Chapter Seventeen

Family Feud

If it was in my DNA to be a heartless bitch, I would’ve cut every single Thomas off with no explanation like my name was MCI. Unfortunately, I was Juleesa Marie Jones, and I was raised better than that. I had to end things amicably because these were good people, and despite how shitty things were with me and Poppa, I loved them. Not only that, but they loved me back, and that counted for something. It wasn’t enough to make me stick around, but it was worth at least letting them know face-to-face.

Well, I didn’t have it in me to speak to all of them. Just thinking about talking to Carissa about this made my knees shake a lil bit—but the one person I absolutely had to talk to was Nana Cherry.

I hated it and I knew Amani would hate it, but I felt like I didn’t have a choice. Nana Cherry narrowed her shrewd gaze on me.

“What did I tell you when you first started coming around here and you mentioned that you were having a hard time finding affordable care for that boy?”

Her gaze was hard but kind, yet it didn’t make me feel any better. One thing I didn’t do was hang out with the family of my exes. Even with Samir. We ended things and stayed friends, and yet I never went to the birthday parties or barbecues that they still invited me to. It didn’t feel right. So, why would I start doing that now? If me and Poppa—Cyndi—were done, then I had to be done with her family too. One band, one sound.

Did you forget that Poppa isn’t your ex or...?

A smug voice whispered those words from the back of my mind, and I could’ve slapped myself. That was the problem right there. I’m sitting here thinking of Pop—Cyndi—in terms and conditions that don’t apply. Sighing, I rubbed at my forehead, fairly certain that FOOLISH was printed there in Times New Roman.

“I don’t remember, Nana. That was a long time ago.”

Nana Cherry sucked her teeth and poked me dead center of where the second O probably was. She could likely see it plain and in living color.

“Young as you is and I have a better memory than you? How’d that happen, Juleesa?”

Her teasing was so familiar and warm that I wanted to cry. Even as she ribbed me, there was love there. My bottom lip trembled and I looked away. Instantly, she gripped my chin and turned me back to face her. That sharp gaze that missed nothing, brown irises surrounded by a halo of blue, bored into me.

“Two and a half years ago, you sat in the backyard with my only granddaughter and told us that you loved your job but wished you could afford reliable childcare so that you could dance more. You had your chin lifted up when you said that, do you remember? You weren’t the least bit shamed to admit that you dance with no clothes on. You remember that?”

Dipping my chin, I nodded as a couple of tears fell from my eyes, not because I was embarrassed, but because I suddenly remembered exactly what she was talking about. I sure did sit my ass on that wicker couch and hold my head up with pride as I answered Carissa’s question about my line of work.

“Yes, ma’am,” I finally answered, my voice a little shaky, forcing me to swallow back the flood of tears in my throat. “I remember that.”

“You remember what I told you?”

I nodded again.

“Good,” she said firmly. “I told you not to worry about that baby. I told you to go to work and do what you had to do and that I would keep him as long as you needed me to.” Releasing my chin, she leveled me with a fierce look. “And isn’t that what I’ve done?”

“Yes, ma’am,” I repeated.

Canting her head, she took a step back. “Alright now.” Propped her fists on her hips, she frowned. “I did what I said I was gon’ do and you wanna take my baby away from me? That’s how you thank me?”

Quickly, I shook my head and approached her, reaching to pull her hands into my mine.

“No, Nana, that’s not it.”

“Then what is it, ’cause I know it can’t be something my knucklehead granddaughter done did.”

Despite myself, I giggled. She cracked a smile and I felt a wave of relief that at least she didn’t hate me.

“I just figured that if me and Cyndi weren’t talking, you wouldn’t want us still around the family. I just didn’t want to make things awkward.”

“Awkward?!” The way Nana Cherry’s eyes widened, you would’ve thought I’d called her a harlot. “Let my hands go so I can smack you upside the head and hopefully knock some sense into you!” She wrenched her hands from mine and I jumped back to avoid her swing.

“Nana! Don’t be so violent!”

Obviously annoyed, she huffed and repositioned her hands on her hips.

