ChapterThirteen
1340 Words
Two Tables
By Friday afternoon, Amara had changed her mind about what to wear three times.
Not because she was nervous.
Obviously.
She was standing in the small wardrobe area of her private resting room at the studio when Zina called.
Amara answered on speaker while fastening a bracelet.
“You’re going out with him tonight.”
Amara looked at the phone.
“How do you know?”
“Because you ignored my first two calls and answered the third while sounding suspiciously pretty.”
“That makes no sense.”
“It makes perfect sense. Is it Tobe?”
Amara smiled despite herself.
Zina gasped.
“That silence answered me.”
“We’re having dinner.”
“A date?”
Amara reached for her bag.
“Yes.”
The word felt different now that she had said it aloud.
“Finally,” Zina said. “Please try not to turn it into a board meeting.”
“Tell him that.”
“I would, but I like you alive.”
Amara laughed and ended the call.
Her phone lit up almost immediately.
Seven-thirty. I’m downstairs.
She checked the time.
Seven twenty-seven.
You’re early.
Three minutes.
That is early.
Come downstairs, Amara.
There he was.
Tobe was waiting beside the car when she stepped out of the studio.
He looked up, and the expression on his face made her slow down.
Tonight she wore a deep green wrap dress, simple gold earrings and heels she had chosen partly because they were beautiful and partly because she refused to let one rainy evening permanently affect her footwear.
Tobe’s gaze moved over her once.
Then again.
“You’re staring.”
“I know.”
“Still trying honesty?”
“It’s going well.”
He opened the passenger door for her.
Amara paused beside him.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
She got in, hiding a smile.
The restaurant was intimate without trying too hard—soft lighting, quiet music and enough distance between tables that conversations stayed private.
When they arrived, Tobe got out first, walked around the car and opened her door before she could touch the handle.
Amara looked up at him.
“You know I can open doors.”
“I know.”
“Then why do you keep doing that?”
His expression barely changed.
“Because I want to.”
That answer followed her all the way inside.
Dinner started with an argument about whether Amara had deliberately ordered the most complicated item on the menu.
“It has six lines of description,” Tobe said.
“That is not my fault.”
“You chose it.”
“I appreciate detail.”
“You complained when I gave you a twelve-page review of your supplier structure.”
“That was unnecessary detail.”
“Interesting distinction.”
She narrowed her eyes.
“Do not bring advisory documents into my date.”
Tobe went still for half a second.
My date.
Amara realized what she had said at the same moment he did.
His mouth curved.
“Your date?”
“Don’t be difficult.”
“I haven’t said anything.”
“Your face has.”
“I’m having an excellent evening.”
“I can see that.”
Later, when dessert arrived, Tobe pushed the plate slightly towards her.
“You ordered it,” Amara said.
“You’ve been looking at it for thirty seconds.”
“I was not.”
“You were.”
She took a spoonful.
“I hate how much you notice.”
“No, you don’t.”
Amara looked at him.
He held her gaze.
This time, she didn’t argue.
A little while later, Tobe leaned back.
“Are you free on Sunday?”
There it was.
Exactly where it made sense.
Amara set down her glass.
“I have family lunch.”
“Your family?”
“Mine and the Ezes.”
Tobe’s expression remained calm.
Too calm.
“Kene’s family.”
“Yes.”
He nodded once.
Amara watched him.
“You can say it.”
“Say what?”
“Whatever is happening behind that very controlled face.”
Tobe looked at her for a moment.
Then he sighed.
“I don’t particularly enjoy hearing his name.”
Amara’s lips twitched.
“That sounds almost like jealousy.”
“It is jealousy.”
Her smile disappeared.
Not because she disliked the answer.
Quite the opposite.
Tobe continued before she could respond.
“I’m not proud of it. I’m also not going to pretend it isn’t there.”
Amara studied him.
“It’s a family lunch, Tobe.”
“I know.”
“Kene has been part of our families for years.”
“I know that too.”
“And?”
He reached across the table and touched her fingers.
“And I trust you.”
Simple.
No demand.
No warning.
No attempt to tell her where she could go or who she could see.
Something warm settled in Amara’s chest.
She turned her hand beneath his so their fingers fitted properly.
“Good answer.”
“I wasn’t aware I was being tested.”
“You always are.”
“That explains a lot.”
When he drove her home, the city was quieter.
Tobe parked, got out and came around to open her door.
Amara stepped out but did not move away.
He stood close enough that she could smell his cologne.
“Thank you for dinner,” she said.
“You’re welcome.”
“And for behaving very maturely about Sunday.”
Tobe looked offended.
“I am a mature man.”
“You once sulked because I called your music an expensive hotel playlist.”
“That was an attack on my character.”
She laughed.
Tobe’s hand settled lightly at her waist.
“Amara.”
“Hmm?”
“You’re laughing too much.”
“What are you going to do about it?”
He kissed her.
Slowly this time.
Without surprise or interruption.
When he drew back, her hands were resting against his chest.
“That,” he said.
Amara looked at him.
“Very mature.”
He laughed against her forehead.
Sunday arrived with less romance and considerably more food.
Amara knew something was wrong the moment she walked into her parents’ dining room and saw the seating arrangement.
Her mother had placed her beside Kene.
Of course she had.
Chief and Mrs Eze were already there, warm and familiar, speaking with her parents as though the years between family lunches had never existed.
Kene stood when Amara entered.
“Mara.”
He hugged her briefly.
“You came on time. I’m impressed.”
“My mother threatened me.”
“Auntie has always been effective.”
The lunch was easy at first.
Old stories.
Business.
People they both remembered from childhood.
Then Mrs Eze smiled across the table.
“Look at these two. We used to say they would grow up and save us the trouble of looking for in-laws.”
Amara’s fork stopped.
Her mother laughed.
“You remember?”
“How could I forget?”
Kene looked at Amara.
Something in his expression was amused.
But not entirely.
Amara set down her fork.
“I’m glad both of you made plans for our lives while we were busy learning multiplication.”
Everyone laughed.
The moment passed.
Mostly.
Under the table, Amara’s phone buzzed inside her bag.
She ignored it until lunch was over.
Later, standing alone near the hallway, she checked the screen.
Tobe.
I hope the family lunch survived you.
Amara smiled.
Barely.
A second message appeared.
And Kene?
She stared at it.
Then typed:
Still alive, unfortunately for your jealousy.
The reply came quickly.
I said I trusted you. I said nothing about liking him.
Amara laughed under her breath.
From the dining room, her mother called her name.
Her phone beeped, Tobe sent one more message.
Dinner this week. No family members.
Amara’s smile widened.
Now that sounded like an excellent plan.
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