Checking Nana’s not watching us, I lean toward Rachel. “How’s wedding planning going?”
Rachel drags her eyes from Petros’s bum. “Most of the important stuff is sorted, except for my dress. You’re still able to come wedding dress shopping next Monday, right?”
My interview flashes to mind. Though I should be done by then. “Wouldn’t miss it,” I reply.
“Now, where are you guys at with planning my bridal shower? And why haven’t you responded to my group message?”
“Don’t worry, cuz. Ola, Nana and I are on it.” That’s if you can call setting up a separate WhatsApp group which we’ve barely used as being “on it.”
“Ooh, speaking of Ola,” Rachel says after she checks her phone. “She should be here any sec.” She shifts a tentative glance at me. “You guys made up yet?”
I shake my head. “Not yet.” Nana calls up the next model. “I was hoping to speak to her today. You know, in person.” I rub my thighs. I hope I don’t make a fudge of it.
“Okay, good.” Rachel stops her handbag from sliding off her lap. “Because I don’t want my bridesmaids bickering on my wedding day. Oh, and, what I said about Ola and Jon—”
“I won’t say anything.”
I return her smile, then shift my attention to the center of the room where an attractive model with voluminous red hair is strutting her stuff. A second later, the doorbell rings.
“That must be Ola.” Rachel clambers to her feet.
“Let me get it.” I jump out of my chair and power walk down the corridor, passing a kitchen where a cleaner is loading a dishwasher with mugs that were used earlier today.
The bell is still going. Through the glass door, I can see Ola’s kids giggling. But where’s Ola? I twist the lock and open the door.
“Aunty Yinka! Aunty Yinka!” The kids make a mad dash for my legs. The youngest, Daniel, is hugging one knee, while the middle child, Jacob, is squeezing the other. Ruth, the eldest of the bunch, wraps her arms around my waist, and I lower my head and peck her cornrows.
“Hey, sweeties,” I say. “Where’s your mum?” Jacob and Daniel completely ignore me and run into the building, Ruth tailing behind.
“Kids! No running, please!”
Ola’s voice snaps my head around, and wow.
“Ola! Look at your hair.”
For the first time in a long time, Ola has her natural hair out like the RnB singer Ari Lennox, only her afro puff ponytail isn’t quite as long. I’m not used to seeing Ola without a weave. It’s like we switched places.
“The kids aren’t staying,” she says, leaning in to my shoulders to give me the tiniest of hugs. “My mum couldn’t babysit, and I needed a ride, so we had no choice but to bring the kids along.” She slithers past me and I watch her ankle boots clack against the floorboards down the hallway.
“Yeah, sorry we’re late.” Jon appears by the entrance wearing a navy Barbour jacket and beige chinos.
“Oh, hey, Jon. How’s it going?” I push what Rachel told me to the back of my mind. I give him a quick hug, then smooth my hand over my blouse to neaten it.
“I’m good, thanks,” he says, then blinks. “Oh, wow, you changed your hair again!”
Right at the same time that he says this, I realize that the attractive model with red hair is now standing behind me, a cigarette and lighter in hand.
“Sorry, excuse me,” she says. Jon and I step back so that she can pass. I look over my shoulder: Ola, kids in tow, is watching Jon like a hawk.
“Guys, say good-bye to your mum,” he says.
Ola is a different person when she hugs her kids good-bye. She gives each child a loud, wet kiss and giggles.
“Come on, kids. Let’s go.” Jon is about to turn, then stops. “See you later, gorgeous.” He kisses Ola on the cheek, and like a teenager she glances down, suppressing a tiny smile.
“Come on, kiddos. Let’s get some McDonald’s.” Jon turns to leave as the kids break out in loud cheers. “Bye, Yinka.”
“Bye, now.” I close the door.
As I twist the lock, I think of my next move. It might be easier if I apologize. Keep it short and sweet.
“Ola.” I turn around. “I’m—”
“Sorry,” she finishes. Wait, is she saying that she’s—
“I’m sorry,” she repeats. “For overreacting, for how I behaved. I can be a right drama queen, can’t I?” She looks sincere.
“No, I’m the one who should be apologizing. What I said at Nando’s . . . it was insensitive and inconsiderate. But Ola, I didn’t mean to be.”
“It’s okay.” Ola shrugs and a stretch of silence follows.
Sooo, is this the part where we hug?
I test the waters by taking a step forward. Ola doesn’t budge.
Fine, at least we’ve made a breakthrough. A small one, but still something.
“Where’s Nana and Rachel?” she says.
“Follow the music.” I smile.
* * *
—
The models have gone, and Nana has decided that since Ola and I are here, she might as well take our measurements for the bridesmaids’ dresses. I’m up first and stand in the center of the room. Nana crouches in front of me, winding a measuring tape around my hips. Thirty-eight inches. Hmm. Does this mean my bum is growing? Ola and Rachel are sitting nearby, their feet propped up on a chair.
“How do you think the casting went?” Ola fluffs the end of her afro puff.
“Good,” says Nana. “But I only liked a couple of the male models.”
“Did Petros make the cut?” Rachel wails.
“Yes, Petros made the cut,” Nana replies sardonically, and we laugh. “Well, I guess I can always ask my cousins,” she adds, moving on to measure my height.
“Or”—Rachel quirks a brow—“you can rope in Yinka’s lover boy. Hey, don’t think I don’t see you blushing over there.”
I pull a face. “Rachel. I’m Black.”
“Naw. You don’t say.”
“Lover boy?” Ola laughs. “So, what, you and Alex together now?”
“Not yet.” I smile. “But we will be soon. Oh my gosh, Ola. I’ve got so much to tell you. Where should I start? Did Rachel tell you that we’re following each other on Instagram?”
I whip out my phone with pride and excitement.
“And that’s not all,” I say after locating Alex’s Instagram. I tell Nana to pause for one sec, then I hand my phone to Ola. “Guess who has a date?”
Rachel gasps.
“And not just on any day, but on Valentine’s Day.” After doing a mini-dance, I give the girls a full update of our conversation after church and meeting his mum—everything.
“Babes, this so exciting!” Rachel says. I can always rely on good ol’ Rachel to be super-excited for me. “Seems like your new weave has given you confidence, huh?”
“More like your new look,” Nana says under her breath, as she presses her measuring tape against Ola’s leg.
I narrow my eyes at her as I sit down. “He complimented the dress you made, by the way.”