Page 162 of Invisible Bars

Dessign laughed and had to hold her chest, Paris smirked, and Pops paused only long enough to add more sauce to his steak.

“Giselle, we’re just… going to leave,” Paris’s father announced, rising from the table like the chair had grown spikes. “I think you all need to talk… privately.”

“Yeah, y’all do that,” I said. “And while you’re at it, don’t entertain any more conversations about me marrying your daughter, because it ain’t gonna happen. Not now. Not ever.”

“Imanio!” Giselle sucked in a deep breath, as if I’d dragged a muddy dog across her imported rug.

I tilted my head and shot her a mocking glare.

“Giselle!” I echoed, mimicking her tone exactly. “Oh no, he’s not behaving how I rehearsed in my head!” My voice was high-pitched and dripped with sarcasm.

Paris’s father released a long sigh. His whole face gave:We will never be returning here again.

“Mr. Lattimore! Please accept my apology!” Giselle sputtered, turning to him in a panic. “This was… this was unexpected! They—I meanshe—can leave, and we’ll sort all of this out!”

Giselle was practically begging, voice wobbling as she tried to patch up the fantasy she clearly thought she still controlled.

I took a slow step forward; my eyes locked on GiselleandParis’s father.

“My wife’s not goinganywhere.And if I hear about y’all speaking on this, trying to spin it, or come back through my family again… let’s just say, if y’all don’t forget this evening as soon as y’all walk out that door, it won’t be dinner you’re choking on next time.”

Paris’s father looked like he wanted to shrink into his shoes.

“Right. Well then… I guess we’ll be on our way.”

Paris’s mom was already halfway out the door, heels clicking like gunshots on marble.

Paris gave Naji a quick glance—something between empathy and curiosity—but even she knew not to linger.

They exited without another word.

I turned back to Giselle, who was still standing there, stunned, breath shallow, and her expression caught somewhere between disbelief and barely-contained anger.

“We need to talk in private! Now!” she demanded.

I gently gripped Naji’s hand a little tighter so she knew I wasn’t letting her go and that I was sticking by her side.

“Nah. Whatever you got to say, you can say it in front of her… mywife,” I emphasized. “I mean, she isfamilynow.”

“Over my?—”

I raised a hand… not high; just enough to slice her sentence in half.

“Giselle,” I chuckled, but it damn sure wasn’t out of humor, “please don’t make me make good on whatever you were about to say.”

Giselle cocked her head at me like I’d spoken another language.

“You wouldn’t?” she challenged me with a chuckle.

“Oh, he’ll do it, Giselle. I wouldn’t test it,” my father warned, scooping a heap of potatoes like that was just Sunday dinner and not an emotional landmine.

Unlike Giselle, my father was aware of my ‘double life.’

The way my mama’s image and mouth were set up? She’d never approve of half the shit I did after hours—not that I needed her approval for what I did in my spare time or with my life in general.

Giselle opened her mouth again, but I didn’t let her get a single breath in.

“You always bring your poison to the table and dress it up like it’s fine wine, then act surprised when it burns going down. Just like you always try to run everything like life’s one of your staged galas.” My tone dropped, heavy and cold. “But not this… and damn sure not her.”