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Read an exclusive extract of Bolu Babalola's new book, Sweet Heat

Bestselling author Bolu Babalola is back with her hotly anticipated new novel, Sweet Heat . It's three years after their intense breakup, and Kiki has worked hard to forgive her first love, Malakai. They're about to see each other again for the first time at the engagement party of their respective best friends, Aminah and Kofi, as none other than maidof honour and best man. Read on for an exclusive insight into themoment they lock eyes, during Kiki's speech about her best friends at the event in London... Aminah is evidently very annoyed, because her accent has slipped from neutral posh to Lagosian posh. 'I went on Instagram and I saw him on that actor's stories – what's his name, Monae Noble? That overacting goat from that Motown show? They were at some party. If I find out that he missed his flight because he was hungover and doing body shots off some model's navel, he's going to have to square up to me! Doesn't he know that Ty is waiting in the wings to take his place? I–' Aminah's fully loaded now, about to unleash her clip of insults, but something must have flitted across my face, because her eyes flicker in apology. 'Oh–' I push a smile out at her, hoping the force would repress the imagery of Malakai licking body shots out of the grooved abs of a woman who probably makes videos like 'Day inthe Life of a Plant Whisperer and Choreographer' in a sultry whispering cadence. 'I think it's time for my speech.' 'Now, my girl has never been an outdoorsy type. In fact, I would say that Aminah's idea of camping would be staying in a hotel that hasn't got a pool.' There's a warm smattering of laughter that ripples across the 50-odd people in front of whom I'm standing as Aminah leans further into Kofi's arms and nods with a cute little unrepentant tick of her shoulder. 'That being said, I always knew there would come a day when my brother Kofi would gift her with a very... very large rock, and that she would accept.' Whoops swirl around the room and wrap themselves around the couple as Aminah lifts her hand up, flexing it in the royal wave. Kofi props her arm up witha triumphant, 'Yeah, you didn't know that man's a geologist?' I laugh and nod. 'Yeah, also a great DJ and producer. I don't like complimenting men, but I will give my brother that. And the thing is Kofi has always been good at blending. He used to help out on my radio show, help create mixes, and he would always know what songs would feed into each other, which would amplify one another, bring out the harmony, the feeling... which would speak with each other. And I truly believe that when he saw my beautiful, darling sister that first time at a uni party, doing her cute little two step and shimmy – you know the one – probably wiping down a seat before sitting down, sipping on her amaretto and pineapple, he knew they would make the right blend. Feed into each other. Make each other better.' Aminah and Kofi moon at each other, and the tenderness drapes heavy on my throat, making my voice harder to haul out. I push through it. '...unlike amaretto and pineapple,' I add. Aminah releases an indignant 'Hey!' that I gleefully ignore. 'Kofi is breezy, and Aminah… well, she ain't, as we well know.' Mirth ripples across the room as I zero in on my best friend's face, as dazzling as the ring on her finger, as her soul, as the love she gives to those who she deems worthy. 'But she's a wildflower. Beautiful, defiant, blooming wherever she finds herself, knowing who she is. Her place is wherever she is, and she owns it. Man, does she own it.' Aminah's eyes shimmer and she releases Kofi's hand to make a heart shape with her fingers in my direction. I reply with two taps on the left side of my chest with two fingers. 'And, the thing is, the breeze, it needs the wildflower to help give it direction, something to flow through, and the wildflower… well, the breeze reminds it to bend, to twirl. They're perfect together.' Kofi drops a kiss on Aminah's temple, squeezes her to him, and she rubs his arm. An internal pressure amps up and I feel my eyes begin to mist. 'Now, uh, I'm gonna save my good stuff for the wedding toast, but–' 'I'm sorry – that wasn't your good stuff? You already have us on the ropes. Mercy, please.' Shanti heckles me from where she's stood on the other side of the crowd, to a rumble of chuckling, dabbing the corner of her eyes with the edge of a curved index as Chioma teasingly pinches her waist and throws an arm round her. '...but they have something special,' I continue. 'And–' I look back into the crowd and the words I'm about to say fizzle on my tongue, the heat of his presence evaporating them into nothing. My eyes automatically snapped in his direction, not even knowing what they were being drawn to, but knowing, still. I will always know. The air seems to shift, make way for repressed feelings that are agitated to the surface, and it seems to have shifted away from me because I can barely breathe. I swear I can even smell him – wood and amber and resentment. I know, because, for better or for worse, my body reacts to his presence, acetone on a papercut. My heart hisses. There are footsteps as he comes further into the room, firm, swift steps that judder against my heartbeat. Heads turn to look and a good number of the female heads stay a little while, because that's what Malakai does, he turns your eyes sticky and your heart tacky, clinging on to him, so that you get stuck, tangled– Fuck, why now? He picks up a champagne flute from a nearby tray and that's when he looks at me and pins the remaining straggles of air I have to my ribs. I feel as if I'm being lanced with a honey-dipped blade. I almost buckle. It isn't lost on me that the last time I was standing in front of my peers giving a speech it was to declare my undying love for him. My hand slips a little on the flute and I grip it tighter. His face, the face I haven't seen in the flesh in two-and-a-half years, is inscrutable. Time hasn't etched it, but instead brought out things it was supposed to. His cheekbones are still steep, but his jaw is wider now, covered with a beard as plush as a night sky, glistening, and his skin is an undisturbed pool of dark elixir that looks like something you can lap at for refreshment; in fact, I used to. His deep eyes carry no love, no hate, but something strong and intense, wrapped in clingfilm to preserve it or maybe to keep out... Keep me out. I thought I was ready, but, as it turns out, I Am Not Ready. I need to somehow expel my spirit from my body right now, and unfortunately the only way to do that is to die. I contemplate it for a few seconds (by holding my breath for a long, long time), but I decide against it for many reasons including, but not limited to: Aminah has now noticed Malakai and immediately glances back at me, eyes huge with slight alarm and hefty concern and I am reminded that I need to speak – fucking speak, Kiki! I use my anger to melt down the blade in me, pour it over my voice so it sounds firm and I focus on anyone but the Someone. 'Um, as I was saying, it takes some bravery to hold on to something as big as what Aminah and Kofi have. To not let it go. Not everyone has what it takes.' I flick a look across the room now. Malakai's face is a placid lake, but the corners of his lips twitch, perceptible only to those with the knowledge of what that mouth can do. 'So let's make a toast.' I raise a wobbly hand, but keep my voice steady because my heartbeat ain't and my knees ain't and my brain definitely ain't, so something has to be. 'To Aminah and Kofi. And to not letting go.' Unfortunately, my gaze, rebelling against my restraint, snaps to Malakai's as his lips mouth, 'To not letting go.' He drains his flute and shoots me a look that's just as empty.