Page 237 of The Sweetest Return

She gave me one back with more authority.

Tasha had been with me since my third year with the Forge. She cooked when my schedule got ugly, fussed when my refrigerator looked like somebody rich and irresponsible lived alone, and had decided Imani needed feeding as much as I did.

Tasha and Imani had their own little alliance now. The week before, Mani had pulled her aside and asked what I liked after a long day these days. Not what I ate in college. Not what Mama used to send back to campus with us. What I reached for now.

I came home that Thursday to find her at my stove with Tasha talking her through lemon-herb chicken and sweet potatoes, Imani concentrating on that pan like it had personally challenged her. She tried to play dinner off when I walked in.

I ate two plates and let her pretend I didn't understand what she'd done.

I didn’t argue with women who knew where the knives were.

The lock clicked at seven twenty-six.

I looked up before I could stop myself.

Tasha smiled into the pot. “Mmhmm.”

“Don’t start.”

“Too late.”

Imani walked in carrying her work bag, her coat over one arm, and the kind of tired smile that made me want to find out who had annoyed her and handle it before dinner.

“Something smells amazing,” she said.

Tasha turned from the stove. “Because I am here.”

Imani laughed, and my kitchen felt better.

She belonged in here too easily. Purse on my counter. Coat over one of my chairs. Bracelets catching light near the sink. Voice mixing with Tasha’s like this was already part of the house and all I had to do was stop acting surprised by it.

She had started fitting at Mama’s the same way. The Sunday before, I walked into the den and found Mani on the floor between Danielle’s knees while Dani worked one braid loose at a time. Kayla sat cross-legged beside them, serious as hell about unraveling the few ends they trusted her with. Hair was everywhere. Mama was talking over all three of them from the recliner, and nobody looked up like Imani being there needed explaining.

I stood in the doorway long enough for Danielle to ask if I planned to help or just stare.

“You eat today?” Tasha asked.

Imani paused.

Tasha pointed the spoon at her. “Guilty.”

“I had coffee.”

“That is not food.”

“And almonds.”

“That is what birds eat when they’re depressed.”

I looked away before I laughed too hard.

Imani cut her eyes toward me. “You’re enjoying this.”

“I’m listening.”

“You’re smirking.”

“Because she’s right.”