“Hey, sis, I need the birthday girl a minute here.” Her father linked their arms and strolled away from his sister.

“Thanks, daddy.”

A smile broke out on his round face. “I know how she gets. She started in on me the second she got here.” He patted his tummy.

Her father had only recently gotten the Gooding paunch that all his brothers seemed to grow as they got older. He hadn’t gotten the hair loss yet. His short fro was going strong, if not a little greyer. Brown hands drummed idly against his belly as he walked them over to where some finger foods were laid out.

“So, your friend still coming?” he asked as he steered them over to the food table.

Cherisse’s face prickled as she flushed. “Yeah.”

“What you want to eat?” he continued, not pursuing the topic any further. She could always count on her father to not pry too much. It helped with her tumbling tummy, especially since she was braced for her mother’s reaction.

Her mother’s scolding didn’t get any less harsh with age, but Cherisse would stick up for herself and Keiran if needed. But some food for fortification couldn’t hurt.

There were Styrofoam cups of geera chicken and pork, fried wings with honey mustard dipping sauce, and pholourie with tamarind sauce. This wasn’t even half of the food her mother would’ve cooked or organized with others to bring. These were just cutters, the appetizers to soothe any grumbling bellies. The main course wouldn’t be served until later in the evening.

Cherisse reached for a cup of geera chicken. “This looks so good.”

Her father looked around before reaching for the geera pork. He maneuvered her, so she stood directly in front of him, shielding his view from her mother’s laser eyes.

“Seriously?”

Her father dug into the cup. “Listen, I not able to hear no talk from your mother about how I not supposed to be eating this. Just let me have this one cup.”

The laughter burst out of her, loud and rambunctious, which was usually a siren call for her mother, who detested Cherisse’s laugh and always found it unbecoming of a lady. She didn’t care. It amused her that her father, who towered over her 5’2” mother, hid to eat some pork for fear of his wife’s wrath. But when her mother got going, she wouldn’t let a little thing like her height stop her. Her mother didn’t raise her voice—because ladies didn’t ever do such a thing—but she was so adept at cutting someone down with her words that you felt that tongue lashing for days after.

“Alright, but you better eat fast.” She looked around. “Don’t think because it’s my birthday, she won’t buff me too, for encouraging this.”

As the afternoon wore on, Cherisse kept checking her phone. Still no messages from Keiran. She’d sent a casual photo of the food, not wanting to send any Where are you? texts just yet, which gave her pause. Why was she so hesitant to send that text? She definitely hadn’t cared about sending a message like that before. Just because they were going to do the thing—she’d get around to being comfortable saying ‘dating’, it had just been so long—didn’t mean she had to act different, be different. That was nonsense.