What He's Been Missing by Grace Octavia Page A

said.
    â€œI know it’s short, but I was thinking that for someone with your expertise, with your skill—I mean, you’re a master. Ian always says how amazing you are at what you do.” She was playing me like an African drum, but it felt so good. “You’ll have total control. We’ll follow your lead.” Scarlet looked at me with glassy eyes.
    â€œOK,” I said, knowing what she’d just said was a lie. “As long as we keep it small and tasteful.”
    â€œThat’s what I was thinking,” Scarlet said.
    â€œWhere are you two thinking about having it? I can have Krista look for dates once I get back to the office. It won’t be very warm here in three months, so someplace inside is best in case it gets too cold at night. Or we could do a tent.” I’d gone right into work mode and pulled out my iPad.
    â€œOh, I can’t get married in Atlanta,” Ian said. “I have to get married at home in New Orleans.”
    I looked up from my iPad. “What?”
    â€œI keep telling him that we can just have the wedding here. Have his people come to Atlanta. It’s halfway between New Orleans and Miami. It’s only fair. But he insists.”
    â€œScarlet, my mother would have a heart attack if I brought a woman into this family outside of her church.”
    â€œOh, you mean your mother whom I haven’t even met yet?” Scarlet asked. “And I thought we decided that we weren’t doing it in a church.”
    â€œI was raised in the church!”
    â€œDo you know what the Catholic Church did to those Africans during Middle Passage? Raping little boys and girls?”
    â€œYes, I know. I taught you that when you took my class!”
    Shane, the waiter, was standing by the bar and he turned to us when he heard Ian’s voice go up.
    â€œY’all quiet down with all that,” I said. “We can talk about this later.”
    â€œAin’t nothing to talk about,” Ian said. “I have to get married in New Orleans.”
    â€œFine,” Scarlet agreed.
    â€œAnd my father’s Zydeco band has to play at the reception.”
    â€œWhat?” Scarlet nearly knocked her water over, but I caught it.
    As they continued their bickering session, I signaled for Shane to come with the bill. What in the hell had I just agreed to?
    â€œWhy does your father’s band have to play at our wedding?”
    â€œBecause it’s my culture. The man might die if he doesn’t play at my wedding. Die, Scarlet! Die.”
    â€œWell, I might die if I have to listen to Zydeco all night.”
    â€œWho said anything about all night? We’ll play other music.”
    â€œLike salsa? My parents like salsa.”
    â€œSalsa? Why would anyone be listening to salsa in New Orleans?”
    â€œWhy not?”
    â€œBecause it’s New Orleans!”
    This went on for another ten minutes before I excused myself to go to the bathroom and walked out the back door.
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    â€œSo please explain to me how you took my advice to mind your business and strictly be there to support your friend to mean that you should plan the wedding. That’s just not what I had in mind.” Journey was sitting in a chair bottle-feeding Apache. They were both in their nightclothes. It was bedtime for me and the middle of the night where they were in South Africa. I was lying in bed with my laptop and had signed on just to see if Journey might be up. Luckily Apache wasn’t sleeping through the night because of all of the travel, so Journey was up trying to coax her back to sleep.
    â€œShe played me, Journey. Played me. I went from being against the wedding, to being in the wedding, to planning the whole thing.”
    â€œShe’s good.”
    â€œReally good.” I added another pillow behind my back.
    â€œSo how are you feeling?”
    â€œI don’t feel anything. I mean, I’ve been trying to take myself out of the