Chapter 1

                So I'm sitting here waiting. Questioning why I came in the first place, wondering why I didn't try to arrange this meeting sooner. Checking my watch again 3:30 in the afternoon, he said he'd be here at three, I've been here since two-thirty. Either I'm anxious to get this meeting started or anxious to get it over with, whatever it is it's got my stomach in knots. "Miss would you like to order an appetizer while you wait for the rest of your party?" that's the waiter talking. I smile and decline, but order another cappuccino, so he won't come back for a while. Check my watch again 3:41. He's not coming. I'm watching the streets close, don't know what I'm looking for I've never seen him. Check my cell maybe he called to say he'd be late. Damn, two missed calls, my heart jumps into my throat. Maybe he called to see if I was still coming and I didn't answer. I check the ID my mom was the first call and my ex was the second. So, he didn't call. Maybe I misread the last conversation we had; I replay it in my head to make sure I didn't miss anything. I'm looking forward to meeting you, and all that hype. I can't front though I fell for it. My moms told me not to.

Check my watch again and come up with 3:52, why am I still waiting, who knows. Might as well order lunch and give this trip some kind of purpose since it's not serving the one it's supposed to. "A chicken Caesar salad please to start, thank you." That's me to the waiter he takes the order and looks relieved that I finally ordered, I know he's thinking this black chick is taking up the space for potential tip givers. I smile and give him a nod like I feel you I would be on them tips too if I was a waitress. I check my phone and contemplate calling my ex back, nah. That's why we didn't work out in the first place; I kept putting him in the place of the nigga who stood me up. Black girl lost. I read somewhere a couple of weeks ago that most girls who don't have a father figure in their life seek to find that acceptance in other males such as boyfriends, lovers and husbands, ultimately bringing destruction to the relationship. Kevin came to that revelation before I did, "Yo, shortie you my girl and I love you but I can't be your daddy, cause I'm saying, the shit I do to you," he laughs a little, "daddies shouldn't do, ya'mean." That's what he said when we broke up, and that's when I started searching. Moms didn't want to have shit to do with it; she had all the disappointment she could take from the situation.  She didn't want to watch me go through the same thing she did. But, I'm grown and it's my decision so, she gave me a name and an old address and sent me on my way. And two days and a million phone calls later, here I am, all dressed up and no one to meet. My salad comes back, I don't even want it but I force through it cause I think that waiter is watching me. You know how they say things happen when you least expect it, boom. In walks my eyes, my smile and my hair, attached to a stranger, so familiar my heart skips a beat.

He immediately locks into my stare and I eye check him real cold to let him know you're late, twenty years late, and I've been waiting. He's smiling the same smile I use when I'm trying to weasel out of trouble, apple don't fall far from the tree, say word. He looks good. Sliding over to the table I'm sitting at so smooth, waiters and patrons crossing in front of him without breaking his stride. I can see why my moms fell for him all dapper and shit in his linen shirt. He made it to the table and stood for a moment like he expected a hug. I smiled and gave him a polite, fuck-no look. He got the picture and eased into his seat.