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LENNOX

S unday dinners at my parents’ house were a ritual. No matter how busy we were, we were expected to show up, no excuses. And if you dared to miss one, you’d be met with a guilt trip long enough to last until the next meal.

As I stood in front of my closet, rifling through rows of neatly hung dresses and blouses, I couldn’t help but feel a little apprehensive about tonight.

My family didn’t let anything slide—not my career-focused single life, not my refusal to settle down, and definitely not the fact that I was the only one still coming to these dinners alone.

I finally settled on a simple black dress and heels and pulled my hair up into a sleek bun.

A few touches of makeup, I glanced at my reflection in the mirror as I applied a quick coat of lip gloss, smoothing the edges with my finger.

My thoughts drifted, as they often did lately, to Omir.

It had been days since I’d seen him at his club, but the memory of our last encounter lingered like a song stuck on repeat.

I sighed, pushing the thought aside. Tonight wasn’t about him or the mess of feelings I couldn’t seem to sort out. Tonight was about family, and I needed to focus.

The smell of collard greens and baked macaroni greeted me the moment I stepped into my parents’ house, wrapping me in warmth and nostalgia. My mother’s voice rang out from the kitchen, sharp and commanding, as she instructed my older sister, Lorna, to properly set the table.

“Lennox!” Dad’s deep voice boomed from the living room. He was sitting in his favorite recliner, a beer in hand and the game playing softly on the television.

“Hey, Daddy,” I said, leaning down to kiss his cheek.

He smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “How’s my baby girl? Still out there conquering the world?”

“Something like that,” I said with a small laugh, standing up straight.

“Better be careful, or you’ll scare off all the men,” he teased, shaking his head.

I rolled my eyes. “Not you too.”

“Lenny!” my mother called from the kitchen, saving me from having to reply. “Come help me with the cornbread.”

I slipped off my heels and made my way to the kitchen, where my mother was bustling around, apron tied tightly around her waist. Lorna, visibly pregnant and glowing, was placing plates on the table while my brother Lawrence was sneaking a taste of the sweet potatoes.

“Get your. . .” Mom swatted his hand away with a wooden spoon. “That’s for the table!”

“Come on, Ma. You know I can’t resist,” Lawrence said with a grin, his gold wedding band catching the light as he reached for another piece.

“Lennox, make yourself useful,” Mom said, nodding toward the pan of cornbread on the stove.

I grabbed the pan and began slicing the cornbread into neat squares, listening to the familiar chatter around me.

“Where’s Olivia?” I asked Lawrence, referring to his wife.

“She’s out back with the kids,” he said, popping a piece of sweet potato into his mouth. “Giving me a break before I have to chase them around again.”

“And your fiancé?” I asked Lorna, glancing at her.

“Darnell is parking the car,” she said, her hand resting on her swollen belly. “He better hurry up before Mom starts another one of her lectures.”

“Damn right,” Mom muttered, stirring a pot of collard greens. “A man’s supposed to be on time for family dinner.”

The front door opened, and Darnell walked in, carrying a tray of desserts from the local bakery. “Sorry, Mama Anderson,” he said with a sheepish grin.

“Uh-huh,” Mom said, eyeing him but softening when she saw the desserts. “At least you brought something.”

Dinner was served shortly after, and the table was a masterpiece of southern cooking—fried chicken, baked macaroni, collard greens, candied yams, and honey cornbread. We all sat down to dig in and catch up.

“So, Lenny,” Olivia began, her tone light but teasing as she passed the fried chicken. “Any new developments in your love life?”

I paused mid-scoop of macaroni, giving her a pointed look. “I’m focused on work. You know that.”

“That’s what you always say.” Lawrence chimed in, leaning back in his chair.

“Come on, Lennox.” Darnell chortled. “Don’t tell us you’re not even dating.”

“She doesn’t have time for that,” Mom said, her tone both proud and exasperated. “She’s too busy being successful.”

“Well, it wouldn’t kill you to make some time,” Lorna said, raising an eyebrow. “You’re not getting any younger, you know.”

“Thanks for the reminder, Sis,” I said dryly, taking a sip of sweet tea.

“Leave her alone,” Dad said, cutting into his chicken. “If she’s happy, that’s all that matters.”

“Thank you, Daddy,” I said, giving him a grateful smile.

But even as I brushed off their comments, I couldn’t stop my thoughts from wandering.

They didn’t know about Omir, about the way he made me feel like I was coming alive for the first time in years.

And maybe that was the problem—I didn’t know what to do with those feelings, either.

As the conversation shifted to Lorna’s upcoming baby shower and Lawrence’s plans for a family vacation, I found myself retreating into my thoughts, the bickering from the kids around me fading into the background.

Omir’s face flashed in my mind—his smile, the way he looked at me like I was the only thing that mattered. My chest tightened, a mix of longing and confusion swirling inside me.

“Lennox?” Mom’s voice snapped me back to the present.

“Hmm?” I looked up, realizing everyone was staring at me.

“Pass the cornbread,” she said, giving me a curious look.

I handed her the plate, forcing a smile as I tried to shake off the feeling that I was standing on the edge of something I couldn’t quite define.

The following morning, I arrived at the office just before eight, my laptop bag slung over my shoulder. The weekend hadn’t done much to quiet my mind. Dinner at my parents’ house had left me feeling off-balance, and I couldn’t shake my dad’s words. “If she’s happy, that’s all that matters.”

I pushed everything aside as I stepped off the elevator. This was a new week, and I needed to be focused.

“Morning, Ms. Anderson.” The receptionist greeted me with a bright smile.

