The waiter came by. “Can I get you anything else?” he asked.
“The check, please,” Alex replied.
The waiter placed the black check folder on the table and walked away. Rashad snatched it up before Alex could.
“What are you doing?” Alex asked.
“Dinner’s on me tonight.”
“You don’t have to do that,” Alex said.
“Sure I do. Besides, if all goes well, I’ll be making a lot of money with a vineyard I bought an hour from here.” He flashed a grin and then lifted the bottle of wine from the table. “One more toast, before the night ends.”
Rashad topped off all the glasses except Sherry’s. They held their wine aloft, while she held up a glass of water.
“What are we toasting to?” Sherry asked.
“To success,” Alex answered.
“To the support of family and friends,” Rashad added.
“To love and new beginnings,” Layla chimed in. Her gaze connected with Rashad’s, and he took her hand under the table.
“Here, here,” he said enthusiastically.
“Here, here!” Sherry and Alex added.
They all four clinked their glasses together.
24
Rashad had never been so nervous in his entire life.
Today was the day that he would meet his mother for the first time since he was a baby. The first time since she left him with his father thirty-three years ago. For the first time in all that time, they would lay eyes on each other, in person.
He and Layla sat in a rented car in a gas station not too far from where his family resided.
Over the last four months, they’d exchanged correspondence, phone calls, and eventually video calls with his mother. While it was true that he looked a lot like his father, he also saw some of his mother in him too. His dark complexion and cheekbones came from her.
She and his younger sister lived in a small, two-bedroom house with his mother’s mother. His sister, Marcy, was their primary caregiver.
He learned that his mother, Ernestine, had tried to find him at various times over the years since he turned eighteen, but she never could. She’d had no idea that he changed his name and thought the fact that she couldn’t find him was for the best because of the story behind his birth.
Layla covered his hand on the gearshift. “You ready?” she asked gently.
He’d insisted that she come because she’d been the catalyst for this reunion. She’d been the reason he finally sent a simple handwritten note on a card to his mother. That had finally culminated in this planned reunion.
“I’m ready.”
He said the words, but the tightness in his stomach betrayed the severity of his fears. He didn’t even know why he was nervous. They’d been in contact for months, yet he worried that rejection could still come. Perhaps when he walked up there and she saw him in the flesh, how much he looked like Chester, she’d change her mind about wanting a relationship with him.
Well, they’d driven over two hundred miles, so he might as well go that last mile to meet his family.
Rashad started the car and pulled out of the gas station and drove down the road past a row of small ranch houses on either side. Clammy palms gripping the wheel, he turned right into the subdivision. The GPS directed him to turn left down Acorn Street, and he followed those instructions. As soon as he did, he no longer needed the directions. He saw the house long before they pulled in front of it.
Outside the little brick ranch, there were red, blue, and yellow balloons tied to the mailbox. More balloons were tied to the railing on the little porch, and a huge welcome sign hung from the gutter that ran along the front.
Rashad eased the car in front of the house. Ernestine, Marcy, and his grandmother Kay were already waiting outside. He looked at Layla and tears burned his eyes when she smiled at him, biting her bottom lip. Without a word, he exited the car and walked toward the three people who were already coming down the driveway.
Ernestine was a tall, heavyset woman with her short Afro salted with gray. Marcy was shorter but thinner, her hair pulled into a thick ponytail. His grandmother Kay shuffled behind them wearing what looked to be her Sunday best, which included a string of pearls and her thin gray hair curled to frame her face.
Rashad stopped walking because his feet no longer could function. Rashad Greene, Mr. Confident, Mr. Suave, lost all his smooth and stood in the middle of the driveway, regressing into a little boy who simply wanted to be accepted. Wanted to be loved.
And he was.
Three sets of arms wrapped around him. He flung his arms around his mother’s neck and held her tight as she cried. He brushed away a tear that fell onto his own cheek as he listened to her sobs. His sister rested her cheek against his bicep, and his grandmother took up the rear, whispering over and over again, “You’re here. You’re finally here.”
When they released him, his mother gazed up into his face, each hand lightly touching his cheeks.
Looking deeply into his eyes, she said, “I never regretted having you. My only regret was not being brave enough to take you with me.”
“It’s okay. I don’t blame you,” Rashad whispered.
He wanted her to know this, though he’d said it before. He needed her to understand that he did not blame her for anything that had happened. The blame for the dissolution of their family and the pain she suffered lay squarely on the shoulders of the man sitting in a Texas prison.
