Chapter 7“Any plans this weekend?” Michael asked over coffee and sandwiches one Friday at the tail end of July. He lifted the second half of his chicken caprese sandwich to his mouth and took a huge bite.
“It’s my dad’s birthday,” Devante said. “So I’m cooking dinner on Sunday night.”
Michael’s eyes went wide, but his mouth was still full of sandwich. Several moments of mastication later, he swallowed and said, “That’s great! What are you cooking?”
“Gumbo,” Devante said. “It’s his favorite. It’s gonna take all day but it’ll feed us for a week afterward.”
Michael gave a little moan that set Devante’s neck under his collar hot. “Mmm, delicious. How old is he turning?”
“Forty-seven.”
He could see Michael doing the math. “He must have had you really young, then.”
“Yup,” Devante said. “H