“Last I checked, wasn’t no mathematics degree needed to dance on stage with your jugs hanging out, so I don’t know why you thought you needed to do all that figuring!”

The way my jaw unhinged and my mandible hung loose had to have looked as ridiculous as I felt. Nana stared at me, waiting. My mouth was drying up, so I gasped and then immediately yelped.

She burst into giggles, her thin shoulders shaking.

“That was funny.” I stated the obvious.

“Mmhm. Not as funny as you thinking you were going to take my baby from me without a fight.” Her hands were hanging by her side after she finished laughing, and I watched as one of them curled into a fist.

Holding my hands up, I took a step backward. “Hey there, slugger. I wasn’t trying to take your baby from you.”

Eyes once again narrowed, she glared at me. “Whatchu call it?”

“I—” My eyes bounced around the kitchen in search of something to help me give her an answer that didn’t sound ridiculous. There was none, and after a moment I gave her a pathetic look. “Self-preservation,” I offered pathetically.

The expectant look she wore morphed into one of recognition and her lips formed an O. On instinct, I started to shake my head, but then stopped when I realized I had no idea what she was about to say. The recognition turned into sympathy; I became fairly certain that I didn’t want to hear what was about to come out of her mouth. I didn’t want sympathy; I wanted to get my baby and skedaddle. But I should’ve known that was easier said than done with this family.

The Thomases were good people. They were close-knit and deeply enmeshed in each other’s lives but had a lot of love to give to outsiders. When they brought someone into the fold, they treated them like one of their own. They’d taken in me and my baby, and even Samir to an extent. In them I had something that I’d been missing since before I made it to double digits, and as I tried to avoid Nana Cherry’s knowing gaze, I at least had the wherewithal to admit the truth to myself.

My sudden need to dig myself out of their family plot was because I wanted to cut them off before they did it to me. It would hurt less if I lost them because I chose to, instead of the other way around.

At least that’s what I told myself.

“It is because of my knucklehead granddaughter, ain’t it?”

Choking out a dry laugh, I shook my head.

“Why she gotta be a knucklehead, Nana?”

Pursing her lips, Cyn’s grandmother quirked an eyebrow at me.

“Well, is she the reason that you’re trying to take my baby from me?”

I didn’t want to heap all of the blame onto Cyn’s shoulders, nor did I want to throw her under the bus, so I rolled my lips into my mouth and shook my head.

It kind of wasn’t a lie.

Not really.

“Did she make a pass at you?”

Nana’s question roughly jerked me out of my thoughts.

“What?! No! Not at all!”

Jerking back, Nana frowned. Finger pointed at me, she leaned forward, her small frame intimidating the hell out of me despite her being half my size.

“Now, wait just a doggone minute! Don’t sound so offended. My granddaughter is a wonderful woman. She’s loving, and makes her own money, and she has a good head on her shoulders. Any woman would be lucky to call her their girlfriend.”

“Except Poppa doesn’t do girlfriends,” I chuckled morosely. Or maybe she did, but she just didn’t do me as a girlfriend.

Unaware that I was having a complete meltdown in my head, Nana grabbed my hand and led me to the dining room, pulling out a chair and motioning for me to have a seat. She returned to the kitchen and was back in a few moments handing me a glass of what looked like red juice. I waited for her to sit before sipping from the glass, only for my eyes to pop wide open as I gave her an appreciative look.

“Ooh, this is good!”

Her smile was proud as she dipped her head. “Ain’t it?”

“Mmhm!”

I held the glass up to the light and peered at the pink liquid. “What is it?”

“It’s a little something I’ve been working on. I call it strawberry wine.”

“You made this?!” I asked after swallowing another mouthful.

At this rate, my glass would be empty within minutes. It was delicious and tasted like the strawberry candy with the chewy centers that my own grandmother used to keep in her purse and dole out to me when I would get restless during long church services. I had to be around Amani’s age at the time. Mommie passed just before I went off to college, and yet the memory of her hit me in the chest with the impact of a baby kangaroo who hadn’t yet figured out their strength. My soft inhale was choppy with unchecked sorrow. I lifted the glass to my lips to find that it was empty.

