A Love Song for Ricki Wilde (91)

Ezra’s eyes widened. And Ricki’s squeezed shut.

This was not happening. No. There was too much going on. Ricki was three days from certain death, quietly withering under Ms. Della’s silent treatment, and attempting to fuck her soulmate for one of the last times ever. She couldn’t take this on! Why the hell were the Witches of Eastwick at her shop?

Ezra just stood there in his bare-chested glory, his face registering awe and panic.

“What,” started Ricki, “the absolute fuck are y’all doing here?”

“We were in town for business, and we wanted to see your shop. And you.” Rashida then pointed at Ezra without taking her eyes off Ricki. “Are you aware there’s a shirtless himbo wielding a lethal weapon behind you? What kind of establishment are you running here?”

Delighted judgment flickered in Rashidaginarae’s eyes. Ricki was all too familiar with this look. Wearily, she gestured at Ezra to come over. With a winning smile, Ezra placed the candlestick on the table and joined Ricki at the door.

“He isn’t a himbo; he’s my boyfriend.” “Boyfriend” was too slight a word, but she was too emotionally frazzled to think of another. “Ezra, meet my sisters, Alvin, Simon, and Theodore.”

“Ricki, I swear to God.”

“Sorry. Ezra, this is Rashida, Regina, and Rae.”

“Pleasure’s mine,” he said jovially, shaking each of their hands and trying to approximate some level of normality. “Come on in out the cold.”

“No, stay in the cold,” intercepted Ricki, holding up her hand to stop them. “Tell me why you’re here.”

“Why so suspicious?” asked Regina, who was holding up her iPhone and snapping pics with the demented urgency of a fan who’d later sell the pics to TMZ. Ricki tried to grab it, but Regina dodged her.

“We wanted to see you! And your shop.” Rae peered behind Ricki. “It’s… eclectic. And wow, so much greenery.”

“Like a cosmopolitan Rainforest Cafe,” added Rashida.

Ricki glared at her. “Well, we’re closed. There’s nothing to see here.”

Rashida adjusted her Louis Vuitton Speedy bag on her shoulder. “Are you really going to turn away your flesh and blood after we traveled economy class to visit our baby sister?”

“Also, I’m starving,” announced Regina, pursing her lips and finally lowering her phone.

Ricki and Ezra looked at each other. These women were not budging. And just like that, Ricki slipped into an old habit. Being around her family turned her back into that sixteen-year-old who wanted so desperately to please them. To be accepted, to be validated. Even though she always came up short, she always tried.

“Fine. Do you… um… How about we go to dinner? Le Bernardin or Jean-Georges? They’re legendary New York City restaurants. Michelin stars, very elite.”

“Oh, spare us. New York’s culinary scene is no chicer than Atlanta’s,” Rashida said with a sigh. “You’ve lived here for five minutes—calm down. And by the way, your shirt’s on inside out.”

With that, the sisters pushed past Ricki and Ezra and stormed into the shop, wandering around and touching everything.

“We don’t want to go to a restaurant; we want to see your place,” said Rae. “Invite us over for dinner! Where do you live?”

“I live… here,” said Ricki quietly.

“In your shop?” Rae was horrified. “This is worse than we thought.”

“No! Behind the shop, behind that back door. But it’s so small, I don’t think…”

Ricki’s stomach sank. She wasn’t prepared for her sisters to see her extremely humble private sanctuary. She shared a quick, furtive glance with Ezra. And his eyes were so open and welcoming, she almost burst into tears. For as much time as we have, he’d said to her that morning, I’ve got you.

He calmed her down just with one look, automatically understanding the stress and anxiety her sisters brought her. And he’d take care of it. He took care of everything.

“I have an idea,” said Ezra. “Why don’t I make y’all dinner?”

“Where?” asked Ricki, Rashida, Regina, and Rae.

“Here,” he told them. “I’m an excellent cook. Where are you staying?”

“The Wallace Hotel,” answered the eldest sister.

“That’s just a fifteen-minute ride down Amsterdam. Tell you what, if you go back there for a couple hours, it’ll give me time to grab some groceries and get it ready. Uber’s on me, round trip.”

Ricki understood that he was also buying her time to emotionally prep.

“I’ll make y’all dinner and then I’ll go home,” continued Ezra, “so you can catch up.”

The three older sisters mulled this over. They were visibly shocked that Ricki was dating a person with actual practical real-life skills. And this was far too interesting a situation for him to go home early.

“But we don’t want you to go home after,” purred Regina, with all the sincerity of the Cheshire Cat. “We want to get to know you better.”

He quickly looked at Ricki, whose eyes were pleading.

“I’ll stay.”


Three hours later, they were all sitting around Ricki’s stoop-sale coffee table on the rickety stools she’d refurbished and hand-painted. Her sisters were in high-judgment mode. Rashida kept asking “Where’s the rest of it?” while Rae marveled at her ability to maximize a space “the size of a Nissan Sentra.” Regina glared at the radiator every time it hissed and clanged.