I roll back my shoulders. “I’m . . . going to pursue a career in charity.”
I stare at Donovan, waiting for him to yell, “I told you so!” Instead, he says, “Well, this makes my news ten times easier. Remember that Sanctuary job I was telling you about? Guess who got shortlisted for an interview?”
I frown. Donovan nods to me, a smile growing on his face.
“How—when? I didn’t even apply.”
Donovan laughs. “I put you forward for the role. Remember that time you sent me your CV?”
My mouth drops. “Are you being serious? Did I really get shortlisted?”
“Yup. So, I was right all along, yeah?”
My lips twist into a smile. And overcome with happiness, I’m unable to help myself; I throw my arms around him. “Thank you, Donovan,” I whisper.
After I’ve let him go, my friends magically appear.
“We were wondering where you got to,” says Nana, giving me a wink.
Rachel wastes no time introducing herself, even checking Donovan out while she’s at it.
Brian whispers to me. “Cor, he’s a stunner.”
Ola throws me a “You go, gurl” look before extending a hand.
Joanna behaves like a normal human being. “Nice to meet you, Donovan.”
While Donovan gets to know everyone, I stand back and watch, grinning. So, this is what it looks like when my worlds blend.
July
Where’s your plus one?
SATURDAY
Friday, 9 July at 4.17 p.m.
From: Huang, Martin
To: Yinka Oladeji
Subject: Next steps
Dear Yinka,
It was great speaking to you on the phone just now.
Congratulations again on your appointment as Outreach Manager. We can’t wait for you to join the team.
As I said over the phone, you truly impressed us during the interview with your passion and enthusiasm. We think you’ll fit right in!
I’ll be in touch next week with your contract, but any questions in the meantime, please get in touch.
We look forward to welcoming you to Sanctuary.
Best wishes,
Martin Huang
Head of HR
I look one last time at the e-mail I received yesterday and allow myself to feel another surge of excitement before focusing on the scene around me. This wedding is what I’d call glam galore: think a copper and rose-gold palette, with lots of white silk flowers, chandeliers and fancy Chiavari chairs. And at the center of it are Rachel and Gavesh. From the back of the candlelit hall, I stare at them dancing, their eyes firmly locked. Rachel is stunning in her princess dress and her gold multilayered headpiece, and Gavesh looks so gorgeous in his sequined jacket with its puffy sleeves and matching crown-like hat.
How they managed to plan their special day within six months is beyond me. Though they both come from different cultures where weddings are an equally big deal, somehow they fused their traditions beautifully without killing each other.
With a glass of bubbly in hand, I watch as the saree-and-à?ò? è?bí-wearing guests on the dance floor spray Big Mama and Gavesh’s mum with American dollars while they drop it like it’s hot. Kemi’s dancing too. She has slipped into her flats and is showing everyone how low she can go now that she no longer has a bump to contend with.
“Hey, you.” Nana drapes her arm around me and gives me a peck on the cheek. We look like twins today in our pink saree-inspired bridesmaids’ dresses. Nana has done an amazing job.
“I’m so happy for Rachel and Gavesh. I mean, look at this.” I spread my arms.
“Yeah, they should be proud of themselves.” Nana looks around for a moment, then nudges me. “You too.”
“Me?” I laugh a little. “Let’s be real. I didn’t contribute that much.”
“No, I’m not talking about the wedding. I’m talking about how far you’ve come. I’m so proud of you, sis.”
“Aww.” I give her a side hug and we sway a little.
“Sooo, where’s your plus one?” In an exaggerated manner, she swivels her head.
“Plus one?” I frown. “Girl, you know I abandoned my bridesmaid’s goal a long time ago. The goal is to love myself and that’s still a work in progress.”
“You didn’t invite Donovan?”
“Nana, we’re just friends.” I take a sip of my bubbly, pretending not to see her cock her head, like yeah, right.
“Anyway, this is my jam.” She hoists up her dress, pecks me on the cheek, then rushes to the dance floor to shake a leg to yet another Afrobeats song.
“Yinka.”
It’s Aunty Blessing. And she’s got someone with her.
“I would like to introduce you to someone.” With a grin, she gestures at the silverfox of a man who kind of looks like Sean Connery (obviously after his Bond days). “This is Terry Matthews.”
I blink, then remember my manners.
“Sorry, nice to meet you.” I shake his proffered hand.
“Blessing tells me you’ve got a new job?”
I glance at my Aunty, who is still manically smiling. “Yes. I recently got a job as an outreach manager at a homeless charity. I know. Worlds apart from what I was doing before. Oh, and I’m sorry I didn’t meet you that time.”
Terry bats a hand. “Don’t worry. And congratulations. It’s important to do what makes you happy.”
I glance at Aunty Blessing again. She looks the definition of happy.
“Okay, let me introduce you to my other niece.” Aunty Blessing slips her arm through Terry’s. “Ooh, I see her. Yinka”—she hugs me—“we’ll catch up later, my dear.”
I watch them meander their way around the hall, each round table adorned with white linen, gold candelabras and silk flowers.
My first thought is, I wonder if she met him on that dating website? Then my second thought is, I’m so, so happy for her. Just goes to show that you can find love at any age.
Beaming, I make my way to the buffet station. Those—I think they’re called watalappans?—are absolutely to die for. En route I see Ola with her arms around Jon’s neck, dancing. Our eyes meet and she waves. Jon turns his head and waves too. It’s nice to see the two of them being affectionate.
Just as I’m about to reach for a dessert plate, I feel a light tap on my shoulder and turn around. It’s Femi.
“Yinka, so good to see you.” I’m greeted with a hug . . . and now a squeeze . . . wow, and a wide smile. I forgot that he was going to be at the wedding. And now that I’m seeing him in the flesh . . . I wait for the familiar sensation of nerves and anxiety to kick in. Nope, it doesn’t come. So, I guess I don’t care any more.
“Hey, Femi. Good to see you too. Where’s Latoya?” I glance over his shoulder.
Femi’s jovial expression vanishes. He seems preoccupied with the floor.
“We broke up,” he says at last, his face glum.
“Oh my gosh. I’m so sorry.” I now feel terrible for asking. Okay, I feel a tiny bit glad, but mostly awful.
“We kind of rushed into things, whatever.” He shrugs, but I can tell he’s hurt. “She was still in love with her ex, so . . .” He manages to lift his gaze an inch.
“Femi. I’m . . . I’m truly sorry.”
“Don’t be.” He runs a hand over his head, and I congratulate myself for not gawking at his biceps. “In fact, I should be apologizing to you.” He exhales. “Yinka, I’m sorry that we didn’t work out. Sometimes I wonder if breaking up with you was a big mistake.”
I stare at him, dazed. Everything around me vanishes. And as I gaze at him, I realize that I’m actually waiting. I’m waiting for a feeling. Vindication. Longing. Something. But nothing comes except for the realization that I’m well and truly over him.
Femi realizes this too. He shifts uncomfortably in his shiny shoes. Then he clears his throat and says, “You look beautiful, by the way.”
“Thanks.” I scratch my elbow. Hey, what do you know? That word did nothing for me either. A few months ago, my heart would have swelled from the compliment.
“So is your mister here?” Femi swivels around, and just as I’m about to say no, Donovan appears.
Wait, Donovan?
“Look at you, looking all fancy,” he says, bundling me into a hug while my mind is trying to process why he’s here.