“Morning, Gracie,” I replied with a nod, making my way to my office.

The air in the building felt charged, like something big was happening. My coworkers were huddled in small groups, whispering excitedly as I passed. I raised an eyebrow but kept moving, determined to get a jump on my emails before the day spun out of control.

I had barely set my coffee down when the CEO, Mr. Harrington, appeared in my doorway. His tailored suit was impeccable as always, and his expression was unreadable. “Lennox, do you have a moment?” he asked, his tone neutral.

“Of course,” I said, standing quickly. “Everything alright?”

“Let’s talk in the conference room,” he said, gesturing for me to follow.

As we walked, my mind raced. Was this about the Crawley account? Had something gone wrong? Or was it something else entirely?

Inside the conference room, I was surprised to see two other senior executives seated at the table. Mr. Harrington closed the door behind us and motioned for me to sit.

“Lennox,” he began, folding his hands on the table, “we’ve been incredibly impressed with your performance over the years. Your ambition, your hard work and your leadership are all top tier. And, your role with the Reynolds merger and the Crawley account, were nothing short of exceptional.”

“Thank you,” I said cautiously, unsure of where this was headed.

“Because of that,” he continued, “we’ve decided to offer you a promotion to president.”

The words hung in the air for a moment before they fully registered. A promotion. President. This was what I’d been working toward for years. “That’s. . . that’s incredible,” I said, a smile breaking across my face. “Thank you so much. I’m honored.”

“There’s just one thing though,” he said, his tone shifting slightly.

“Okay. . .” I said slowly, my stomach tightening.

“The position is based in Chicago,” he explained. “President of our sister company. You’d need to relocate within the next month to the company apartment. Your salary will triple, and you’ll even receive a very generous promotion bonus, along with a company car.”

My smile faltered. Chicago? I loved my city, my home. My life was here in Arbor Hills. Moving to a new city was a monumental change—one I hadn’t even considered.

“I understand it’s a big decision,” Mr. Harrington said, sensing my hesitation. “Take a few days to think it over. We’ll need an answer by Friday.”

I nodded, my thoughts spinning. “Thank you. I’ll let you know soon.”

As I returned to my office, the whispers in the hallway made sense now. News like this always traveled fast. I closed my door and sat at my desk, staring at my computer screen without really seeing it.

This was everything I’d worked for, the next step in my career.

But it also meant leaving behind everything—and everyone—I knew.

My family, my friends, my life. . . and Omir.

Omir. His name hit me like a weight, heavier than I expected.

We weren’t even a couple, so why did the thought of leaving him feel like such a loss?

A knock at my door pulled me from my thoughts. It was Adrian. “Hey, superstar,” he said, leaning casually against the doorframe. “Congrats on the promotion.”

“Thanks,” I said, forcing a smile.

“So, Chicago, huh?” he said, stepping inside. “Big move for a big opportunity.”

“Yeah, it’s a lot to think about,” I admitted, wishing he’d leave.

“Well, if anyone can handle it, it’s you,” he said, his tone flirtatious.

“Thanks, Adrian,” I said, my voice cool.

He lingered for a moment longer, clearly hoping for more conversation, but I didn’t give him an opening. Finally, he left, and I exhaled in relief.

The rest of the morning was a blur of half-hearted work and constant thoughts swirling in my mind.

I couldn’t focus, not with the weight of the promotion—and the move—bearing down on me.

By lunchtime, I couldn’t take it anymore.

I grabbed my phone, stepped into the privacy of the breakroom, and called Sherelle.

It only took two rings before she picked up.

“Lennox! What’s up, girl?”

“Sherelle,” I said, exhaling deeply.

“Uh-oh,” she said, her voice immediately intrigued. “Spill it.”

“I got offered a promotion this morning,” I said, taking a deep breath. “They’re finally making me President. It’s the role I’ve been working toward for years.”

“Lenny! That’s amazing!” she exclaimed. “Congratulations, girl! All those late nights and sacrifices paid off.”

“Thanks,” I said, but my tone must have given something away.

“Wait a minute,” she said, the excitement in her voice dimming. “You don’t sound happy. What’s wrong?”

“It’s in Chicago, Relle,” I admitted.

There was a pause. “Chicago? Like, you’d have to move?”

“Yep. I’d need to be there in a month if I accept.”

“Damn,” she said. “That’s a big move.”

“Tell me about it,” I muttered, running a hand through my hair.

“So what’s the problem? This is what you’ve been busting your ass for, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” I said, slumping into a chair. “It is. But leaving means giving up everything I have here—my friends, my family. . .” I hesitated, biting my lip.

“And Omir,” Sherelle finished for me.

“Sherelle,” I groaned.

“What? Am I wrong?” she asked.

“We’re not even a thing,” I said quickly.

“Doesn’t mean you don’t want to be,” she shot back. I stayed quiet, unable to deny it. “Lennox, let me ask you something,” she said, her tone softer now. “If Omir didn’t come along, would you even be hesitating about this move?”

I opened my mouth to respond, but no words came out.

“That’s what I thought,” she said. “Look, I’m not saying you should give up this opportunity. But maybe you owe it to yourself—and to him—to figure out how you really feel before you make such a big decision. You might regret it if you don’t.”

I let her words sink in, staring blankly at the breakroom wall. “Thanks, Relle,” I said, feeling a small wave of gratitude.

“Anytime, girl.”

As I hung up, her words replayed in my mind. Figure out how you really feel. It sounded so simple, but nothing about this felt simple.

I stared out the breakroom window, the city bustling below me. I had a decision to make—a life-changing one—and no matter what I chose, I knew things would never be the same.