“Layla’s here.” He signaled for Layla, who was standing several feet away, to come forward. She had talked to his family several times via video and on the phone. He slipped an arm around her and pulled her into his side. “As you know, she’s the reason I had the courage to write to you. She’s the best thing that ever happened to me,” he said, gazing down at her.
“Welcome, to you too,” his mother said, and then she treated Layla to a loving hug the same way she did him.
Mother. He had a hard time getting used to thinking in those terms.
They all went inside the small, quaint house. It was very clean and smelled like a bakery. The scent of fresh bread and cake perfumed the air and added to the homey atmosphere.
Rashad had brought a small photo album with pictures of him throughout the years. Over slices of pound cake and tall glasses of iced tea, they spent time going over the photos. He told them stories about his life and his accomplishments. His sister brought out photos as well, pictures of herself and their mother and grandmother over the years.
They spent the rest of the day there, which included eating a delicious dinner of roast, potatoes, and sauteed cabbage. While they talked over dinner and laughed and shared more stories, Rashad learned that his love for baking was a result of genetics. His grandmother used to run a bakery with his grandfather, but they had to close it when they fell on hard economic times. His mother learned to bake from her, and in fact for many years baked cakes and cookies and sold them out of her home as a way to make extra money.
Ernestine moved in with Kay after she and her second husband divorced, but she never lost her love of baking and was pleased to learn that Rashad had the same passion.
At almost ten o’clock, he reluctantly told his family they were going back to the hotel. He promised they’d be back tomorrow and wanted to take everyone to lunch, to which they readily agreed.
His grandmother had already gone to bed, so his sister and mother walked him and Layla to the door.
“We’ll see you tomorrow,” Ernestine said, voice quivering. He understood her emotional state and held onto her much longer than necessary before reluctantly pulling away.
As he and Layla walked down the driveway, he heard the door close behind them. He glanced down the street and up the street. The neighborhood was very quiet.
“Marcy does a lot of work,” he remarked. “I think I’m going to look into getting her some help, give her a break every now and again.”
“That would be nice,” Layla said. She took his ha
nd. “I’m so happy for you, baby.”
“Couldn’t have done any of this without you.
“You would have gotten here eventually,” Layla said.
“Maybe, but way in the distant future. I would have lost more time. Now I get to spend that time with them. Thank you. Really, for everything. For still being here.”
“I love you, Rashad. I told you, I’m not going anywhere.”
“I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I’m sure glad you’re here.”
He pulled her into his arms and kissed her forehead. “Let’s go. Get some rest, and tomorrow when we come back, I’m getting that lemon pound cake recipe.”
Layla laughed, tossing her head back. “I knew you were going to try to get that. It was so good. I’m sure you’ve already thought of a way to put your own twist on it.”
“You already know.”
They drove out of the neighborhood and toward the hotel. Tomorrow was a new day. The beginning of a new chapter in his life with the love of his life by his side.
Life was good.
***
Get the next book in the Quicksand series! It’s about Dana and Omar. They have a great friendship, but what are the consequences when they cross the line and become more than friends? Read The Friend Zone to find out.
Also by Delaney Diamond
Enjoy the other books in the Quicksand series about best friends Tamika, Layla, and Dana!
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Night and Day (Quicksand #4)
Anton doesn’t know what to think of the sexy, baseball-bat-wielding firebrand who disturbed his weekend rest. But somehow he gets sucked into her charms, and after one night together, he can’t get Tamika off his mind.
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What She Deserves (Quicksand #5)
Layla Fleming has changed since her breakup with Rashad Greene, and a sex-only arrangement is all she’ll consider now. But will that be enough for him?
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The Friend Zone (Quicksand #6)
Dana and Omar have a great friendship, but it’s about to go through some drastic changes.
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A Powerful Attraction (Quicksand #1)
Alex and Sherry have a strong attraction that cannot be denied. But when she learns the truth about him, will he end up losing her for good?
Audiobook samples and free short stories available at www.delaneydiamond.com.
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About the Author
Delaney Diamond is the USA Today Bestselling Author of sweet, sensual, passionate romance novels. Originally from the U.S. Virgin Islands, she now lives in Atlanta, Georgia. She reads romance novels, mysteries, thrillers, and a fair amount of nonfiction. When she’s not busy reading or writing, she’s in the kitchen trying out new recipes, dining at one of her favorite restaurants, or traveling to an interesting locale.
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