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now. Even if she stripped naked and threw herself at you, I know you wouldn’t give her the time of day. Not after what she did to Yolanda.”
    Warrick stiffened, the grin fading from his face.
    Noting his reaction, Deniece immediately realized her mistake. She blew out a deep breath and shook her head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up such a painful subject.”
    â€œIt’s all right,” Warrick said quietly. “You know Yolanda’s never far from my mind.”
    Deniece nodded sympathetically. “When does she get out?”
    â€œOctober ninth. One hundred three days and counting.” Warrick’s chest tightened as he thought about the long anticipated reunion with Yolanda Mayne, a day that promised to be as emotionally chargedfor his family as the terrible, heart-wrenching day his sister was found guilty in court.
    â€œHave you had a chance to visit her since you’ve been back?” Deniece asked, picking up her fork to resume nibbling on her salad.
    Warrick shook his head, his expression grim. “Not yet. She’s asked the family to limit our visits to once a month.”
    Deniece frowned. “Once a month? Why?”
    â€œShe said she’s getting more anxious as her release date approaches. It’s becoming harder and harder for her to see us for brief, limited periods of time. She said she gets really depressed afterward. So she decided it would be better, for her sake, if we visited less frequently.” He paused, reflecting on how difficult and painful that decision must have been for Yolanda, who, as the baby, had always thrived on the love and attention lavished on her by her family.
    â€œMy mother asked me and my brothers to wait until she and Yasmin return from vacation in a few days so we can visit Yolanda together as a family,” Warrick said.
    Deniece offered a tentative smile. “Will you tell Yo-Yo I said hello?”
    â€œOf course.” There was only one person Yolanda Mayne never wanted to hear from again, and it wasn’t the woman seated across the table from Warrick.
    He frowned, his gaze drifting back to the table where Raina and her date were now lingering over coffee. As Warrick watched the couple, Deniece’s words replayed in his mind.
    Deniece was wrong. Raina St. James had never had a crush on him. He would have picked up on something like that, although, admittedly, he’d never paid much attention to any of his baby sister’s friends. His older sister’s friends—definitely. But not Yolanda’s. Besides, Raina had always struck Warrick as cool and aloof, and more than once he’d gotten the impression that she thought she was better than him and his family. He’d seen the way she watched him and his brothers as she passed by the crumbling basketball court where they were playing, her nose wrinkling in distaste at their crass language and the misogynistic rap music blaring from their stereo. Warrick remembered her looking the same way the very first time Yolanda had brought her home from school, when they were ten years old. Raina had taken one look around their ramshackle house filled with hand-me-down furniture, outdated appliances andscuffed floors, and had turned up her nose in disgust. Warrick hadn’t been at all surprised when Yolanda confided to him that Raina’s parents didn’t approve of their daughter hanging out in a Section 8 neighborhood. What had surprised him was how often Raina had come back. For whatever reason, she had seemed to prefer spending time at their house over her own—a single-story brick home with large windows and a tidy yard in one of the few middle-class suburbs in the Third Ward. That was about all Warrick had ever seen of the place, as he’d never stuck around long enough to be invited inside whenever he dropped Raina off at home.
    Yolanda had usually tagged along for the ride, but on the few occasions when she’d been