before she revealed that if he married her, he would never be a father. From the time they became engaged, he’d often talked about having a son like him or a daughter like her. That’s why he had purchased a house with five bedrooms. To fill it with children. To make a family. Kent had even ended a previous relationship because that woman hadn’t wanted kids.
Her case was different. She wanted children. Desperately. She just couldn’t have any. But would that matter, if the result was the same? She still couldn’t make Kent a father.
She sniffled. How she hated the thought of Kent putting on a front and pretending his heart wasn’t breaking, that choosing her hadn’t been yet another big disappointment in his life. Because that was the kind of man he was.
She was a failure. A disappointment. And her parents had already shown her what happened to those who disappoint. They got abandoned.
She couldn’t tell him.
She couldn’t even tell her friends. She wasn’t ready to voice her new truth. Not to herself or anyone else. Besides, why get everyone all riled up and emotional? Why bring them on this emotional roller coaster when it could all be for naught? Maybe this would be a fluke and she would get a better outcome at her second-opinion appointment. It was better she rode this one solo until she knew for sure.
As if on cue, she got a text from Kent.
How did everything go?
On instinct, she started to compose an honest response. They were best friends. They shared everything. Her heart pounded. Her mind pressed her to confess. But fear of losing him stopped her fingers from typing out the truth. Instead, she wrote four different words from the ones she had just heard. Four words that would change the paradigm of their relationship.
Everything is just fine.
Chapter 3
Yasmeen
January 2
“I’ll meet you by the gas station,” Leslie whispered once they had stepped outside Celeste’s home. Then she scuttled toward her vehicle.
Yasmeen nodded before her eyes went wide. Drip. Drop. She could see the nasty gunk falling from her car onto Celeste’s immaculate pavement as she dashed down the driveway.
She knew she should have parked on the curb. But no, she just had to pull into Celeste’s driveway with her old clunker. Yasmeen Adams needed to listen to Yasmeen Adams. Now the newly paved driveway was ruined. She hopped in her car, hunched over her steering wheel and backed up onto the street. Leslie was already in her vehicle and Yasmeen had to follow her. She would call Celeste later and apologize.
That’s all she could do, because her account had a whopping $66.42 to feed herself and her parents over the next two weeks, which was why she had called Leslie for a ride so she could get to the meeting today.
But thank God for caring, intuitive friends. Leslie had told her to drive and offered to fill her tank. Though her friend would do more for her, that’s all Yasmeen would allow. Even now, she was mortified to accept this help but she had to get to work. She couldn’t lose another job. Tears rolled down her cheeks. She wiped her face. Her life was like a dark, slippery pit, and try as she might, she couldn’t get a good leg up to make her way out.
Her muffler made an obscene amount of noise in the otherwise quiet neighborhood, but she had to keep up with Leslie.
Peering through her rearview mirror, Yasmeen saw the people in the car behind her pointing and holding their noses. Her muffler released dark, blotchy puffs of air. The car next to her honked and gestured for her to roll down her passenger window. If she did, she would have to manually pull it back up, so at first she ignored them. But when they pressed her at the stoplight, she complied.
“You need to get that two-bit crap off the road!” the man yelled.
“Yeah, your car is only good for scraps. If that,” his partner bellowed before falling over in laughter.
Biting on her lower lip, Yasmeen resisted the urge to counter with the fact that they both could be related to Squidward from SpongeBob SquarePants, but her training as a certified nursing assistant refused to let her. Service without sass.
Some of her patients disrespected her while she fed or cleaned them, and she had to cater to them with a smile. They saw her as lower, inferior. And it wasn’t just them. Even some of the nurses behaved that way toward her. But Yasmeen didn’t mind. She needed the paycheck and she loved helping people. Besides, as her father would say, “love isn’t love if you only love the lovable.” The real test was loving the unlovable. Personally, she thought Michelle Obama said it best: “When they go low, we go high.”
Keeping her eyes on Leslie, who had stopped at the light ahead of her, she gave them a small wave and proceeded. She shivered from the cold, due to her now-open window and turned up the heat, which she had repaired just before losing her second job. Leslie turned into the local gas station and hopped out. She strutted over to Yasmeen and asked, “How do I open the tank?”
Yasmeen moved to open the door. “I’ll get it.”
Leslie waved her off. “Stay put.” She pressed on the latch, then slid her card in the card reader. Yasmeen watched her friend move with confidence, never once doubting or praying her card wouldn’t get declined. She was sure Leslie must be inhaling the fumes from her exhaust but her friend didn’t say a word. Her heart squeezed. Leslie placed the gas nozzle into the tank. Once it was going, she returned to the window.
