What He's Been Missing Read Online Free PDF Page B

there was Ian being the man I knew—always complex. Always caring for someone else. Sometimes, I thought that was what kept him going with Scarlet—for all of her perfection, she needed him for something. To hold her hand. To be her cherry on top.
    â€œSo?”
    Ian turned back to me.
    â€œYou know,” he started, “Scarlet obviously knows about the ring—”
    â€œObviously—”
    â€œBut she doesn’t know that I know that she knows. She still thinks it’s supposed to be a surprise.”
    I nodded along with his twisted thinking.
    â€œAnd—”
    This time the friend didn’t knock. She burst into the door and grabbed Ian.
    â€œIt’s time,” she whined . . . or growled.
    I grabbed for Ian’s other hand, but he leaned into the girl.
    â€œDon’t worry,” Ian said. “I know what to do.”
    These black people had formed an actual runway from the bedroom to the dining table where the lit birthday cake was waiting beside a beaming Scarlet. The shiny silver cake knife was on the table beside the cake. Everything was quiet and slow-moving as the friend led us down the gauntlet to the sacrificial table. Like we were mobsters walking into the coffee shop in Little Italy where we were about to become made men—or dead men. Folks were holding out iPhones ready to snap pictures and record the scene. Whatever Ian had up his sleeve, I hoped it was good. Suddenly, that tenth-floor balcony escape wasn’t looking too bad. Scarlet was from Buckhead, but she was still a sister. There was no telling what she’d do in this situation. Too bad I’d disobeyed Grammy Annie-Lou’s advice and left home without my framing knife—I felt the bottom of my purse to be sure.
    â€œHappy birthday to you—happy birthday to you!” they all sang so happily once Ian had made his way to Scarlet.
    The color in Ian’s face was gone. He was a white man. Was he planning to faint? Good stuff.
    Scarlet blew out the candles. Posed for more pictures. Thanked everyone for such a nice surprise. The place got quiet as a funeral parlor.
    The girlfriend beside Ian nudged him—visibly.
    He ignored her, but then she said, “And Ian, don’t you have a surprise for Scarlet?”
    â€œA surprise?” Ian smiled and everyone laughed like he was a dear old dad holding out on the keys to some sixteen-year-old’s first car. “Yes, I do have a surprise—a surprise for my sweetheart.” He took Scarlet’s had and the cameras started rolling.
    â€œReally?” Scarlet shrugged like she was completely caught off guard.
    â€œYes. Scarlet,” Ian said, “I love you and I want to know if you would—” He stopped.
    â€œWhat, baby?” Scarlet pushed. “What do you want to know?”
    Was he about to ask her anyway? Now I was about to pretend faint. Was that the plan?
    â€œI want to know if you would join me”—he paused again—“on a two-week vacation to”—he did a little two-step that impressed no one in the crowd—“Hawaii!”
    â€œHawaii?” Scarlet repeated with a half smile on her face, her left hand mistakenly extended. “Hawaii?”
    â€œHawaii?” The word was said in different ways around the room—none good.
    â€œHawaii!” I cheered and clapped like I was going. “Oh . . . that’s so great!”
    Had Scarlet’s eyes have been guns, she would’ve shot bullets right through my neck.
    Ian clapped along with me for the big sell.
    â€œAll inclusive!” he added. “Drinks and food!”
    â€œYo, that’s what’s up?” her roommate’s boyfriend said before the roommate elbowed him in the gut. “What? That must’ve cost the brother a grip.” He raised his glass and then, like hostages unsure of what else to do, everyone else did, too, one by one—everyone but Scarlet. She was looking at