Nana Malone - This Is Love - Illusion of Love / From My Heart

Dear old Mom didn’t miss a beat, sighing and throwing her napkin down. “Honestly, Val, it’s like you’re trying to drive these men away from you with a flamethrower. Why did this one break up with you? It’s like we can’t get you a foothold with the man thing. It’s probably because you’re too aloof. Men like warmth in a woman. It’s not your nose thing, is it? I thought it was mostly under control.”

Val ground her teeth. “No. It wasn’t my nose thing.” From the moment she’d been hit, things had gotten increasingly difficult with her parents. So many places she couldn’t go. All the weird things she said about how food tasted funny. She really hadn’t helped her parents make any new friends. “And I broke up with him.” There. That was sort of the truth.

The look on her mother’s face was priceless. “But why in heavens would you do that? He is the James Adamson. He is old New Orleans—his great-great-grandfather was a freedman who became a doctor. In those times. Can you imagine his pedigree? He’s an Adamson. A young black man who’s carrying on the family tradition. He’s a dermatologist. Renowned. His earning potential is huge. Honestly, I don’t understand you sometimes.”

As her mother spoke, all the reasons why Val wanted a change in the first place bubbled to the surface. She wanted freedom of choice. She wanted to do something because she craved it and not because it was expected. She wanted to want someone because it lit her on fire.

Like Bennett. No. Not like Bennett. But whatever. She just didn’t want bland. Not anymore. She was in charge of her life and she could do what she liked. “Actually, Mom, I do have somebody. It’s new, but it’s serious.”

Her mother arched delicate brows. “Oh? Do tell. Who is his family? Where did they go to university? Do I know them? Did he do Jack and Jill?”

Shoot, that was information she didn’t have. Why hadn’t she prepped better? Because you were too busy reveling in the way Bennett tastes and not paying attention to the information you need to deliver. “Mom, you don’t know him. You might know his work, though. He’s a photographer.” Cue the nose wrinkle. Ooh, was that just her, or was there a snort, too? Awesome.

“A photographer? Sweetheart. You don’t seem to understand. Who you date, and eventually who you marry, matters. You’re a descendant of Garrett Morgan, an inventor and successful businessman. Think about that. You want to be with someone who is just a photographer?”

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