Yasmeen put a hand over Leslie’s. “Thank you, again, friend.”
“It’s nothing.”
Not to Yasmeen, it wasn’t. This car was the means for her to remain employed for the next couple weeks.
Leslie switched topics. “I am so excited about this bookstore.” A sharp wind blew some of her hair into her mouth. She sputtered and used her finger to scoop it out before gagging. “Ugh. I tasted gas. I wasn’t thinking or I would’ve used my other hand. Do you have hand sanitizer?”
“Of course.” Yasmeen had bottles in every door. She held one out to Leslie, who poured a generous amount into her palm.
Rubbing her hands together, Leslie continued, “When you get a chance, email me your first book suggestions for the shop’s inventory.” She tilted her head. “I still can’t believe you read ten books over the past three days. I wish you had gotten a degree in library science or something. You could be a librarian now.”
Yasmeen froze and gripped the wheel. The praise flattened her spirit like a boulder on cotton. The familiar ache made her chest tighten.
Leslie gasped and placed a hand over her mouth. “Oh goodness, my love. You’ve got to forgive me. Sometimes I just blabber on and…”
“It’s okay,” she said in a small voice, patting her hair, her throat gripped with regret. She could do so much more if she didn’t struggle with heavy reading and test-taking. A fighter, Yasmeen overcame her reading difficulties through the use of audiobooks. She defiantly used that medium to read, read and read, especially since she had a Libby account from the library. (Did somebody say free books?) But the test-taking was another story. No matter how she tried or what she did, Yasmeen couldn’t pass the NCLEX-PN exam to become a licensed practicing nurse. She had taken the test three times and failed. That had ended her heart’s desire to become a nurse and had been the beginning of her deep-rooted self-disappointment.
Never mind that her father had become disabled, causing him to leave his job as a carpenter before entering into ministry full-time. A fulfilling but low-paying position, as most of the congregants were retired. Yasmeen generally tried to help her parents pay the utilities because his disability payments were just enough to pay the rent, but losing that second job hurt her contributions. Her Jamaican parents never complained because they were grateful for the opportunity to make a better life in America, but she knew she was a big disappointment to them, since she hadn’t become a nurse or a doctor. Instead, she was a community college and tech school dropout on their couch. They never criticized, but she felt their unexpressed pressure to succeed.
The gas pump clicked, sparing Leslie and Yasmeen any further awkward conversation. Leslie went to return the hose to its holster and get her receipt. She tried to apologize again but Yasmeen assured her that she was okay.
Even though she wasn’t.
Leslie dashed off to run more errands. Yasmeen sat by the pump, caught up in the memories of her past pain. It took years for Yasmeen to admit she might have a learning disability. But even though she researched strategies to help herself, she didn’t have the guts to get evaluated. To learn the truth. To see her shortcomings displayed in black-and-white.
Her stomach rumbled, reminding her that she had promised her parents to bring them something to eat from the dollar menu at the drive-through. All they had in the refrigerator was eggs, and that had been their dinner the night before. She started the car and dug in her purse for a fresh piece of gum, only to discover she was all out.
With a huge sigh, she turned off the car and headed into the store. The wind blew her curls in all kinds of directions but she wasn’t worried about it. She hoped the gas station had her Big Red cinnamon gum. As she shuffled inside and ambled toward the candy aisle, her phone rang.
Pookie came up on her screen—the nickname for her on-again, off-again boyfriend, Darryl—and she allowed the call to go to voicemail. She grabbed two packs of gum and made her way to the checkout queue. There were three people ahead of her and each one of them bought a lottery ticket. Apparently, the local lottery was a little over ten million dollars—10.5 million dollars to be exact. Her father’s words echoed in her head: “God disapproves of gambling.” She inched closer and chewed on her bottom lip while she considered. Spending a couple dollars on a lottery ticket would be a major sacrifice. It would mean foregoing her burger and drink at the drive-through.
Her body swayed back and forth, matching the indecisiveness of her mind. For some reason, before he left the store, the man in front of her addressed her. “Take a chance. Buy a ticket. You never know.” He held up his own ticket. “Today might be my lucky day.”
Her lips twisted. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from asking “But how much money do you have to spend to make the jackpot?” Yasmeen slid her gum across the counter and tapped her feet. Then, right before the cashier added up her total, she found herself saying, “Let me get a ticket.”
