Page 23 of My Only (My First, My Last)

A yla

“Ayla,” my mother said the moment she opened the door. “Beloved.”

Her arms were around me before I could even say a word.

It was like she could sense that I almost didn’t show up.

“Hey, Mama,” I said, embracing her back.

The scent of dinner wafted through the air, meeting me at the door and damn near pulling me inside. One deep inhale, and I already knew—lasagna. My mother’s lasagna. My stomach growled in response.

I’d known about this dinner for weeks, my mother reminding me every chance she got.

“ Remember, I’m hosting a very special dinner at my house next Friday.”

“Don’t forget, beloved. Friday.”

Though canceling had crossed my mind more times than I cared to admit, I knew I couldn’t. Not this dinner.

“Is this her ?”

The deep unfamiliar voice reached me before the man’s face did.

I had to remind myself to breathe.

My mother turned toward him, and my eyes followed.

He was tall, handsome, and in great shape for a man in his early sixties. He carried himself with ease, with confidence.

“Yes, it is,” my mother confirmed, pressing a hand to my cheek. Then, she reached behind her, fingers sliding into his. I watched the whole thing happen, my heart twisting.

“Ayla,” she continued, “this is Warren. Warren Jameson.”

“You can just call me Warren,” he said quickly. “Warren is just fine.”

I swallowed hard but forced a smile. “Nice to meet you, Warren.”

He stepped in close to my mother, her palm resting gently on his chest.

And I watched the whole thing happen.

Forgetting, again, to breathe.

Warren was the reason I’d almost canceled.

Especially after I spent too long in the house, waiting for Hassani to show up, only to get a call from him telling me to go to my mother’s without him.

“The vendor for the community center’s flooring sent the wrong shipment of tiles.” He sighed on the line. “I gotta stay a little later to approve an alternative.”

His words sent my heart sinking, my head going light.

The idea of having to come to dinner alone—to meet my mother’s new boyfriend for the first time—felt like scaling a steep mountain barefoot.

My mother had moved on.

And while I was happy for her, while I wanted this for her, something about it—something about her moving on, albeit several years later—broke me.

“So we’re having dinner by the door tonight, yeah?”

Mr. Franklin’s voice boomed from inside the kitchen.

I couldn’t help the snort-laugh that burst out of me, my mother and Warren chuckling alongside me.

It was the exact laugh I needed.

“Ayla, you have me in this kitchen, smelling all this good cooking, waiting on you and Hassani,” Mr. Franklin said as he walked closer. “Where’s mi bwoy ?”

“Working.”

I tried— really tried—to keep the irritation out of my voice. But the way Mr. Franklin’s brows furrowed told me I failed.

Still, he pulled me into a warm hug, a much-needed comfort, then kissed my cheek.

“I’m sure he won’t be long,” he said, reassuring me. “Come on.”

Mrs. Franklin greeted me with her usual big hug in the kitchen, and just like always, warmth spread through me the second she wrapped her arms around me.

The comfort of familiarity.

After giving me a tight hug, she turned away to pull her infamous rum cake out of the oven. Soon after, we were all seated at my mother’s dinner table—my former dinner table—eating and talking.

I pulled my phone from my lap while the Franklins engaged in conversation with my mother and Warren, shooting Hassani a quick text.

Me: I’m here at my mom’s. Her boyfriend is too. I don’t know how possible it’ll be, but I really need you to show up for me tonight, baby.

“So, a pre-K teacher,” Warren said from across the table.

I quickly placed my phone flat on the table and smiled. “Yup.”

“How’s the teacher life?” he asked next. “I’ve never known a teacher personally and always wondered what it’s like.”

“One of the best things in the world,” I replied, my smile growing more sincere as I spoke. “My students are great.” I snickered. “And they keep me on my toes.”

Laughter rippled across the table.

“I’m sure they’re great practice,” Warren added.

My gaze dropped to the way he placed his hand over my mother’s. The gentleness of it. The ease.

And I smiled.

He was affectionate. Not shy about showing it.

And it was cute.

My dad had been the same way.

Always touching her. Always finding some way to be close to her whenever he was near.

“At this point,” Mrs. Franklin chimed in, “I’d say Ayla’s an expert on children.”

I laughed, shaking my head.

“She’s been rounding up the little ones for years now.” Mrs. Franklin flashed a grin. “And just so you know, I already cleared out a room for my grandbaby. Just an FYI.”

I pressed my lips together.

“I’ve done the same,” my mother echoed, smiling warmly at me. “Ayla’s old room too.”

“I’m just waiting for the phone call,” Mrs. Franklin added. “So I know what color to paint the walls.”

