Page 22

LENNOX

I t had taken everything in me to congratulate Omir on being engaged. Every polite word that left my lips felt forced, like my heart was working against me. Deep down, I didn’t mean it—not entirely. Seeing him again stirred up feelings I’d worked so hard to bury.

It wasn’t just the lingering chemistry or the way he looked at me, though that didn’t help. It was everything—the weight of our brief history, the memories of what could’ve been, and the undeniable pull that always seemed to draw us back together, no matter how much time passed.

I couldn’t deny it. Seeing him on the porch, his presence filling the house like he belonged there, made me ache in a way I didn’t want to admit.

The way he hugged me earlier, it lingered.

His touch, his scent, his quiet intensity, it all lingered.

But none of that mattered. He was engaged now, and I had no place in his life beyond polite pleasantries and distant memories. That was what I told myself, anyway.

From my spot at the dining room table, I could hear him laughing with my mother in the kitchen.

The sound was warm, genuine, like they’d known each other for years instead of a couple of hours.

I turned slightly, catching a glimpse of them through the doorway.

Omir was leaning casually against the counter, a dishtowel slung over his shoulder, while my mom stood beside him, stirring something in a pot.

“You cook like this often?” Mom teased, nudging him with her elbow.

“Not as much as I’d like to anymore,” he admitted, grinning. “But I can hold my own in the kitchen.”

“Well, we’ll see about that,” she said, chuckling. “You better not be all talk.”

They both laughed, and for a second, I couldn’t take my eyes off him. He looked so at ease, so comfortable. It was unsettling—how natural he seemed here, in this space that was supposed to be mine, surrounded by the people who knew me best.

“Lennox.”

Lorna’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts. I turned to find her standing behind me, arms crossed, and one eyebrow raised.

“What?” I asked, blinking.

She tilted her head toward the hallway. “Come here for a second.” I hesitated, glancing back at the kitchen, before following her out of the room.

Once we were in the hallway, she crossed her arms again and gave me a pointed look.

“Okay, who is the fine ass man in the kitchen with Mom? Because I know he’s not just some random friend. ”

I sighed, leaning against the wall. “His name is Omir. He’s. . . someone I used to know.”

Her brow furrowed. “Used to know? Like, how?”

“Like. . . we were involved,” I admitted, keeping my voice low. “It was a while ago.”

“Uh-huh,” she said, her tone skeptical. “And now he’s just randomly here, making jokes with Mom and helping with lunch?”

“It’s not like that,” I said quickly. “I ran into him recently, and we’re just catching up. That’s all.”

“Catching up?” she repeated, raising an eyebrow. “Lennox, the way you were watching him. . .”

“I wasn’t watching him,” I cut in, heat rising to my cheeks.

She smirked. “You were definitely watching him. Don’t even try to deny it.”

I rolled my eyes. “It doesn’t matter. He’s engaged. End of story.”

Her expression softened slightly. “And how do you feel about that?”

“Why does it matter?” I shot back, more defensive than I intended.

“Because you’re my sister,” she said simply. “And I can tell this isn’t just some random reunion for you. There’s history here—something unresolved.”

I looked away, unable to meet her gaze. “It doesn’t matter,” I repeated.

She sighed, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Okay. But if you ever want to talk about it . . .”

“I’m fine,” I said quickly.

She studied me for a moment before nodding. “Alright. Just remember what I said.”

I nodded, and she walked away, leaving me alone in the hallway.

As I stood there, I felt the weight of everything pressing down on me—my father’s death, Omir’s presence, the memories I couldn’t shake. I made my way back to the dining room and sank onto the couch, my thoughts spinning. Despite my best efforts to suppress them, they kept circling back to him.

I didn’t know how to describe what I felt—regret, longing, frustration. Maybe all three. But one thing was clear: Omir still had a hold on me, whether I wanted to admit it or not. And the worst part? I wasn’t sure I wanted to let it go.

Lunch was warm and inviting, a sharp contrast to the grief that had cloaked the house for days.

The smell of roasted chicken, collard greens, mac and cheese, and cornbread filled the air, mingling with the sound of soft jazz playing in the background—a choice my mom had made without realizing how much it would remind me of Omir’s club.

She set the last dish on the table, smiling at Omir as she handed him a serving spoon. “Thank you so much for assisting, Omir. You make a great sous chef.”

“I’m glad I could help out,” Omir said, flashing that signature smile that had always disarmed me. “Everything smells amazing.”

“I’m sure she didn’t let you see the ingredients to the baked mac though.” I chimed in.

“You know she didn’t,” Lorna quipped, carrying a bowl of sweet potatoes to the table. “She’s taking that to her grave.”

“Exactly.” Mom agreed with a knowing smile. “Now everyone, have a seat.”

Lorna sat down beside me, throwing me a subtle glance as if to remind me of our earlier conversation. I ignored her and focused on my plate instead.

As the meal went on, conversation flowed easily. My mom asked Omir about his businesses, nodding along as he talked about the expansion of his jazz club, the new restaurant, and. . . his fiancée.

“That’s impressive,” my mom said, genuinely impressed. “Owning and managing two businesses and planning a wedding? You must never sleep.”

“Not as much as I should,” Omir admitted. “But it’s worth it. I love what I do.”

“And you’re getting married soon,” Lorna, not-so-subtly watching me, spoke. “You’re just checking all the boxes, huh?”

Omir gave a small smile, his expression unreadable. “It’s been a busy year, that’s for sure.”

The table grew quiet for a moment, and I could feel the tension creeping in. My mom broke it by turning to Omir. “So, how do you and Lennox know each other again?”