“That was so good, Nana,” I mused, offering her the glass. My eyebrows rose in surprise when she took the empty glass and replaced it with a full one. She then slid a tub of chocolate chip cookies toward me. I had no idea where she’d pulled all of that from, but I couldn’t deny that it was making me feel better.

Maybe Nana knew that I’d been having a meltdown after all.

“Jucee, baby, wake up.”

Pressure on my shoulder was followed by gentle shaking that managed to pull me out of the deepest slumber I’d had in a good minute. Rolling over from my side onto my back, I lifted my arms above my head and stretched like a cat, releasing a little moan when I felt the bones in my back crack. I’d been curled into a ball and my joints were a little stiff. Sighing, I opened my eyes and looked to my left, my breath catching as my vision focused in the low light coming from the lamp as I recognized Poppa kneeling beside me.

She looked so damn good. A red and yellow Clutch fitted was perched halfway on her head, the bill sticking up at a forty-five-degree angle, showing off her perfect waves. The matching jersey hugged her chest, involuntarily drawing my attention to her titties, where a gold chain hung, the golden crooked crown pendant that I’d had custom made as a gift for her thirty-first birthday nestled against them. Swallowing hard against the dry lump in my throat, I quickly averted my eyes, looking up at the ceiling before lowering my lids to get myself together.

“What time is it?”

In my peripheral, I saw her lift her smart watch to her face. “After six.”

“Damn,” I muttered. “What the hell was in that wine?”

Poppa chuckled. “Wine? You talking about the strawberry drink?”

“Mmhm.”

This time she laughed out loud, the sound sending a shiver down my spine.

“Man, that ain’t no damn wine! That’s hooch!”

Slapping a hand to my face, I groaned. I should’ve known that Nana Cherry was making her own liquor since store-bought bottles weren’t even allowed over the threshold. “She set me up.”

Nana Cherry wasn’t slick. There was no doubt in my mind that this scenario was exactly what she’d been planning when she handed me the second glass of that delicious-ass concoction that she’d made.

“You okay?” Poppa asked, her voice laced with concern.

I nodded. Although I didn’t have to be to work until ten the next morning, and didn’t have any plans that night, I needed to get out of there. Taking a couple of deep breaths, I sat up and swung my feet onto the floor.

Aww, hell.

Because of the way Poppa was positioned, when I sat up, it put her right in front of the space between my knees. If she moved a couple of inches closer, she’d be bracketed by my thighs. We met eyes and the way her left eyebrow rose just a hair of millimeter told me that the realization hit us both at the same time. I blinked in what felt like slow motion and a thousand images of what could happen if the impossible happened and we managed to be on the same page flashed before my eyes. I sucked in a breath, inhaling the cologne I’d bought her for Valentine’s Day, the one that I’d teasingly insisted would make girls wet at first scent, and I almost whimpered.

She looked good and she smelled edible.

Humpable.

Grindable.

Face rideable.

Lord, have all of the mercy and all of the grace.

I needed to clear my thoughts immediately, and not a second later, because it was entirely possible that every thought in my mind was playing out on my face, and that was...bad.

So, so bad.

Closing my eyes, I blew out a breath through my nose. When I cracked open my lids, I watched as she raised a hand and brushed some of my braids off of my shoulder, her fingers lightly grazing my cheek just before she tugged on my earlobe with the tip of her thumb and the side of her index finger. The always innocent move that she’d made probably thousands of times at this point left the entire right side of my face—and the juncture of my thighs—blazing hot.

How the fuck had I never noticed how damn erotic it was for her to touch me there?

Jerking my head to the left, I lifted my shoulder to block her access to the space. Hurt flashed across her face as she snatched her hand back, and I steeled myself against the urge to wrap my arms around her neck and offer her comfort. These were the consequences of her actions. She did this to us.

“Sorry, baby girl,” she said, her voice low. “It’s a habit.”

My lips twisted to the side. “Habits are meant to be broken.”

An annoyingly sexy smirk played at the corner of her lips.

“I thought that was rules.”

Quirking an eyebrow at her, I pushed off of the sofa and stood to my feet.