“What’s your number?”
Yasmeen didn’t know what to choose. She had made enough bad decisions to last both her and her parents’ lifetimes. Her devout Christian father, who was also a pastor, wouldn’t like this move. He would see it as taking the easy way out. Daddy was all about hard work. She swallowed; her forehead beaded with sweat. “I’ll let the machine decide.”
“Alright, bet.”
Yasmeen swiped her card, already regretting her spontaneous purchase. She tucked her ticket into her purse and skulked out of the store. The drive-through food made her mouth water, and she had to pop her gum in her mouth to ease her hunger.
When she arrived home, her parents greeted her with drawn faces. They were sitting side by side on the living room couch, which doubled as her bed.
“What happened?” Yasmeen dropped the bag of food on their small eat-in kitchen table, which boasted a plastic tablecloth from the dollar store.
“They turned off the electricity.” Her father’s shoulders slumped. Willie Adams was a proud man and to see him so despondent pierced her very core.
“They did that even though you’re asthmatic?” Yasmeen raged. “That’s inhumane. In a few hours, it’s going to be twenty-nine degrees outside.”
“They said they couldn’t give us another extension.” He released a sigh.
“We have candles,” her mother, Dixie, said. “I can read the Vanessa Miller book you got me from the library by the candlelight. I’m falling behind and I heard a lot about The Light on Halsey Street.” Dixie had instilled a love of reading into Yasmeen. Her mother tore through books with the speed of a snag in pantyhose. Now, though, the image of her mother striving to read in the dark made her heart hurt.
“I can renew it at the library, Mommy. It’s no problem. How much do we owe for the electric bill?” Helplessness wrapped around her psyche.
“Seven hundred dollars plus a connection fee of seventy-five dollars.”
Yasmeen knew she could call any of her girls and they would help her out, but she was so tired of being that friend. The one who was always begging for a bailout. The one who always had money problems. Yasmeen closed her eyes to keep in the tears threatening to spill. She was thirty-three years old and should be in a position to be an asset to her parents after all they had done for her. Instead, she was on their couch, mooching off their generosity. Adding to their burden.
Good thing she hadn’t bought herself anything, because her appetite deserted her. She prodded her parents to eat. “We can head to the library until closing.”
“Our God doesn’t sleep nor slumber. Day or night is the same to Him.” Her father’s quiet words did little to comfort her. Not when she knew the sun would leave in a few hours and darkness would descend.
Her cell phone shrilled again. Pookie was persistent and consistently broke. She strolled into the bathroom, the only place she could have a private conversation, and answered his call. Her ear welcomed the deep timbre of his voice, and her brain flashed an image, reminding her of his unnatural fineness. The man should be on a runway instead of running the streets.
“Hey, baby. I’ve been trying to reach you all day… I got a situation.”
“I got one too,” she shot back with major attitude. He didn’t even ask how she was doing.
“What’s going on with you?” he asked.
“Our lights are out.”
Darryl whistled. “What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know.” Of course, he wasn’t looking at it as a “we” problem. It was all up to her and—as he liked to call Leslie, Toni and Celeste—the Upper Crust Crew. She shook her head imagining what Celeste would have to say if she heard this. Yasmeen and Celeste had gotten into spats because Yasmeen refused to end things with Darryl. Well, Celeste was a fine one to talk when she couldn’t see she had a goldmine in Wade.
Sure enough, Darryl returned with, “You need to signal the Upper Crust Crew.”
“What’s the matter with you? You think this is an episode of Batman or Spiderman where I just need to put out a distress signal for them to throw money at me?”
“Ease up. You know they would help you but you’re too proud.”
That jab hit her heart. He was right. She did have a lot of pride. Just like her daddy. “Unlike you, who has none.”
“If I don’t ask for help, how will I get it?”
She couldn’t argue with that point. “I’ve got to go figure out what to do with my parents.”
“Listen, if you don’t hear from me, it’s because I might be incarcerated.”
Yasmeen almost dropped her phone. “What?” A light tap on the bathroom door made her jump. “Hang on a minute.” She pressed the mute button. “I’m coming out.”
“Okay. I have to go.”
She could hear her mother’s feet shuffling in front of the door and told Darryl she would call him back. Washing her hands out of habit, though she hadn’t used the restroom, Yasmeen wiped them on the towel and let her mother inside. Seeing the worry on her mother’s face made Yasmeen cave.
