A far off light crept over Imani’s face. “Papa wanted to come home-be a help to his country. He wanted to do so with his own money, outside of what his family had earned with their shipping endeavors along the coast.
“Shipping.” Roman said around the bite of toast he’d taken.
“Mmm,” Imani nodded. “As far north as Egypt-almost a decade after his brothers had taken over their father’s business. My grandfather started with a small dhow ship, taking fish in to the mainland. Both my grandfathers went into a side business together after a while. It’s how my parents met, I guess you could say. My grandfathers spent a lot of time growing their businesses together and separately.
But my father was determined,” she leaned over to pluck a grape from the fruit bowl near the platter. “He and Mamae married and went off to South Africa where he and his friends made their own fortunes.”
“Impressive ones from the looks of it,” Roman savored a bite of the tender steak. “I saw a lot of that impressiveness in Chicago,” he said after swallowing.
“Papa says a man can only spend so much time seeking fortune before it becomes his duty to use it to bring others along.”
“Bring others along.”
Imani stretched out her legs and rested against the headboard. “We live very well here, but the country is poor. The village is blessed because my father is a generous man-a powerful one whose connections keep us somewhat sheltered from many harsh realities. As a whole the country’s economy is in a frightful state.”
“If anyone could save it, your dad could.” Roman toasted with his juice glass.
“But it’s like I told your brother. Mozambique is a country-not as populated as America, but an overwhelming responsibility for one man.”
“Your dad sounds like a man who won’t rest until he’s done all he can.”
Imani settled back against the bamboo headboard and sighed. “Your father reminds me a lot of mine,” she said.
Roman finished the last of the scrambled eggs and nodded. “I thought the same thing.”
Imani bit her lip and watched Roman eat. “I apologize for what my mother said, calling your family racists.”
“Some of them are,” Roman made the declaration cooly and continued to polish off the rest of the steak.
“I don’t know when it happened for my mother,” he said once he’d washed down the meal with more juice. “Your mother was probably right on the mark when she said my dad’s money probably got in her head. Hangin’ around the people they do...guess anybody could lose their way.”
“Roman?” Imani’s brows wrinkled when she saw his profile take on a feral edge. “What is it?”
“Vale follows Humphrey’s lead in everything. Hump took some of his cues from our mother.”
“Some?”
“The rest of those cues are because of Pitch. Hump hides how deep that sh-that...stuff goes for him.” Roman grimaced over the curse that nearly left his tongue in his fianceé’s presence. “Trying to watch my language,” he told her sheepishly.
Imani inclined her head. “Admirable.”
“We’ll see. I only made the decision just now.”
Easy laughter flowed between them, but soon Roman had turned serious. “There’s something uglier about the hate he’s got for Pitch. Like it’s a living thing- a decayed living thing. I can almost feel it sometimes.”
Imani felt an unease settle deep in her stomach as well. Nervously, she worked the edges of the bed covers between her fingers. “I’m still sorry my mother said those things.”
“It’s understandable Imani,” he favored her with a crooked smile. “I’d be surprised if she didn’t think my entire country was racist. It’s responsible for a lot of hateful things. Hateful may be too light a word.”
“It’s about more than slavery and racism for my mother,” Imani shifted a bit to tuck her long legs beneath her. “She never forgave my uncle for taking her baby sister-my aunt Char-away with him to America. Aunt Char and Uncle Darrius met when he was in South Africa on leave from the Army. He took her back with him when he left. He’s originally from New York.”
“It makes sense, then,” Roman sighed. “She’s afraid she’ll lose you. Her only daughter. So we’ll just have to make sure that doesn’t happen.”
Imani frowned. “How? Your life is there.”
“You’re my life.”
He said it so simply, so matter of factly. Imani felt too stunned to even try moving.
As though the matter were settled for him, Roman set the tray and empty food platter to the floor. “So what are we going to see on the-”
“I’m going back with you,” Imani cut in.
“You won’t,” a muscle jumped wickedly along his jaw. “You’re not leaving your family for me.”
“A wife’s place is with her husband.”
“That’s old-fashioned, Imani.”
“Okay.”
He grinned, but wasn’t amused. “I won’t take you from your family.”
“Aren’t you about to be my family?”
Roman knocked his head back against the frame. He reached for her then, one hand spanning her hip, moving on to the small of her back and then he’d lifted her onto his lap. “I love you,” he murmured the words which silenced when his tongue swept her mouth.
She had come to the room fully dressed, but her T-shirt and shorts were poor barriers against a hungry male. In moments, Roman’s fingers were beneath the T-shirt hem and strumming her bare skin while drifting toward her bra.
