Page 24 of My Only (My First, My Last)

Warren jogged down the steps toward me. “I know we already said our goodbyes,” he said, a little out of breath. “But I wanted to thank you, away from everyone else.”

I frowned slightly. “Thank me for what?”

“For being open to meeting me.”

I blinked at him a few times, not expecting that.

He sighed, rubbing a hand down his mouth before placing both hands on his waist. “I, uh … I know it wasn’t easy. It wasn’t easy for me either.”

I didn’t say anything, just nodded.

“I also lost a spouse years ago,” he revealed. “My wife. She passed from cancer.”

My stomach tightened at the words. “I’m so sorry,” I said sincerely.

“I appreciate that.” He nodded. “And my condolences to you .”

At that, I smiled, genuinely.

“My wife and I never had children,” he continued. “Didn’t get the chance to. But I really admire how much love you and your mother have for each other.”

His eyes softened.

“She told me you were a huge part of her healing after losing your father. And without her even saying it, I know you’re a priority to her. Which means you’re a priority to me too. And so is your happiness… with her being with me.”

My throat tightened as he went on.

“So, if you don’t like me, you can say it,” he added, a small, nervous chuckle following his words. “Although… it would really crush me.”

I snorted a laugh. “There’s nothing not to like, Warren. You’re great. Perfect for my mom.”

As soon as I said it, he let out the deepest breath, his head dipping slightly as he nodded. “Good. Great.”

“My mom picks really great guys, so…” I smiled. “I wasn’t expecting anything but great.”

A wide grin stretched across his face, and something about it warmed my heart.

“It was really great meeting you, Warren.”

I walked up to him, wrapping my arms around him in a hug. He embraced me back, strong and steady.

“Please take good care of her.”

“Of course,” he promised. “You have my word.”

The drive home was a quiet one.

No music. No audiobook. Just the soft hum of my tires on the pavement, my windows cracked open to let in the cool night air.

I needed stillness.

To breathe.

A few miles from home, my phone rang through my car’s Bluetooth.

My heart leaped, thinking it was Hassani.

I quickly glanced at the dashboard screen, but it wasn’t him.

Still, it was a welcomed name. A voice I needed in that moment.

I answered with a smile. “Hey, Aunt Laurie.”

A gentle laugh came through the line, underscored by the sound of seagulls crying in the background.

“Always answering on the first ring,” she teased.

“You’re the only person I know who’s always somewhere with seagulls in the background. I always need to hear that.”

She chuckled. “ Mm-hmm .” A pause. “So, how are things?”

I exhaled. “Okay… I guess. Just leaving Mom’s.” I turned onto the street leading to my house. “I met her boyfriend tonight.”

She gasped. “You did?!”

“Yeah.” I swallowed hard. “He’s great . You’d like him.”

“Oh, Favorite Girl ,” she cooed. “I already do, from our phone calls. What I really wanna know is… do you like him?”

I hesitated. “I do.”

“So why do you sound so…?” She exhaled. “I don’t know. Unlike yourself.”

I wanted to vent.

To tell her how things felt different now.

How Hassani was constantly away from home. How he kept canceling on me. How I wasn’t sure if I was overreacting or if something was actually wrong.

But it all just sounded so stupid to say out loud.

Instead, I said, “I just wish you were here tonight.”

My voice wobbled a little, surprising even me.

“I wish you were here any night. It’s like trying to find Carmen Sandiego with you.”

She hollered a laugh, and I couldn’t help but laugh too.

When the humor settled, I sighed. “I miss you, Aunt Laurie. A lot . The last time I saw you was… God … I think summer of 2020.”

“Has it really been three years already?” she mused, mostly to herself. “It couldn’t have been that long ago.”

I frowned. “It was.”

“Well, shit.” She clicked her tongue. “Guess I gotta change that now, don’t I?”

I pulled into our driveway, cutting the engine. My eyes lifted to our house, its beautiful blend of wood, stone, and glass glowing under the soft porch lights.

I was staring directly at Hassani’s imagination. His creation.

And for the first time…

I wasn’t eager to go inside.

Because I knew I’d be going in alone.

“I know tonight wasn’t easy for you,” Aunt Laurie said gently. “Seeing your mama with someone new… I’m sure that was hard.”

“ So hard, Aunt Laurie.” I dropped my head against the headrest, shutting my eyes. “But she looked so happy.”

I swallowed. “And I swear, that was the only thing that got me through dinner tonight.”

“She will always love your daddy, you hear me?”

I pressed my lips together, my eyes stinging.

I blinked fast, trying to keep the tears at bay.

But some emotions don’t listen to reason.