Darryl was right about her pride. She squared her shoulders and texted Celeste, hoping her friend wasn’t too busy with her nails to read the message. There was no way she was going to ask Toni after their unpleasant exchange earlier. Not that Toni wouldn’t give it, but Yasmeen didn’t want to deal with any snippy remarks. Celeste didn’t make Yasmeen grovel or ask why. Within seconds, twelve hundred dollars appeared in her cash-transfer app.
She fired off a thank-you text and promised to pay her back. Celeste sent her a thumbs-up emoji.
Don’t worry about it.
Yasmeen called the electric company and paid their outstanding balance. Fortunately, since their service had just been disconnected, the electric company was able to send someone to turn on the power. Then she used some of the extra cash to order pizza and pay their water and gas bills. She wasn’t about to take any chances.
Her parents rejoiced, thanking her profusely. Praising her, when she was a leech. They pulled out their board games and Uno cards while Yasmeen swallowed back tears. She hadn’t done anything meaningful to deserve their gratitude. Celeste was the real hero and she told them so. Holding on to her head, Yasmeen welcomed the relief of a problem averted. At least for today.
Chapter 4
Leslie
January 2
Five minutes to spare for Leslie Bronwyn meant she was late, and she couldn’t abide being late. She pulled her luxury vehicle into the spot reserved for parent of the month, which she often was. Leslie was among the top volunteers and sponsors for Nadya’s gymnastics team. Through the mirror, she eyed her daughter in the back seat and smiled.
Nadya had grown an extra foot over the past six months and was almost Leslie’s height. She often wore her long blond hair parted down the middle, and unlike Leslie, she had blue eyes. Her slender brows, pert nose sprinkled with freckles, full lips and slender build had been the reason Nadya’s face had graced many of the gymnastics’ team brochures.
“You’ll be alright, honey.” Leslie turned to tap her twelve-year-old on the leg.
Nadya shook her head and looked out the window, massaging her temples, her bun tight against her scalp. Celeste had suggested Leslie use this edge control, that was ‘the truth.’ No matter how much Nadya moved, her hair remained in place.
“I don’t get why we couldn’t skip one day. I told you I wasn’t feeling well.” Her daughter whined.
Leslie thought about Siobhan, Nadya’s chief competition for first place. “We can’t fall behind. Missing one day could mean losing your chance at getting the lead floor routine at comps.”
“Yeah, cause that’s what’s most important.”
Ignoring her daughter’s crabby remark, Leslie opened her door and got out. She shivered under her down coat. The weather had dropped about ten degrees. She opened the passenger door, picked up her laptop bag and gestured to Nadya to hurry up.
With a dramatic sigh, Nadya scooted outside the vehicle. Leslie’s eyes narrowed. Nadya’s cheeks looked flushed. Maybe she should have stayed in… But Nadya had the potential to be the next Simone Biles, if her coach could be believed. And her daughter could be laid-back, which irritated Leslie to the highest degree. She hated to see wasted potential. Naw, she would give Nadya the push she needed. Nadya would thank her in about two decades or so. She was sure of it. For now, Leslie would be the villain. Shooing Nadya toward the entrance, Leslie hurried behind her, texting Aaron to find out if he was on his way.
His response came in just as she took her seat upstairs, slipping her coat on the back of the chair.
I might not make it. Can you record it?
Leslie clamped her jaw to keep from bellowing in frustration.
This is the third session you have missed. Nadya needs you here.
I need you. She released a plume of air and looked around to see Siobhan’s mom, Ruida, studying her.
Straightening in her chair, Leslie gave a wave and plastered a smile on her face. Then she zoomed in on her daughter stretching on the mat with the other girls. She squinted. Nadya seemed sluggish, but maybe her energy would pick up once they moved from floor exercises to the pommel horse.
The girls moved single file behind the instructor until they were by the balance beam. Leslie pulled up the camera app on her phone. She would wait until it was Nadya’s turn before she hit the video option. Leslie liked to record her daughter’s session so she could review Nadya’s performance and then provide her pointers on how she could improve. Having taken gymnastics herself as a child, until her late teens, Leslie knew all the jargon and what was needed to perform a well-executed move.
Nadya was last in line. Leslie studied each gymnast as they performed, noting that none were as good as her daughter. Under the surface, she was squealing, but on the outside, she strove to appear unbothered. She eased back into the chair and relaxed. Nadya was going to kill it. Picking up her cell phone, she tapped record.
