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I steady my breathing. ‘I just thought you understood what I’m trying to do. How would you feel if someone came to Oynx– which is supposed to aid the Black community– and said youhadto partner with someone white for it to be legitimate?’

‘I would do it, Keeks. In fact, I’m about to do it. I’m about to close a deal with a French company. They know how to broaden our scope, see our potential and my future partner, Amelie—’

Amelie?!He just made that up. There’s no way her name is the first thing that would come up when you google ‘French names for women’. And why has he never mentioned it before?

‘. . . really gets my vision. I didn’t mention it before because I knew you would be extra about it. It’s a good business decision. Look, I’m just saying there’s a way to look out for the culture and make bank. How are you helping the average Jamal on road—’

I really don’t want to think he just used the phrase ‘average Jamal’ earnestly, so I wait for him to tell me he’s joking.

‘. . . by being broke?’

Wow.

‘You have the sponsorships now, the odd writing gig, but the podcast is over. You have to be realistic.’

It occurs to me that Bakari didn’t even entertain the potential of the podcast finding new life elsewhere. I own the rights. I could if I wanted to. I would lack the budget and the resources, but Icouldif I wanted to. Irritation spikes through my skin. I didn’t need an MBA spat back at me. I needed someone to see my dreams, pick them up and feel the heft of possibility.

‘You know what, babe? Somehow, I am able to imagine a reality where your job offer isn’t the only thing standing between me and having to sell feet pics. Although to be clear, I have very elegant feet and would make money off them if I wanted to, but, the thing is, it would be mychoice.You’re not even giving me a chance to figure out my next steps—’

Bakari sighs in a way that makes me wish I’d told him that the sauce in the lobster linguini needs some more richness, maybe a knob of butter cut with some sugar, and a little more salt. Moreflavour.

‘Keeks, I want to hire you because I think you would be a huge asset to Oynx. It’s not like this isMad Menand I’m asking you to be my secretary. Although, yeah, that would be hot.’

I, again, wait for him to tell me that he’s joking. Instead, he finishes off his wine. Also, I know for a fact that he has never seen all ofMad Men. He just pretends to.

I nod. ‘Tell me, Bakari, is it some kind of, like, kink to you to be my boss? Because we can roleplay that, no need to go to this extent. And– fuck my own personal ambitions just for a second– how do you think this will affect our relationship?’

I’m definitely on my way to an out-and-out freakout. This is an odd tenor of our relationship– we don’t do this; we don’t argue– and now I’m realising it’s because we don’t have enough to argue about, and this fact is almost making me as uncomfortable as every single thing else about this conversation. Bakari looks bewildered. I get it; he’s never seen me like this. Then he recomposes himself, gently putting his cutlery down and leaning back in his chair.

‘I don’t know, Kiki. How do you think you rejecting my hypothetical proposal will affect our relationship?’

My high horse stumbles. My mouth snaps shut. I shift in my seat awkwardly and pull my braids across my shoulder for something to do. I clear my clear throat.

‘Look, I’m—’ I try to source an apology. It’s hiding deep somewhere within my frustration– it must be, because I can’t find it, and I don’t have time to.

‘. . . I just panicked—’

He nods casually. ‘Yeah. I got that, but why? I mean, theoretically, we work. You care about me and I care about you– so much that I am willing to have you be part of mycompany,which in a way is kind of a bigger deal than marriage—’

Is it, though? I decide this isn’t the right time to dispute this, and I have to say I’m proud of my restraint. ‘Focus on the conflict at hand,’ the therapist I had told me in the two sessions I did before her prices had me deciding that I’m healed.

‘But, Bakari, that’s just it. I mean, just now you said youcareabout me. I mean,doyou love me?’

Six months into our relationship, Bakari started signing off his phone calls, with ‘love you’ and I replied with ‘I love you too’ and that was it. There was no build up, no falling, no flying. I was upright the whole time and I looked around that day and I was like, huh, this might as well be love, right? Being with him for half a year was kind of a miracle considering there was a time I found it difficult to envision my life with anyone else but My Ex without wanting to vomit. I liked Bakari enough to not skip ahead without him (or at least pretend not to) and watch the next episodes of a show we were watching together. I liked his mum; she always sent him back with brown stew chicken for me.

When I saw him, I felt warm and pleasant, secure inside my body, my soul locked in, not reaching to curl round his, but safe enough in its company. What else did I need? I figured that might as well add up to love. It’s the only love I’m available for now. No tingles, no swooping sensation, no feelings pressing up against my veins and making the air around me sing, just. . . enough. Just enough. And enough is enough.

‘Of course I do,’ he replies now, almost with annoyance. ‘Doyouloveme?’

I swallow a lingering taste, not from the linguini, not from the wine, but from a forgotten time– heady honey and spice, decadent– and I say, ‘How could I not?’

My phone starts vibrating again, and for some reason this time it feels like it’s an emergency. There’s something I’m forgetting and the tremors of my phone reach me with fervour. I need to pick it up, but I catch the frustration and confusion running over Bakari’s usually placid face.

‘Kiki, why do I need to say it all the time for you to believe it? We’re adults. I plug your podcasts on my socials even though my audience isn’t exactly yours. I support you through all your creative meltdowns– of which there are many and, honestly, it’s a little extra.’

I gasp, momentarily letting the vibrating of my phone fade within my consciousness. ‘Extra?Extra?I’m sorry if having to re-record a new podcast episode because one of my favourite artists did a surprise drop makes me a little stressed—’

Bakari continues. ‘And I go on awkward double dates with your friends even though they clearly don’t like me—’