I forced a giggle and lifted my phone off the table, hoping—praying—there was something from Hassani. A reply at least… but nothing.

I quickly typed out another message, then deleted it before I could send it.

I wasn’t going to beg my husband to show up for me.

I sighed, setting my phone back on the table, gritting my teeth before exhaling the tension away.

The comments from my mom and Mrs. Franklin were innocent, yes, but they stung. The topic of babies had come up before, way back when Hassani and I started dating. But after we got married, they never brought it up again.

I had been thinking about it, though.

Ever since I met Bryant Greene and his wife, Zoe, at Hassani’s work social last year, the idea had lingered in my mind. For years, I told myself we had time. That we should just enjoy each other first.

But now that I was ready…

I wasn’t sure he was.

I worried that with all the work Hassani was doing, a baby would feel like nothing more than an inconvenience.

“Well,” I said, lifting my glass of wine to sip. “I’d have to have my other half around a lot more before I can make that kind of announcement, y’all.”

I was half joking and very serious, and I guess that was evident in my voice because instead of laughter, the table went quiet.

Mr. Franklin tilted his head, his brows furrowing again as he studied me.

Immediately noticing the shift in the room, I forced a nervous giggle. “I’m joking.” I waved my hand dismissively. “It’s a joke. Ha, ha? Remember those? Or do we not laugh at my jokes anymore?”

Mr. Franklin let out a low chuckle, his eyes narrowing playfully. “You telling me I need to sit my son down?”

“No,” I was quick to reply. “He’s good. We’re good. I just… I just really, really wish he was here tonight to meet Warren.”

And that part was true.

What I wouldn’t give to reach beneath the table, take Hassani’s hand, and squeeze it—to steady the chaos racing in my mind.

Because my mother had a boyfriend.

And she looked happy. In love, even.

It was kind of breaking my heart.

“Well, I look forward to meeting him,” Warren said, nodding with a smile. “I hear he’s working on a really big project.”

“A major one,” Mr. Franklin added, his grin stretching wide. “He’s the principal architect in charge of all the commercial and residential structures in the new village. Greene Gardens.”

Warren’s face lit up. “Get out of here! He’s working on that?!”

“ Mm-hmm ,” Mrs. Franklin confirmed with a proud nod. “We’re so proud of him.”

“ So very proud,” my mother added.

They carried on talking about Greene Gardens, and I just listened.

On the outside, it was a massive accomplishment. A huge feat.

But on the inside—the inside of my marriage—it was a string of canceled plans, broken promises, and empty “I’ll make it up to you” tours.

It didn’t feel so grand from where I was sitting.

By the time we’d taken our last bites of food, I knew.

He wasn’t coming.

He hadn’t replied to my message either.

And I couldn’t complain. Couldn’t seem sad about it. Because he was working on this huge project that we were all so proud of him for.

I need my bed right now.

“You’re leaving, Ayla?” Mrs. Franklin asked as she wrapped her arms around me.

“Yeah.” I hugged her tight. “I need to go home and rest before school tomorrow. There are only a few weeks left, and I want to make sure everything’s in place so I can end the school year right.”

That was partly true.

The truth was, I was tired.

Tired of pretending I wasn’t upset.

Tired of trying not to care.

After saying my goodbyes to Mr. Franklin as well, I joined my mother at the front door.

She smiled at me as I pushed my arms through my denim jacket. Then, with a knowing look, she asked, “So…?”

I met her gaze and nodded slowly. “He’s great, Mama. Absolutely perfect for you.”

“But do you like him?”

“I do,” I answered. “I like him a lot .”

But even as the words left my lips, I felt my chin quiver, beyond my control.

And when I tried to stop it, I felt my eyes well with tears.

My mother noticed.

Her face mirrored mine before she nodded, inhaling a deep breath. “I know, I know.”

She held out her arms, and I walked right into them, hugging her tight, fighting to keep my emotions in check.

The tears weren’t just sad.

They were happy too.

Happy that she was finally moving on.

And sad because she was finally moving on.

She held me tighter, her voice soft in my ear.

“Your daddy will always be in my heart, Ayla,” she whispered. “I promise you that. I swear.”

“I know,” I said softly. “I love you.”

“I love you too, beloved,” my mother replied, pressing a gentle kiss to my cheek. “Call me when you get home, so I know you got there safely.”

“I will.”

As I stepped out of our hug and made my way to the car, tears brimmed in my eyes. I quickly wiped them away with the backs of my hands when I heard…

“Ayla!”

Before I even turned around, I knew who it was.

I took a steadying breath, drying my face with my denim jacket’s sleeve before facing him.