I froze, feeling the weight of her question. Omir, however, didn’t miss a beat. “Lennox used to come to my club,” he said smoothly. “We got to know each other through a mutual friend.”

“Mutual friend,” Lorna echoed, her tone laced with amusement. I shot her a warning look, but she only smirked.

“Small world,” Mom said, oblivious to the undertone of the conversation. “Well, I’m glad you’re here today. It’s been nice having a little distraction from everything.”

Omir nodded, his expression softening. “I agree.”

After lunch, as everyone started clearing the table, I noticed Omir gathering the plates and carrying them to the kitchen. My mom playfully swatted his hand away. “You’re a guest,” she scolded. “Go relax.”

“I don’t mind helping,” Omir said with a grin.

She shook her head, smiling. “Well, aren’t you polite. Lennox could take notes.”

“Mom,” I groaned, rolling my eyes.

Omir chuckled, his gaze flicking to me for a brief moment before he carried the dishes to the sink.

After the table was cleared and the kitchen tidied, Omir grabbed his coat. I followed him to the door, feeling a mix of emotions I couldn’t quite place. As we stepped onto the porch, I turned to him. “Thanks for today. Really. It meant a lot to me and my mom.”

He nodded, slipping his hands into his pockets. “I’m glad I could be here. Your mom’s amazing, by the way. That mac and cheese? Top-tier.”

I laughed softly. “I told you.” We stood there for a moment, the cold afternoon air wrapping around us. I glanced at him, unsure of what to say. “You really helped take our minds off everything today,” I said quietly. “It’s been. . . a lot. So, thank you again.”

His eyes softened as he looked at me. Silence settled between us, heavy and charged.

For a moment, I was reminded of the times we’d spent together and of all the unspoken feelings that lingered between us.

Before I could think better of it, he stepped closer, his hand brushing against mine.

I looked up at him, and our eyes locked.

The intensity in his gaze made my breath catch and then he kissed me.

It was deep, passionate, and raw, like all the emotions we’d been suppressing came rushing to the surface.

I felt my knees weaken, my heart racing as his hands gently cupped my face.

When he finally pulled away, we were both breathless.

He stared at me for a moment, his expression a mix of longing and regret.

“I shouldn’t have done that. My fault.” I swallowed hard, fighting back the lump in my throat.

There was a long pause before he spoke again. “I should go.”

I nodded, stepping back toward the door. “Take care, Omir.”

“You too,” he said softly, turning to leave. As he walked down the steps, the front door opened behind me.

“Is your friend leaving already?” my mom asked, poking her head out. “Why don’t you invite him to stay for dessert?”

I hesitated, glancing back at Omir. He stopped, looking up at me. “I, uh. . .”

“Oh, come on,” my mom said, waving him back. “I’ve got my homemade butter pecan ice cream in the freezer.”

Omir paused at the bottom of the porch steps, glancing back at me with a conflicted expression. I held his gaze, unsure if I wanted him to stay or leave. Omir gave her a polite smile, his hands sliding into his coat pockets. “Yeah, I should get going. Thank you for lunch.”

“Well, you’re welcome anytime,” my mom said warmly. She tilted her head slightly, her perceptive eyes flickering toward me. “Safe travels, Omir.”

“Thank you,” he replied, his gaze lingering on me for a moment longer. “Stay strong, Lennox.”

“You too,” I said softly.

He turned and walked to his car, his movements deliberate but tense. The sound of his engine starting broke the silence, and I watched as his car disappeared down the street, leaving a strange emptiness in its wake.

My mom stood beside me, silent for a moment before she spoke. “You love that man, don’t you?”

I blinked, startled by her question. “What?”

She smiled knowingly, leaning against the porch railing. “I may be old, but I’m not blind. The way you two look at each other,. . . the energy I feel, . . . it reminds me of your father and me when we were younger.”

I turned to face her, my defenses rising. “Mom, it’s not like that. He just had a death in the family and has a whole life he’s building with someone else. I had my chance.”

Her brow arched slightly. “And yet, he was here today, helping me make lunch, conversing like this is where he belongs.”

I shook my head, crossing my arms over my chest. “He was just being kind. That’s all.”

“Maybe,” she said, her tone thoughtful. “But kindness doesn’t explain the way he kissed you on this porch.”

My heart jumped. “You saw that?”

She gave a small chuckle. “Lennox, I see everything. It’s a mother’s gift.”

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “It doesn’t matter. I’m. . . I’m happy for him. I really am.”

She reached out, placing a hand on my shoulder.

“Hmm. If you say so, Lenny.” I opened my mouth to respond, but nothing came out.

“I know you’ve been through a lot,” she continued gently.

“And I know you’ve worked so hard to build this life for yourself.

But don’t let fear or pride keep you from being honest with yourself, Lennox. You deserve to be happy too.”

I nodded slowly, the lump in my throat growing larger. She gave me a soft smile and squeezed my shoulder before heading back inside, leaving me alone on the porch.

I leaned against the railing, staring out into the quiet street. Her words replayed in my mind, stirring something deep within me. Was I happy? Or was I just going through the motions, convincing myself that success and independence were enough to fill the void?

I thought about Omir—the way he looked at me, the way his kiss had reignited feelings I’d worked so hard to bury.

And yet, he had a fiancée, a life that didn’t include me.

And that was because of me and my choice to leave.

I exhaled shakily, closing my eyes. Maybe my mom was right.

Maybe I did need to be honest with myself. But what good would it do now?

As I stood there, the air brushing against my skin, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this chapter of my life wasn’t as closed as I wanted it to be.