“Sorry, my bad. I’m Donovan.” He stretches a hand toward Femi, and the look on Femi’s face is priceless.
“Well, it was good seeing you.” Femi nods to me, then he does this weird half-wave at Donovan and scurries away as though he needs to pee really badly.
“Lemme guess. The ex?” Donovan cocks his head. I’m so used to seeing him in his woke hoodies, I’m taken aback by how attractive he looks in a suit.
“Yes,” I answer after admiring his neat beard. “What are you doing here?”
“What am I doing here?” Donovan staggers back as though my words are bullets. “Nana said you wanted to invite me, but was too chicken to ask.”
“That girl!” I spin my head, and not to my surprise, Nana’s watching. She gives me two thumbs up. Sneaky.
Then as though tonight is the night of guest appearances, Mum and Aunty Debbie magically appear by our side. Aunty Debbie is in my good books right now, because she managed to compose herself after I failed to catch Rachel’s bouquet.
“Hello, Aunties,” Donovan says just as I’m about to introduce him. From the looks of things, however, both Mum and Aunty Debbie already know his name. Huh?
“Donovan came to All Welcome last Sunday.” Aunty Debbie has clearly read my baffled expression.
Mum says, “We recognized him from the fashion show, so we thought, you know, we’d introduce ourselves.”
“Oh, did you now?” I notice their familiar mischievous expressions. And wait—why the heck was Donovan at All Welcome Church?
“Anyway, we just thought we’d say hello,” says Mum, already adjusting her wrapper to leave.
I blink. This is a miracle. I’m standing side by side with an (objectively speaking) handsome man and she’s not even sizing him up as a potential huzband?
I’m still in a state of shock as I watch them go.
“Okay, since when did you start attending All Welcome?” I ask, gathering myself.
Donovan chuckles, then rolls his eyes. “First of all, it was one Sunday. And it’s not my cup of tea.”
“But why?” I laugh a little. “Not why wasn’t it your cup of tea. Why were you there in the first place?”
Donovan’s response doesn’t come straight away. “I guess talking to you about faith made me want to, you know, revisit what I had in the past. I’m not saying I’m a Christian now, but I’m definitely . . . intrigued. In fact, you heard of the Alpha course? Yeah, man starts that in two weeks.”
“Well . . . I’m speechless.”
Donovan grins and my belly flutters.
“Oh, and we should celebrate. I knew you’d get the job. You free next Saturday?”
My lips curl into a smile.
“What?” he says, and my smile broadens. “I’m not taking you anywhere fancy, you know. Probably Chicken Cottage or something.”
“Chicken Cottage?” I laugh.
“Okay, fine. Nando’s?”
I notice his dimples as he laughs. “Donovan! You know what you’re suggesting is called a date, right? I mean, I thought you were terrified to ask women out?”
Donovan scratches his head. “Yeah . . . but not you.” Then as though he can’t bear being serious for a moment longer, he adds, “So are you free next Saturday or what?”
“Yes.” I’m smiling so hard, I can feel the muscles in my cheeks. Then pretending to be blasé, I add, “If I must.”
The iconic intro of Cameo’s “Candy” blares from the speakers: Bom, bom, bom, bom, bom-bom, bom-bom, bom.
On cue, flocks of people dash to the dance floor to join the dancers who have already arranged themselves into rows and are now trying to agree on what leg they should start with once the bass drops.
“Yooo!” Donovan whips his fingers. “Made it just on time.” He grabs my hand and stops when I tug him back.
I wiggle my lip. “I don’t know how to do the electric slide.”
His mouth drops. “But you’re Black.”
“Well, then I must be the only Black person in the world who doesn’t know how to do the Candy dance.”
Donovan laughs. “Don’t worry, I’ll teach you.” He takes my hand again.
We reach the dance floor and stand side by side facing the same direction as everyone else.
“Look. It’s easy.” He takes two steps to the left. Two steps to the right. Two steps backward. Two steps forward. Kicks foot out—hello!—ninety-degree turn, then does the same move all over again.
Donovan is right. The electric slide is easy. (Gosh, I missed out at Kemi’s wedding.) After one wrong start and two wobbly turns, I’ve found my rhythm.
“There you go,” says Donovan encouragingly. “See. You’re getting the hang of it.”
I take two steps to the left, another two to the right, and I spot the faces of loved ones among the crowd.
Rachel, Gavesh, Nana and Ola.
Two steps backward.
Aunty Blessing, Aunty Debbie, Big Mama and Mum.
Two steps forward.
Kemi, Uche, Chinedu and Ola’s kids.
Swerve, kick, turn—
“Oops, sorry, Donovan.”
Hmm. God, you clearly have a sense of humor.
Acknowledgments
First, I want to thank God for entrusting me with this story and for blessing me with the gift of writing. I’m grateful every day. To my husband, Martin, if only I had more pages! Thank you for encouraging me over the years and for making sure I didn’t give up. I really appreciate all those times you listened to my ideas, gave me feedback and provided a shoulder to cry on whenever I was overwhelmed. Oh, and thank you for taking off my glasses anytime I passed out after a long day.
To my wonderful parents: I love you so much. Thank you for all your support and wisdom. Thank you, Dad, for nurturing the writer in me when I was young by buying me all those Jacqueline Wilson books. Thank you, Mum, for all those motivating WhatsApp messages you’ve sent me and for your countless prayers. (Shout-out to your church group!) To my equally wonderful in-laws: thank you for your genuine interest in my writing and well-being. Your positivity really helped. To my siblings and cousins: thank you for being successful in your own endeavors. You were my role models without even knowing it. As for my many aunties and uncles here in the UK, Nigeria and the U.S., thank you for always showering me with love. Grandma and Sister Donna, thank you for keeping me in your prayers too.
To my godsent agent, Nelle Andrew: In Donovan’s words, “You’re the G.O.A.T!” Thank you for believing in me from day one (even when my writing still needed a bit of work!). I truly appreciate your passion and expertise. And massive thanks to the rest of the squad at Rachel Mills Agency—Charlotte, Alex and Rachel. Thank you for championing Yinka abroad.
To my UK editor, Katy Loftus: You’re everything I’ve wanted in an editor and more. Thank you for being such a talented person to learn from. For your passion, energy, and bags of enthusiasm. You really helped take Yinka to the next level. To my U.S. editor, Pam Dorman: Honestly, I feel so blessed. Thank you for your valuable advice on storytelling, for pushing me to become a better writer and for that much-needed pep talk. Jeramie and Marie, thank you for all the hard work you’ve done behind the scenes and for being such great in-house cheerleaders. Vikki, Julia Jason and the design team, thank you for absolutely smashing it with the look and feel of Yinka. You really brought it to life! Thanks also to Jaya Miceli for the amazing cover! And to everyone at Viking UK and Pamela Dorman Books, thank you for believing in Yinka and investing in me.