Page 76 of Reticent

“So, you’re kind of stuck with us.” Fatima rummages through her bag for her phone. “Give me your number.”

“Me too,” Novalee says, taking out her phone.

I don’t have my phone on me, but I give them my phone number so they can text me theirs.

Like Novalee and Fatima, I don’t have a huge circle of friends. But I’m ready to grow my circle, and Novalee and Fatima are the kind of ladies I can see myself doing that for. The three of us make plans to get together at Fatima’s penthouse next Sunday if I’m still pregnant. If being the operative word. Neither one of them think I will be for much longer.

After I finish my cake, I push myself up. It’s getting a lot harder these days. The crowd around Daryl is clearing, so I head that way. He notices me and meets me halfway.

“Yasmine Clark.” Daryl shows off bright white teeth behind a wide grin and smooth chocolatey skin that the girls go crazy for.

“Hey, D.”

He pulls me into a warm hug. “How the hell are you?”

I hug him back. “I’m good. How was your flight?”

“Shitty. It was delayed.”

I break away from our hug. “How long are you in town for?”

“Just today.” His gaze shifts over my head. “Who’s your friend?”

“Which one?”

“Redbone with the glasses, looking like a sexy librarian.”

My gaze settles on Skylar, who’s talking to Novalee. “She’s my sister. Skylar.”

“Is that right?” Daryl rubs his chin, looking at her like he wants to throw her over his shoulder.

“I can introduce you, but you should know, she has a boyfriend.”

“Is he here?”

I gape at him. “No. It’s like that, D?”

Daryl continues to regard her with a sideways glance. “She’s fine as fuck. Damn.”

“D,” Hunter calls out from the front entrance.

“What’s up, Hunt!”

“Get your ass out here and help load the car,” Hunter says as Jordyn stacks his arms with more presents.

“Nigga, don’t you see I’m talking to your girl? Hold up.”

I snort. “Really?”

Daryl winks. “He knows he can’t say it back.”

That’s not what I’m talking about. “Go catch up with your boy. I’ll check you later.”

“Cool.” Daryl kisses my cheek, his lips lingering there for almost an inappropriate amount of time before he shoots Hunter a wry grin.

I look back at Hunter. If looks could kill, Daryl would be dead right now.

“You’re a mess, D.”