Page 3 of The Dating Prohibition

“Not Stanley, silly. BJ was asking about you,” Lani whispered, her arm entwined with Kendra’s to keep her from slipping again.

BJ? Kendra’s face screwed up into a giant question mark. “Huh? Why?”

Her cousin shrugged. “I’ve been clocking it for the last week. Anytime your name was brought up, he was all ears.”

“I mean, we’ve known the guy a long time, so that doesn’t feel out of the ordinary to me. We haven’t seen each other in years.”

Kendra’s last post before her travels was in Silicon Valley. She often returned home for the holidays, but BJ always went

to be with his parents in Charlotte. When Kendra had been laid off from her role as a chief data officer for a thriving startup

that was absorbed by a tech giant, she’d taken her generous severance package and savings to do some soul-searching around

the globe. BJ had checked in once in a while to ask where she was and how she was doing. He’d always been thoughtful in that

way.

After visiting family in Thailand and the Philippines, Kendra went to parts of Europe and finished off her trip in New Orleans spending quality time with her Granny.

Each destination brought her new adventures and lessons in the culinary world and in determining what tools she would use to pave her path.

Everyone in the family had built a legacy in their own way, and it finally felt like Kendra’s turn.

“There’s my ray of sunshine!” Kendra’s dad opened his arms and wrapped her into a warm hug, the scent of tobacco smoke lingering

on his jacket.

She squeezed him tight, tucking her chin for her father to kiss her forehead. “Daddy! Mmm, what cigar were you smoking? It

smells spicy.”

“Your brother bought me a box of maduros, so we decided to have some coffee and sample them before we got started today.”

Her dad’s bronzed skin and thick, straight hair was tousled with some sort of product. Born in Los Angeles to a Filipino mother

and a Thai father, he was the embodiment of California, wearing a jean jacket over a light sweater and slacks. When he met

his wife, Regina, at George Washington University, he embraced DC with her, setting down roots, eventually convincing Auntie

Al and Uncle Ronnie to move up from New Orleans to experience all four seasons. Their time in DC was cut short as they moved

back to New Orleans when they started their family––free childcare was worth the return, thanks to Granny and PawPaw.

Once Kendra and Logan were old enough to fend for themselves, Braxton and Regina moved back into their DC home, which they’d rented out while down south.

Auntie Mack fell in love with Charleston, and Kendra’s maternal grandmother remained in New Orleans alone now that PawPaw had passed.

Her paternal grandparents remained in Los Angeles, giving her a reason to get some California sunshine whenever possible, but she’d caught them on their annual trip to visit family during her time in Asia.

“That’s a bold move to start with a maduro, but you know I like those. Especially if the coffee happened to be Irish.” Kendra shared a knowing glance

with her father as she pulled back, his arm still around her waist.

Braxton Porter kissed his daughter’s cheek, lowering his voice to barely a whisper before winking at her mischievously. “Your

brother and I may have already had an Irish coffee or two out on the patio. Don’t tell your mother.”

Kendra giggled, raising her hands in surrender. “Your secret is safe with me.” They walked toward the bar area, which was

painted a deep emerald green with creamy quartz countertops and golden fixtures. The herringbone pattern in the cherrywood

flooring gleamed with gradients of reddish browns. “Wow, this place is gorgeous,” she gushed.

Natural light flooded in through massive picture windows dressed with velvet curtains the color of the faintest blush. On

the windowsills were decorative vases and small plants, like succulents and snake plants—ones that didn’t require a lot of

attention. On the walls were several blown-up photographs from Logan and Shonda’s travels as they’d hit different countries

on their bucket list and sampled different cuisines to find the right balance of flavors to feature on their menu of global

fare. BJ had busied himself hanging another portrait, and Kendra studied his profile, taking in the broadness of his shoulders

and the way his Henley sleeves were pushed up to his forearms, the fabric over his chest and arms hugging his physique. This man just gets better with age...

“Yo, can you chill, cuz? You are lookin’ at him like he’s a four-course meal and you wanna come back for seconds...”

Kendra froze, her neck and cheeks immediately coloring at Lani’s observation.

“Say it louder, I think the kitchen staff didn’t hear you!

” Kendra hissed, her attention snapping away from the strong arms lifting a black-and-white photograph of a wine cellar full of barrels on a long wall leading toward the unisex bathrooms.

BJ glanced in her direction before returning to his task and leveling the frame. Heat crawled up the column of Kendra’s throat,

her skin boiling as she stared her cousin down.

“If he heard you, I swear on all things holy that I will tell your mom all about how her favorite cashmere sweater got ruined.”

Kendra wiggled her fingers like she was casting a spell on her cousin.

“You wouldn’t...” Lani’s eyes darted around in a panic. As teenagers, she and Kendra snuck out to meet some boys, and Lani

swiped her mom’s ultrasoft cardigan to wear over a barely there tank top and coochie cutters. The fast heffa swore the sweater

added a level of sophistication to her look. Suffice it to say that it was St. Patty’s Day, and she spilled a green pint of

beer on the luxe creamy knit, leaving a giant mint-colored swatch that she couldn’t explain. Instead, Lani framed the family

dog and asserted that he’d dragged the sweater outside into the grass. Auntie Mack was devastated.

Kendra’s sinister smile spread like the Grinch stealing Christmas. “Try me.”