Her daughter mounted the balance beam before swinging into a handstand. Leslie’s lips widened into a smile. Then her breath caught. Nadya’s entire body was shaking, her chest heaving, like she was exerting herself beyond control. Leslie’s heart rate accelerated and she stood. “C’mon, baby,” she whispered.
Nadya then slowly bent backward and placed her hands on the beam. Her hands shook and each move appeared to be labored, like Nadya was struggling to breathe, but she finished the flip. Leslie ended the recording and lowered the cell phone, her eyes planted on her offspring. Something was wrong. She was sure of it. All of a sudden, fear sprung like a well threatening to overflow and she scampered down the stairs to run across the gym, heedless of her spiky heels damaging the mat.
“Stop,” she yelled, waving her arms. “She’s got to stop.”
The coach gave her a stern reprimand but Leslie only cared about getting to Nadya’s side. Nadya lifted her head, cheeks red, frozen in position. For a beat. Then, with a determined grunt, she dismounted before swooping her arms in the air.
Leslie placed a hand over her mouth and looked around to see all eyes pinned on her, looking at her like she was bananas. All except Nadya, who refused to meet her gaze, her hands still in position.
“You’re going to pay for the holes in the mat,” the coach bit out, pointing toward the exit. “You need to return to the waiting area.”
Her shaky hands ran through her short strands. “I-I’m sorry. I—I thought that…”
“Thought what?” Coach put a hand on her hips. “Keep it up and I’ll have you banned from coming to any more practices.”
“Nadya… She looked like…” Leslie shook her head. “I overreacted. I’m sorry.” She backed up. “I’ll return to the observation area. I won’t be any trouble. I promise.”
But then Nadya’s eyes rolled to the back of her head. Her legs bent. And she crumbled.
All the air rushed to Leslie’s lungs. “Nadyaaaaaaaaaa…” She twisted her ankle in her haste to get to her daughter’s side but ignored the pain. All the other gymnasts and the coach surrounded her prostrate child. Leslie wasn’t having it. “Move the children away. Please. And call 9-1-1.” The coach, now appearing apologetic, did her bidding. Her heart thundered and her body felt weak, but Leslie couldn’t fall apart.
She heard a low groan and heaved a sigh of relief. That meant her daughter was alive. Alive meant hope. She dropped to her knees and called out, “Nadya? Nadya? Can you hear me?”
The owner of the gym came bounding across the floor, holding an emergency kit. She opened the rectangular box and held up an EpiPen. “Could she be having an allergic reaction?”
Leslie twisted the hem of her cardigan. Breathless, she replied, “No. No. Not that I know of…” All she could see was her daughter falling to the floor as she remembered ignoring how Nadya felt, because of her competitive nature.
“Did she eat anything new?”
Leslie’s lips trembled. “No. We had pasta in a creamy tomato sauce—her favorite—for lunch.”
The EMTs arrived and took over. Within minutes, Leslie was running behind them as they toted her daughter on a gurney. Nadya appeared lifeless. Leslie’s composure cracked. She called Aaron, but he didn’t answer, so she left a frantic message for him to call her back, before jumping into the ambulance. Leslie held her head in her hands, sobbing for most of the ride. She vacillated between calling for Nadya to wake up and praying for God to not take her baby from her. Then she texted her girls in the group chat to tell them what had happened and ask if one of them could pick up her vehicle.
Yasmeen was quick to volunteer. I’ll go. Keep us posted on Nadya.
Thx.
Her hands shook, but she texted Yasmeen separately to provide the code to enter her vehicle. Leslie kept a spare key under the mat of her driver’s seat in case she ever got locked out. Never had she imagined it would be needed for a reason such as this. As the ambulance swerved into the emergency entrance, Leslie couldn’t help but think how she had a backup plan for every aspect of her life. Except Nadya. She gulped. Her only child. Her miracle baby. The one thing in her life that was irreplaceable. Although her daughter didn’t seem to think Leslie felt that way.
Nadya was a daddy’s girl, and Leslie was alright with it because she was one too. Everything Leslie needed, everything she wanted, had been given to her by her father. Leslie hadn’t needed a husband, and because of her dad, she hadn’t accepted anything less than 100 percent from any other man. Thinking of her dad, Leslie called him to let him know about Nadya’s passing out.
“I’ll be right there,” Edwin Samuels said and hung up the phone.
Knowing nothing would stop her father from rushing to her side was the kind of comfort she needed. He’d enfold her in his arms and assure her that everything would be alright. Because if her daddy said it, she sure would believe it.
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