“And your girlfriend who almost lost you and cannot,” she says, tears saturating her words, “under any circumstances go through that again.”

Weak as I am, I manage to pull her close. Despite the wires and tubes, she buries her head in my neck and soaks my hospital gown with her tears.

“You’re right,” I say into her hair, pushing it back from her face. “I’ll take my time, okay? I’ll be careful.”

“I can’t lose you.” Her head shakes. Her words shake. “I tried to tell you.”

I glance past her to the floor where something catches and holds my attention.

“Is that why there’s a circle of salt around my hospital bed?” I ask, half-smiling, half-freaked out.

“They wouldn’t let me use my candles.” She sniffs with a weak laugh. “Fire code.”

“God, they’re gonna commit you, baby.”

“No, they actually think I can bring people back to life.”

“Why would they think that?”

She shrugs, her look sheepish. “Baby, I have no idea.”

Epilogue

Lotus

“Look at her now.

She arises from her desert of difficulty clinging to her beloved.”

--Song of Solomon 8:5

Dinner. Tonight.

I press the card with Kenan’s nearly-illegible words to my lips. It’s just paper and ink, but I taste the sweetness of the man behind it. His sincerity and love wrap around me. Even when we’re thousands of miles apart, I feel the protection of his arms.

It’s so good to not be four thousand miles apart today, though. In addition to negotiating a long-distance relationship, we’ve been getting Simone used to us being a couple, and maintaining two demanding careers. The last seven months have been eventful and blissful, and at times, really hard. And there’s still so much transition ahead. It’s good to be here in San Diego, though, even if I don’t get to stay very long.

Which reminds me . . .

Me: Chicas! Are we ready for LA next week?

Yari: Yasss, girl! I sent you guys the list of locations we’re scoping.

Billie: Got it! And I’ve scheduled lunch with three investors while we’re there.

Yari: Lo, you NEED to ask that investor in your bed if he wants to get into your pants . . . the ones you design, I mean. Okurrrrr!

Me: What’d I tell you about Cardi B? LOL! And NO. I’m not asking Kenan to invest in gLo. Forget about it. Can we make sure our shit is tight so we don’t have to ask my boyfriend to float us? TYVM.

Billie: Right. Let’s impress these investors. Lo, did the samples make it to San Diego?

Me: Yup. They’re here at Kenan’s place. I’ll bring them with me to LA next week. Are you guys apartment hunting while you’re there?

Billie: Affirmative!

Yari: Yes, mami!

Simone’s face interrupts onscreen with a FaceTime request.

Me: Gotta go. TTYL.

Yari: Deuces!

Billie: Byyyyyyyye.

I accept the FaceTime request and smile at Simone onscreen.

“Hey, lady!” I hop onto one of the counter stools in the kitchen and hold the phone in front of my face. “How’s camp?”

“Grueling.” Simone rolls her eyes, but grins. “I thought I knew how to dance. I had no idea. It’s a whole other level. There’s no time for much else.”

“At least Laguna Beach is gorgeous. I hope you get in some sun and surfing.”

A shadow crosses Simone’s face. “I keep thinking about the last time Daddy brought me up here. The accident.”

Even with the terror behind us, my heart still stutters and my hands clench where they rest on the counter.

“I know.” I shake off that memory and laugh to dispel the heaviness. “He was back on court as soon as the doctor cleared him, though. Remember? We had to practically tie him to the bed.”

“Daddy was not about to miss the Waves’ first playoff season.”

“Hey, we might get to go to more playoff games. Maybe next time, they’ll win it all.”

Simone’s eyes brighten and a smile breaks on her face. “Or what if Daddy retires?”

Kenan missed a lot with her during his career, and she obviously loves the prospect of having him around more. So do I. He’s seriously considering making this next season his last.

“Maybe,” I reply noncommittally. I’m sure that’s a tougher decision for him than we can really understand. Probably even more than he can grasp until he experiences that huge void where ball used to be.

“My mom’s in LA,” Simone says, recapturing my focus.

“Oh really?” I keep my tone deliberately light. “Cool.”

Bridget has accepted me in Kenan’s and, by default, Simone’s life, but she and I still aren’t the best of friends. We don’t actively dislike each other. It’s more of a wary indifference.

