Page 70 of Saint

“Hey, girlie,” she grabbed my hand and squeezed when she finally eliminated our distance. “I’m gonna take off. I didn’t know you were kin with him,” she grimaced.

Both me and Saint’s eyes followed Luna’s as she nodded toward Sincere.

“What’s wrong with Sincere?” I asked, not understanding why Luna seemed so disgusted.

“Aw, shit. What did Sin do?” Saint chimed in.

Initially hesitant to continue the conversation, Luna looked between the two of us. She craved privacy away from Saint’s presence.

“Girl, it’s a high probability that I’m gonna tell him anyway when we’re laid up in bed tonight,” I shrugged. Saint and I were so comfortable with each other that we didn’t keep secrets. We weren’t just husband and wife. He’d become my best friend. We shared everything.

“Okay, but… Don’t judge me.”

“We won’t,” Saint promised with a smile.

“I didn’t know Sincere was your brother-in-law,” she prefaced before providing any further detail. “We had a thing a while back. It was brief. I thought it would turn into something more, but… it didn’t. That man has been one of my biggest regrets to date,” she explained as her voice splintered.

“Aw, Lu. Don’t let him stop you from enjoying yourself.” I placed an arm around her shoulder, seeking to soothe whatever sting she was feeling.

“I would rather not be in the same space as him, Tori. I just–I have to go. I’m sorry.”

I stared in disbelief as Luna shuffled away toward the tent’s exit. Little could penetrate her mood. My friends were all tough cookies, just like me. There wasn’t much that could summon our tears. Immediately, I felt terrible for her. She’d had a difficult time with romantic relationships.

“That nigga always finds a way to piss in a woman’s cheerios,” Saint floated, shaking his head.

“Really? I had no idea. What’s wrong with him?” I asked with my gaze trained on my brother-in-law. Sincere, oblivious to Luna, was laughing it up with the DJ at the booth. The woman was attractive, explaining his persistent presence. I hadn’t known much about my brother-in-law. From the day we met, he’d been distant. Now, I wondered if that had anything to do with his involvement with Luna.

“Sincere is a Casanova of the worse kind,” Saint revealed. “If he crossed paths with Luna, chances are he hurt her feelings.”

My desire to march up to Sincere and demand that he set things right with Luna was tempered by the fact that I didn’t have enough details about her situation. It wasn’t my place to get involved. Luna would have to grow better at discerning the men she allowed into her life.

Saint and I floated around the room, arm in arm, accepting well wishes and chatting with our guests. There was one particular person who caught my eye, making them bloom in surprise.

“Mrs. Shirley?” I gasped at the librarian’s presence.

“Well, hello. What a treat it is to see you beautiful two young people again,” she smiled. The woman was dressed in her Sunday best. A pink skirt suit and a hat to match made up her appearance.

“I could say the same of you, Mrs. Shirley. Eight months ago, you prayed for us. I’m grateful for your heartfelt words and well wishes.”

“And I will continue to pray for you all,” the old lady vowed. “Especially for that little baby that you’ve got tucked away in there,” she pointed to my flat stomach.

Nervously, I chuckled, and Saint’s eyebrows hiked. “Baby?” Granting me a look that sought an explanation, he waited for my response.

“Uh oh. Did I say something I wasn’t supposed to?” Failing to linger, Mrs. Shirley was sheepish as she scurried away from us.

I wasn’t aware of any baby. It wasn’t exactly something Saint and I had discussed. With a growing fashion brand and the Miller Recreational Center just beginning, my thoughts were far removed from conceiving a child. Mrs. Shirley was kind of old. Though she had her wits about her, she was likely speaking some sort of superstitious foolishness.

“Victoria?” Again, Saint questioned.

At the call of my name, I rejoined the present moment.

“I–I don’t know what she’s talking about.”

Quickly, I attempted to do the math in my head to calculate my last cycle.

“It was seven weeks ago, Beauty,” Saint aided my computations.

“Huh?”