Dinner with the Uncles

Dinner with the "Uncles"

I sit in the passage for a few minutes, watching both patients and nurses walk by, my chest tight with an ache that catches me off guard. The hallway smells faintly of antiseptic and hand sanitizer, a cold reminder of how much time I've spent in hospitals lately. I press a hand to my chest as a memory blindsides me—a vivid flashback from when I was six years old. I had been chosen to play Cinderella in the school play. I was over the moon. Daddy had bought me the most beautiful little dress, all shimmering satin and organza. Mama had helped me rehearse my lines, over and over again, until I could say them in my sleep. But on the day of the performance, just before we left for school, Geena pushed me down the stairs. I broke my leg.

The cast was pink. I remember that. What I remember even more was the way no one believed me. Not really. Daddy had gently said, "She's your younger sister, Aaliyah. It was a mistake. Forgive her." And Mama, bless her heart, said softly, "Princesses are always forgiving. Willing to give another chance." but I never got another chance to play Cinderella. I wipe the single tear rolling down my cheek and take a steadying breath before pushing the door open to return to Noah's room.

Inside, Brandon is on the phone with his assistant. "Yes, send lunch at 2:30 p.m.—two rare burgers and one chicken wrap. Also, arrange for dinner, but I'll pick that up myself." He pauses, then adds, "I'll be there shortly. Direct all my calls to my phone until then." His voice is firm, composed, but the moment he sees me, he pauses mid-step.

He notices my red-rimmed eyes instantly. Concern flashes in his gaze.

"Are you okay, Aaliyah?" he asks gently.

I look away from him, brushing past as I answer in a tightly measured voice, "Yes, I just had an unsavoury flash of my past."

He doesn't push it. He simply nods once, then grabs his coat and steps toward the door.

"Linc will send lunch over, and I'll bring dinner myself," he says, turning slightly. "We need to talk… When do you plan on telling him?"

I scoff, folding my arms. "All of you are open to visiting him until we're discharged. But I won't be telling him anything until we're settled in our new home."

"Talking about home," I continue, raising an eyebrow, "Has Desmond said anything?"

"He took your number, so I'm sure he'll reach out. We may all be here this evening for dinner. Please let Noah know so we don't surprise him?"

His words catch me off guard. The softness in his tone, the quiet thoughtfulness behind his offer—it chips away at my guard.

"I will," I say, slightly touched. "See you at seven, Brandon. And thank you for lunch. Bye."

He nods once more. "See you later, Aaliyah."

He closes the door behind him with that familiar, swift elegance that lingers in the air long after he's gone. I pick up my phone and notice several missed messages from my team. I called Amanda first.

"Hey boss! How's Noah?" she chirps, warm and cheerful.

"He's better, Amanda," I reply, smiling. "Here's a list of things I need you to organize over the next couple of weeks:

* Find a new studio for us in Manhattan.

* Put the old space up for sale.

* Let the two staff go, but do it well with good severance and letters of recommendation.

* And finally, get ready to move to Manhattan. I need you here. If you run into any problems, let me know immediately."

"Sure thing, boss. And I look forward to seeing you," she says, her voice firm with loyalty.

That sorted, I switch on the television and find a good K-drama to distract myself while Noah naps. The familiar lull of background sound settles me, even as my mind races.

Lunch arrives and Noah sleeps through it. I sit by the window, unwrapping my chicken wrap and taking slow bites, savoring the quiet. I scroll through my business website, adding a few new products, making tweaks here and there. It's a nice return to normalcy, however brief.

By six, I've had a warm bath and changed into a casual but flattering wrap-around dress. I've given Noah a gentle sponge bath and changed him into fresh pajamas. He's alert now, sitting up in bed and clearly excited. I've told him he'll be meeting some new "uncles" tonight—the best way I could explain it for now. At exactly 7:30 p.m., they arrive—together. The door opens and in walk three men who look like they stepped out of a GQ magazine shoot. Brandon—dark, handsome, mysterious, Desmond—blond, blue-eyed, refined and Shawn—Blasian, smooth, with that quiet, seductive swagger.

Noah lights up instantly, his eyes wide and eager. The introductions go smoothly. They each brought a gift for him and one for me, too. It was unexpected, sweet even.

Noah squeals when he sees what they brought:

Brandon: a brand-new iPhone, already loaded with his number.

Desmond: a PS5 Minecraft bundle.

Shawn: A sleek new iPad.

Noah is already in love. Men and their toys. We all sit together, eating dinner lasagna, warm and cheesy, with sides of garlic bread and salad. The mood is warm, lively, and surprisingly natural. The men take turns talking to Noah, answering his questions, and making him laugh. Watching them is surreal. Eventually, Noah starts yawning, his energy finally dipping. The men take their leave one by one, and I escort them to the hallway. Desmond pauses just before stepping into the elevator. "Aaliyah, your flat at the Noir Flame is ready. When will you be moving in?"

I nod. "Thank you, Desmond. By next week."

"Okay. We'll pick you up," he says with a nod. "You've done wonderfully. He's a great boy. You did well."

I smile, heart tightening. "Thank you, Desmond."

Just then Brandon and Shawn join us, echoing Desmond's words. "He's amazing, Aaliyah," Shawn says. Brandon simply nods in agreement, his eyes lingering on mine longer than necessary. "Well done." I blush, brushing away the emotion rising in my throat. It's hard being a single parent. It's harder still to face the ghosts of your past while trying to build a future. I bid them goodnight and returned to the room. Noah is already asleep. Peacefully, soundly. I walk to the bed, kiss his forehead softly, and then step toward my bed. I pick up the gifts the men gave me, admiring them silently:

A stunning Bvlgari necklace.

A Gucci handbag.

A sleek pair of Armani shoes.

My, oh my.

Are the men trying to woo me?

Interesting…

I walk over to the wardrobe and place each item carefully inside. Then I change into my nightwear, something soft and loose, and finally sit back down on my bed, legs tucked under me.

My mind begins to race. Thinking darkly, I remember Geena's call. And as every instinct in me sharpens, I know when one snake surfaces, the other is never far behind.

Karly will make her move soon.

Let the games begin ….