“I need to go.”

She sucked in a breath, and I understood because I was never short with her. But I was not sorry.

“Juc—”

Shaking my head, I started toward the door. “Never mind. Forget I said anything.”

“C’mon, man. You know that’s not possible.”

My back still to her, I shrugged. “I don’t really know much of anything anymore. Not when it comes to you.” I was pissed at myself for sounding so damn dramatic, but it’s exactly how I felt. What felt like forever ago, I was confident that I knew Cyndi Thomas like the back of my hand, and now, I was wracking my brain, trying to figure out how I’d missed something so crucial.

I’d made it to the door, but Poppa grabbed my hand and tugged me around to face her before I could let myself out of Nana Cherry’s suite.

“Juleesa, wait!”

My eyes were closed again. I couldn’t look at her. I was only here because I’d been trying to eliminate her presence from my life, but drinking that hooch Nana Cherry pulled from her secret stash while I cursed Poppa out in my head only led to her being in my dreams. Now, with her standing in front of me, I was so turned on that it would probably only take a couple circles rubbed on my clit for me to cum. But that was bad because I was still so mad at her.

Not to mention disappointed.

And feeling all of those things for this one woman at the same time had my mind in a tailspin.

“What?” I croaked, hoping that she thought it was because of the drinking and not because I was warring with myself over her.

“You...” The sound of her clearing her throat made my eyes pop open.

There was this look on her face. Something like wonder mixed with hope. I didn’t know what to make of it. Didn’t know what it meant.

I was so damn confused.

“What?” I repeated, my tone less harsh.

“The way you’re looking at me...”

Dammit.

Air whooshed through my lungs, up my esophagus, and out of my mouth. She’d seen it. Seen me imagining my thighs locked on either side of her head while she sucked on my clit like it was a straw.

Double dammit.

Shaking my head, I dropped my gaze to the carpet and mentally scolded myself. Then, I looked up and offered her an apologetic smile. Hopefully, it didn’t look as fake as it felt.

“My bad. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

And then, before I could think it through, I leaned forward with the intention of placing a kiss at the corner of her mouth. To my surprise, my intentions were clocked and then immediately foiled, as Poppa swiveled her head a few millimeters to the left just before I made contact.

You know that feeling when you’ve been traveling for days, or even weeks, and you’ve been sleeping in hotel beds and eating restaurant food for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and you’ve been wearing your shoes more than ever because you aren’t at home so you don’t feel comfortable walking around barefoot in a strange place, but then. Then you get home, and you kick off your shoes, and you eat food you cooked, and you shower in your own tub, and you jump naked under your own sheets, and everything smells like home and warmth and yours?

Thatwas the feeling that consumed me when my lips accidentally on purpose landed on Poppa’s. It had only been weeks since we’d kissed in any capacity, but, no matter how hard I willed it to not be true, Poppa was my home and kissing her felt like getting my footing after stumbling over and over.

And when her arms encircled my waist and her hands splayed against the small of my back, I felt that very same rush of rightness I’d felt the first time our kisses took on a new meaning. Everything about me being in Poppa’s arms, her lips urgently coaxing mine to open for her impending exploration felt rightrightright in the best of ways. And as instinctively as I bent to tie my shoe after stepping into it, I opened for her. The moment her tongue touched mine, the jolt of arousal shocked me into awareness and I realized that I was doing the very thing I’d been avoiding for weeks. How quickly I became weak in the knees when it came to this woman.

I froze, ceasing all movement, and to Poppa’s credit, she echoed my movement, or lack thereof. Pulling away from her, I broke our connection and stepped out of her arms, averting my eyes, not wanting to see whatever expression she wore.

“Sorry,” I whispered, sucking in a fortifying deep breath before I reached up and swiped at the lip gloss that had transferred onto her mouth. It had become tacky after the hours-long nap I’d taken and took a little pressure to get it all off, but I ignored how she stood there and allowed me to do it. “It’s a habit.”

Backing away from her, I pulled open the door and left the room, forcing myself not to turn around as I entered the kitchen and headed for the front door.