Page 20

There was a time where we could have sworn we were going to get married. Where he would have been by my side and would have replied to Auntie Rafiat with, ‘As soon as she allows me, ma. I’ve been waiting,’ his smile sloping, his gaze glinting at me with a light I knew, I swore I knew, a light that I had said ‘let there be to.’

I’m dizzy, confused, disorientated for a split second, wondering how I got here, to Kofi and Aminah’s engagement party, without him, without us. It feels as if it’s a dream that I’m supposed to wake up from, like these past few years were a hyper-realistic hallucination during a fever, and I’m going to open my eyes in his bed, his arm slung over my stomach, a single eye of his flickering open and beaming light, his lips smiling at the sight of me, rolling out a syrupy, ‘Mornin’, Scotch. How you feeling, baby?’

Shit, how did I get here? Too much champagne. I’ve definitely had far too much champagne.

As if my best friend can sense my mood shifts in her own blood, Aminah appears next to me in a second, arriving in a cloud of gourmand and floral scents, like Tinker-Bellanaija,her arm linking through my own and squeezing me to her side in protection.

‘Hey, babe! It’s time for your speech!’ Her eyes widen pointedly, and she nods just enough for me to catch it.

I dip my chin too. ‘Oh. . . yeah! Of course. So sorry.’ I curtsey before Auntie Rafiat. ‘Excuse me, ma.’

At her mother’s angled and sceptical brow, much like her own, Aminah drags me through the light smattering of people to the front corner of the room, before turning to me with soft concern, both hands reaching for my elbows as she looks me in the eye kindly but firmly, a paramedic checking for bruises on a cyclist knocked over by a Bentley.

‘Oh God, what did she say to you, Keeks? Ask you when you’re going to get married? If you’ve considered law school? Say that you’re a little thicker round the waist? Ask you to like her post on LinkedIn?’

I smile grimly. ‘The first. Except she was talking about me marrying Malakai.’

Aminah groans and rolls eyes identical to her mother’s. ‘Ugh! I’m sorry. She’s so annoying. I’ve told her time and time again you’re with Bakari! You’d think she would approve because he’s in Forbes! I showed her the piece! I think the tattoos and the wide-neck shirt he wore in the headshot let him down in her eyes. Remember when she asked me how long I had been “living the life of a wayward child” when she noticed my daith piercing for my migraines? She’s just extra.’

I snort at this, my momentary mania abating with a dose of Minah Magic, my breathing slowing. ‘Nah. It’s fine, but why does she like Malakai so much? He’s a director!’

Aminah shrugs. ‘I mean, sure, Malakai is a director, which she does not consider a real job, but he was polite and made her laugh and took great pictures of my sister’s wedding and prostrated when he met her and fixed a plate for my great-aunt, so I guess his home training went a long way. You know she’s a sucker for home training.’

I make some sort of congenial sound, because my mind has now ricocheted firmly back to Malakai, who I amrelievedis not here– where the hell is he, though? Does he think he’s too Hollywood to show up to his best friend’s engagement party? The Malakai I knew wouldn’t have. Well, the Malakai I thought I knew. I clear my throat and my head of him. ‘You enjoying your night, though?’

Aminah beams. ‘Yes, thank you, boo. It’s going great and I haven’t slapped a single sister thanks to your excellent interruption system.’

‘It was a close call, though, when I heard Laide ask if you had a second dress option.’ Aminah throws an irritated look at her second eldest sister, looking like her but stretched, more hollow to her cheeks, nose a little less button, as she fires strict orders to a waiter to get her a cosmopolitan despite Aminah being firm in only wanting to serve wine here.

‘Whilst wearing my shoes, no less. Witch. Can you imagine, she’s unironically ordering a cosmopolitan inmyshoes. So tacky. Who orders a cosmopolitan? Are we inSex and the City? She’s soold.’

I refrain from double-checking whether it’s still true that Laide is only two years older than Aminah.

I smile instead, translating the Aminah Speak. When there’s a major shift in the Bakare sisters’ lives, there is some tension, for unobvious reasons. It’s not necessarily because of envy or competitiveness, or because of stolen dream wedding venues (although that has been an issue)– it’s because they’re terrified of it affecting their relationship to each other. The sisters are close in a non-cutesy manner, having each other’s backs but fighting all the way.

‘Please. There’s no way she’d be able to even access those shoes if you didn’t lowkey want her to.’

‘Because I am the Saint in Yves Saint Laurent.’ Aminah sighs like the martyr she is, and lets her gaze drift to Kofi, who is quietly nodding and chatting within a cluster of miscellaneous bros. He’s smiling, but he is a little more subdued than he usually is when he’s with his boys.

‘I feel kind of bad for Kofi,’ Aminah says as she turns back to me. ‘He’s having a good time, but he’s a little. . . muted today. I thought it was because he’s just a bit shy in front of my family, but I just clocked it whilst being with you. It’s because his best mate isn’t here. He’s trying to hide it, but he’s disappointed.’ Her eyes narrow as she shakes her head, sleek, silk press and wavy extensions swishing like water. ‘Man, I couldkillMalakai Korede. When I catch that boy, ehn! So is it because he’s a bigshot director he now thinks he can miss his boy’s engagement party?’

Aminah is evidentlyveryannoyed, because her accent has slipped from neutral posh to Lagosian posh. ‘I went on Instagram and I saw him on that actor’s stories– what’s his name, Monae Noble? That overactinggoatfrom that Motown show? They were at some party. If I find out that he missed his flight because he washungoverand doing body shots off some model’s navel, he’s going to have to square up to me! Doesn’t he know that Ty is waiting in the wings to take his place? I—’ Aminah’s fully loaded now, about to unleash her clip of insults, but something must have flitted across my face, because her eyes flicker in apology. ‘Oh—’

I push a smile out at her, hoping the force would repress the imagery of Malakai licking body shots out of the grooved abs of a woman who probably makes videos like ‘Day in the Life of a Plant Whisperer and Choreographer’ in a sultry whispering cadence. ‘I think it’s time for my speech.’

‘Now, my girl has never been an outdoorsy type. In fact, I would say that Aminah’s idea of camping would be staying in a hotel that hasn’t got a pool.’

There’s a warm smattering of laughter that ripples across the fifty-odd people in front of whom I’m standing as Aminah leans further into Kofi’s arms and nods with a cute little unrepentant tick of her shoulder.

‘That being said, I always knew there would come a day when my brother Kofi would gift her with a very. . .verylarge rock, and that she would accept.’

Whoops swirl around the room and wrap themselves around the couple as Aminah lifts her hand up, flexing it in the royal wave.

Kofi props her arm up with a triumphant, ‘Yeah, you didn’t know that man’s a geologist?’

I laugh and nod. ‘Yeah, also a great DJ and producer. I don’t like complimenting men, but I will give my brother that. And the thing is Kofi has always been good at blending. He used to help out on my radio show, help create mixes, and he would always know what songs would feed into each other, which would amplify one another, bring out the harmony, the feeling. . . which wouldspeakwith each other. And I truly believe that when he saw my beautiful, darling sister that first time at a uni party, doing her cute little two step and shimmy– you know the one– probably wiping down a seat before sitting down, sipping on her amaretto and pineapple, he knew they would make the right blend. Feed into each other. Make each other better.’

Aminah and Kofi moon at each other, and the tenderness drapes heavy on my throat, making my voice harder to haul out. I push through it.