LITMIR.BIZ

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her finger against his arm. “Yes,” she said. “You would.” But she was still taken by his childlike pucker and smiled.

      Clyde’s was packed, and when she got to see the atmosphere, she understood why. It was lively, but it was quiet enough to talk, and they did have just about everything.

      Michelle rolled her shoulders and stretched her head to either side after they sat down.

      “I’m so glad I didn’t have to work today. I got so much done.”

      “Tired?”

      “No, I just needed a stretch.”

      “How do you manage on what you make at the coffeehouse, even as a manager? Is that too personal to ask? You don’t have to answer.”

      “No, that’s fine. I would wonder if I wasn’t me. I get some child support and alimony from my ex-husband, and between that and work, I can pay for things around the house. For school I take out student loans, and my cousin Nigel helps a little with that. He’s...wonderful, and he’s like you—giving. I can only imagine what I’ll need to pay him back.”

      Rashad took her hand, and Michelle felt a tingle move up her spine.

      “He wants you to pay him back?”

      “No, but I will. I wouldn’t feel right if I didn’t. He tells me that we’re family, and that if anything, I should ‘pay it forward,’ like the movie, where you help someone else. But I will pay him back.”

      “I can tell you will. What are your plans for your career?”

      “I don’t know in detail. Right now I’m just working on finishing my degree and making myself as marketable as possible. That’s why I want a good portfolio for school. I’m hoping that I can get a good entry-level job and keep moving upward.”

      “Do you save for Andre’s education?”

      “Actually, I do, out of child support. I couldn’t before, but I do now. It means sticking to a tight budget, but I’m used to that.”

      Michelle saw the question in Rashad’s eyes, but she didn’t want to say more about the past and was glad that he let it go.

      “Are there plans for your career?” she asked.

      Rashad started caressing her fingers, and Michelle felt herself shudder. It was so sensual, like it had been on their other dinner date. Michelle couldn’t keep from caressing back. She couldn’t stop the heat from rising in the pit of her stomach.

      “I make a decent living now, but I think I’ll want more when I have a family, and I want to do more artistic work. Right now my goal is to keep doing good work and expanding my credentials so that I can get those pay increases and maybe open my own design firm one day.”

      “That’s a good plan once you’ve gotten as far as you have.”

      Michelle felt another twinge of jealousy, but she let it go. She would be okay one day. She didn’t expect Rashad’s next line of inquiry.

      “What’s it like raising a son? What is Andre like?”

      “Andre is a sweet pea, as much as he’s been through.”

      She’d said too much again, dang it. She had to stop opening the door to things she wanted to forget. She hoped that Rashad had missed it or would let it pass, but he didn’t.

      “What has he been through, Michelle?”

      She wanted to say something that would close the door on that question, but she didn’t know what.

      “He... My marriage was difficult, and it ended badly. That’s not the example I wanted to set for my child, but he’s just a sweet kid—in spite of all that.”

      Rashad nodded and let the question pass, and Michelle was grateful.

      “But raising a child is wonderful. It’s so much responsibility. His whole life right now is up to me. I don’t know how to explain it.”

      “I think I know what you mean.”

      “And the love of a child is totally unconditional. It’s...a blessing. I guess I’m not really religious, but I don’t know any other word.”

      To show his understanding, Rashad rubbed her hand. When he was finished, Michelle went back to caressing his fingers. She liked that better. She saw the look in his eyes when she did it, and he seemed to like it better, as well.

      Their dinner arrived, and Michelle shook her head to get out of her thoughts. She and Rashad let go of each other’s hands and pulled them from the table to get ready to eat. She had ordered catfish, and Rashad had gotten steak.

      “One day we have to come back here for their burgers,” he said. “I’ve heard they’re great, but there’s so much to choose from that all the times I’ve been here, I’ve gotten something else.”

      “Have you been here often?”

      “Sometimes my brothers and I come here before or after a game or if we get together on a weekend.”

      “You and your brothers sound close.”

      “I guess we are, as much as they rib me.”

      “I wish I had a sister. Or a brother. Any sibling. I guess my cousin and his wife are as close as I come to that.”

      “Then I’m glad you have them. I want to meet them sometime.”

      “I hope you will. They’re great people. Without Nigel, I wouldn’t be in D.C. He was here first and helped me make the move. He drove me home to get more of my things. He helped me out financially until I had an income. He helped me get used to a more northern, more urban landscape. He encouraged me to go to Howard. He continues to help me with paying for it. He’s been a godsend.”

      “One day,” Rashad said, “I hope you’ll feel close enough to me to let me help you.”

      “One day, I hope I won’t need you—or anyone else—to help me.”

      “That day is coming.”

      “I know,” Michelle said. “And I guess I know all that I’ve actually done on my own, as well.”

      “Exactly. You made the move. You’re taking the classes and working and raising a son. You’re my hero.”

      Michelle was touched by Rashad’s words.

      “I just have to remember to celebrate all that while I strive for more.”

      “Amen.”

      They ate quietly for a while, and the peace between them wasn’t interrupted until their waiter came to offer them dessert.

      “Let’s split something,” Michelle suggested.

      “What? I could go for apple pie.”

      “I don’t think so. Not when there’s something called Chocolate Blackout Cake on the menu.”

      “I should have known about the chocolate,” Rashad said, shaking his head.

      Michelle laughed. “Yes indeed.” She turned to the waiter. “We’ll split the chocolate cake and ice cream.”

      “Yes, ma’am.”

      Michelle ate most of the cake, and Rashad had most of the ice cream. After that, they headed to the movie theater, selected the new version of Les Misérables and found a relatively unoccupied row in the back of the theater to watch it.

      Rashad had brought his sweater, and Michelle was already wearing hers, but it was still chilly. Not long after the film started, she slipped her hands into Rashad’s open cardigan to warm them. His chest heaved under her touch, and he glanced toward her.

      “Sorry,” she said. “I just wanted to warm my hands.”

      “No need for apologies. I don’t

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