“Yeah,” Simone says. “She’s taking some acting classes. She says NeNe left The Housewives and made it to Broadway. She wants to be ready.”

“Good for her,” I reply neutrally.

“You’re going to LA next week, too, right?”

“Yeah. Meeting with investors. Looking at spaces for the shop.”

“I can’t wait to see your first line.”

“Gah.” I laugh and shake my head. “I can’t believe I’m really doing this. Leaving New York. Moving out here. Starting the gLo line. Having my first show next March for LA Fashion Week. It feels like it’s happening so fast and also taking forever.”

“My dad’ll be a lot happier when you’re living out here. That’s for sure.”

I don’t know how to respond. My design studio will be in LA because it makes more sense than San Diego. There’s a richer fashion scene there—better opportunities, more celebrities—but I’ll be living in San Diego to be close to Kenan, and making the two-hour drive up to LA a few times a week. We’ve been careful every step of the way orienting Simone to our relationship. I’ve even sat in on a few family-therapy sessions. We want to do this right. For her, we have to.

“I’ll be happier, too,” I answer, “but my boss won’t! JP is kicking and screaming.”

The hiss of frying food snares my attention. I hop down, still holding the phone so Simone sees my face, and prop the phone against the backsplash while I stir the onions, garlic, and flour for the base of my étouffée.

“When do you leave New York?” Simone’s blue eyes widen with excitement. It makes me smile that she’s happy I’m coming to the West Coast.

“It’ll be a few months. I’m staying in New York through Fashion Week in September to help JP. Then I’ll move out here.”

I stir in more flour and check the rice cooker.

“What’re you making?” Simone asks.

“Baked catfish, étouffée, some fried okra.”

“My father is eating fried food? Simone asks, surprise etched onto her smooth face.

“I’m sure he’ll be back to eating rabbit food tomorrow.” I chuckle and open the oven to check the fish. “This is one night only.”

“Oh, for the anniversary!” Simone sounds approving.

So she does know. Even though our relationship is so much better, I walk on eggshells sometimes, scared I’ll break something, so I didn’t tell Simone Kenan and I are celebrating our one-year anniversary. Technically, it’s the one-year anniversary of our first ‘not a date.’ The start of our relationship was such a sore point with Simone, I wasn’t going to mention it.

“Daddy told me,” Simone says matter-of-factly.

“Can you believe he even wanted to celebrate something so silly?” I ask, keeping my voice casual.

“It’s not silly.” Simone’s smile is sly, knowing, and curious all at once. “Did you get him a gift?”

“I did, but I’m not telling you what it is, big mouth.” I wag a finger at her. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten his birthday. So much for surprising him, thanks to you.”

Simone’s unrepentant laughter billows out, and she looks young and carefree. Not too long ago, we discovered her lifeless on Kenan’s bed. I saw her at the lowest point of her short life. Watching her now, you’d never know that less than a year ago she was that same troubled girl.

“Talked to your grandmother?” I ask.

I turn everything off and grab the phone, heading out of the kitchen. I pad barefoot through the immaculate living room, the foyer with its soaring ceiling and massive chandelier. I knew Kenan was a wealthy man, of course, but his apartment on the Upper West Side, though luxurious, didn’t prepare me for his sprawling home in La Jolla, one of the most elite parts of San Diego.

“Yeah,” Simone replies, popping a piece of gum into her mouth. “She’s loving the cruise with her ‘girls.’” She makes air quotes and rolls her eyes.

“She deserves some time off, putting up with two bossy people like you and your dad,” I joke and climb the winding staircase.

“We’re bossy? Who basically re-wrote the rules of Taboo when her team was losing?”

“Oh, my God. We beat you guys fair and square.” I shake my head as I enter Kenan’s bedroom. “Bunch of sore losers.”

“You guys had Banner,” Simone scoffs. “She should count as two players.”

“Yeah, well you had her husband. She and Jared are like barracudas.” I shudder. “Can you imagine if they played on the same team?”

“We’d never let that happen,” Simone says with a straight face.

A slim, dark-haired woman comes into view on Simone’s screen, standing in the doorway of her room. “Simone,” she says. “It is time.”

“Yes, Madam Petrov.” Simone flashes her a grin before looking back to the phone. “Gotta go.”

“Okay. Thanks for calling.” I sink onto Kenan’s California king and smile. “And I like the hair, by the way.”