The table erupted again.
“And I just want you to know, DaVinci… I’m proud of you. Not just for your career. Not just for your name. But for your heart. For your growth. For the way you love me. I was your biggest fan before I met you,” I leaned down and cupped his chin. “Now I’m your loudest. I’ll always support you.”
His eyes glistened just a little, and he gently pulled me into his lap, kissing my cheek while the whole room clapped and cheered.
“And on that note,” I said, still in his arms, “let’s eat before this food gets cold.”
An hour in, after the speeches and the laughter and the soft moment where his father told him how proud he was, I found him alone near the window, sipping from a crystal glass.
“Something wrong?” I asked, sliding next to him.
“Baby, no, of course not.” He exhaled, long and slow. “I wasn’t expecting all this. I wasn’t expecting anything to be real.”
“That was the point,” I said. “You give so much. The least I could do was give you something back.”
He pulled me in by the waist, lips near my ear. “You give me everything, Angel.”
I swallowed. “Come with me.”
I grabbed his hand, slipping through the crowd, past the staff hallway, and up the private winding staircase Ignite used for VIP events. At the top, a door with a brass keycard lock waited. I pulled out the one the manager gave me and pushed it open.
We stepped onto the rooftop.
The city was glowing under a dusk sky. String lights traced the perimeter, soft golden halos floating in the air. Two lounge chairs sat near the edge, a small table between them with a chilled bottle of champagne waiting. A playlist I curated—slow, warm, old-school R&B—played softly through hidden speakers.
DaVinci stared.
“This is our first date spot,” he said quietly.
“And this,” I said, stepping closer, “is where we start the next chapter. Dance with me.”
He framed my face with both hands, thumb brushing my cheek, eyes deeper than the skyline behind him.
“I love you, Halima Bryns,” he whispered. “And I swear to God, I’m gon’ give you every version of forever you want.”
“You already are,” I breathed.
We kissed and slow danced while the city hummed below us. And on that rooftop, with the man who loved me better than I ever imagined I deserved, I let him hold all of me.
A Week Later
“Baby, please don’t forget your charger this time. You do that to me every time we travel.”
DaVinci looked up from his phone, that lazy grin spreading across his face. “Lo, I don't give a fuck about this phone. The only thing I'm calling is that pussy while we gone.”
“See, that's what I be saying. You can never keep it PG.” I swatted at him, but I was grinning too hard to sell the annoyance.
“But good,” I continued, leaning closer, “because I'm tryna have dick on my breath at every stop on our Mediterranean tour. I can’t wait.”
He laughed, deep and genuine, the sound filling the private jet cabin. “You gon' let me drive the boat?" he asked, pulling me onto his lap, his hands sliding around my waist.
“Ayi Captain,” I said, turning in his arms.
“Corny.”
“Your mom is already spoiling Brixxi rotten, and we haven’t even landed. She sent me twelve pictures.”
He laughed. “Stetson, already on the hunt for her a fuckin dog. You started something.”