“But your mama… she held out for a long time , Ayla.”

“I know.”

“She was perfectly fine never knowing love again,” Aunt Laurie added. “That’s how hard she took your father’s passing.”

I nodded, even though she couldn’t see me. “I know.”

“You know…” She sighed. “The hardest part of moving on isn’t learning how to let go. It’s knowing that moving forward doesn’t mean you’re leaving them behind.”

A tear slipped down my face, and I was quick to wipe it away.

“Now, I haven’t met Warren,” she continued. “But I’ve spoken to him a few times, and he seems like he gets it. He’s not trying to replace anyone. He respects the place your father still has in your mother’s heart. And for that, he’s all right with me.”

“Me too,” I whispered.

I cleared my throat a second later, forcing myself to push past the lump forming there. “Anyway, I just got home. Hassani had to work late, so… it’s just gonna be me tonight.”

Aunt Laurie sighed softly. “Call me if you need to talk some more, okay?”

I nodded again. “I will.”

As soon as I ended the call, I slumped against my seat’s headrest, fixing my eyes on the house in front of me.

Tears blurred my vision, making the once-crisp edges of our home waver like a mirage.

And then, just like that… I was crying. Really crying.

I couldn’t even tell if it was because life as I knew it was shifting—watching my mother find love again—or if it was because I felt like I was being left behind.

By her.

By Hassani.

* * *

HASSANI

Hours Later…

I turned the steering wheel and gave the car a little more gas as I rolled up to our house.

Tonight had been hell.

Between the stress of working late and the growing pressure to keep the Greene Gardens Project on schedule, I was teetering on the edge. And this was only the first few phases of the project.

That was not a good sign.

I pulled into the driveway and noticed Ayla’s car parked.

I figured she’d already be inside, but as I pulled up beside her car, expecting to see the house lights dimmed, I was surprised to find her still sitting in her car behind the wheel.

I shifted into park, peering through the glass, and the look she shot me made me jerk my head back.

I was ready to lower my window and say something, but before I could, Ayla shoved her driver’s side door open, stepped out, and slammed it behind her.

Didn’t say a word.

Didn’t even glance my way.

Just stormed toward the house, walked up the stone path, and…

SLAM .

The door shut behind her with enough force to shake the frame.

I exhaled through my nose, shutting my eyes.

Fuck .

I was not in the mood for this.

Not tonight.

I ran a hand down my mouth, willing the tension in my body to ease as I grabbed my laptop bag and stepped out of the car.

I tried to leave the office early. Ayla had been reminding me about this dinner at her mother’s for weeks. She said she mentioned it even earlier than that, but honestly? I couldn’t remember.

Things had been chaotic. The project was at a critical stage, and keeping everything on track meant long hours.

But I did try to leave.

I even told my team earlier in the day that I had to go, but then…

“The vendor sent the wrong tiles for the community center flooring,” Harper informed me, dropping a folder onto my desk.

I let out a slow breath, already feeling the headache forming behind my eyes.

“I really think this can wait,” I grumbled, already reaching for my bag. “I need to get out of here.”

“You have to approve the alternative,” Harper insisted, nudging the papers toward me. “You need to review the swatches now.”

I clenched my jaw.

“Damn,” I groaned.

“Ayla will understand,” Harper added casually, giving me one of those looks. “She has to. She knows how huge your role is here. It trumps a dinner. No matter how important she thinks it is.”

I inhaled sharply.

“No one truly understands the weight of this project like you and I do,” she went on, a small smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. “But they will when they see what we create together.”

At the time, I agreed with her.

But standing here now feeling the weight of Ayla’s anger in the silence of our house… I wasn’t so sure.

I stepped inside, shutting the door behind me. The air in the house felt thick, like it had absorbed all the tension from earlier and refused to let it go.

The lights were on, most of them. I could hear movement in the kitchen.

I exhaled slowly before making my way toward her.

“How was the dinner?” I asked, stepping into the kitchen.

Ayla didn’t flinch.

Didn’t acknowledge me.

Didn’t even pause what she was doing, pulling dishes from the dishwasher, stacking them in the cabinet with slow, precise movements.

I sighed, setting my laptop bag down on the counter like I did every night.

“I’m sorry I missed it,” I started, keeping my voice calm. “Approving the alternative flooring took longer than I expected.”

Nothing.

Not even a glance.

Ayla just kept going , stacking dish after dish like she had to keep moving or she’d snap.

I clenched my jaw.

She was mad mad… again.

And I wasn’t sure if I had the energy to deal with it.

Ayla shook her head as she closed the dishwasher, her movements stiff and clipped.