Have Your Cake by D.S. Roi Page A

day she rushed him to the emergency room with broken ribs. She hadn’t been grateful to see the law take Jamal to jail. The man had been everything to her. Every child deserved a dad. The loss of her father swayed her to hang on to Jamal. Life hadn’t gotten better until Jamal had died in the jail cell he deserved. Afterward, she learned to support her small family with great cooking. Baking gave her an identity. It was more than enough to help Eric grow into a fine young man. She grinned to herself. A strong football playin’ man. The kitchen not only provided him all the pounds of protein he needed, it also brought her back from her attachment and depression.
    She took a long breath. “Cyana, you know you have terrible taste in men.”
    Her stomach growled in protest from skipping dinner. Not right now. She rolled out of the bed, reaching for her yoga mat. The CD player wouldn’t do today. She needed to be able to block out the outside world and forget about the trauma of her last serious relationship.
    She rummaged in her duffle for her MP3. Donning her most comfortable sports bra and terrycloth shorts, she shoved the ear buds in and headed to the hardwood floors she’d worked out on yesterday.
     
     
    A sher raked his hand through the lengthy top hair falling towards his view. He’d have to schedule a hair cut before the wedding. He stepped out of the doorway to the workshop and noted the sky. The storm front lingered. Clouds billowed thick in puffs of white with windswept gray bottoms. Another muggy September day. He peered over the lawn at the landscapers tending to flowers and bushes adding floral notes to the air. One bonus from the rain was the lawn would be soft under foot and the roots strong for future growth.
    Blue Jays took to the air, trailing his attention to the very top of the house which he could view from the shop. Static hovered over his skin. Cyana. His thoughts went to her every time he peered to the second floor of the mansion. His belly warmed and heart thumped a bit harder.
    Damn. He hadn’t even seen her. Whatever kind of madness this is has to stop. He groaned against the thought and crossed his arms. How in hell did I ever get a sweet spot for this beauty? He rubbed the back of his neck before his phone rang. Checking the number, his mood fell flat.
    “Good morning, Mother.” He answered Sally without a hint of enthusiasm.
    “Asher Wilmington, is that how you greet your mother? You haven’t spoken to me in weeks.”
    He rolled his eyes at the drama in her tone. “I said good morning. You needn’t exaggerate about the frequency of our conversations. Since you’ve decided to take over Josh’s wedding coordination, we’ve been in touch.”
    Sally huffed. “I have not taken over . I feel if my grandson wants to get married, he should have only the best wedding coordinator, meaning my services are available. Naturally.”
    Asher stepped back into the workshop. Even though his mother’s flamboyant behavior was above irritating, she had a point. Her events featured in bride magazines all over the country. This occasion would no doubt bring the same, if not more, attention.
    Irritating as she was, her use of his locations earned them both a lucrative living. He was half-listening to her ramble on regarding vases, doilies, ribbons or something completely feminine before the sound of his name brought him back to the one-sided conversation.
    “I should dote over someone,” she continued, “I’m still looking forward to your big day. Why haven’t you settled down with any of those eligible bachelorettes I’ve set you up with? I would love to be a grandmother again. You know, before I’m a great grandmother.”
    “I’m not interested in what your girls have to offer, Mother.”
    “Obviously you haven’t the finest of tastes.” The statement came across as smug as he was certain Sally intended it.
    He shook his head, thinking of every scrawny blond she threw at him in an attempt