Before I could respond, I saw someone walking toward our table out the corner of my eye.
“Langston,” I muttered, confused as hell.
The same man who’d driven me home from the club. That night started lining up in ways I wasn’t prepared for. A flutter moved through me. I wanted to be mad. I probably should’ve been. But all I could think about was DaVinci making sure I was safe. Watching it like this sent a warm little rush through me and pulled a smile out of me.
“Ms. Grant. Ms. Bryns,” he said with a slight nod. “Excuse the interruption.”
Omni was grinning like she just hit the lottery. That told me she’d already called her brother.
“Nope, don’t Ms. Grant me,” I said. “I know you, and I told you what?”
He smiled, and so did I.
“I was just doing my job, Miss Halo,” he said. “And I’m currently here to do another. These are for you.”
Langston stepped back out, then started coming in with bag after bag. The Le Creuset logo was loud and clear. My ears got hot, my skin prickled.
“He wanted you to have this,” Langston said.
I looked inside and saw both the flame and fig sets. Dutch oven, skillet, saucepan. Everything I’d been eyeing in the store.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I muttered.
“Oh, this is for Brixxi.”
The smaller bag was handed to me, and my hands shook. Why was this man gunning for my heart so damn bad? I opened the bag and pulled out a square box. Inside was a tiny gold Cuban collar with a B charm, one little diamond sitting in the letter. It was stupid cute and so thoughtful, it hit me harder than I expected.
Omni was full-on cackling now.
Langston produced a phone and held it toward me.
“He’s on the line.”
Omni leaned back, sipping her wine like this was premium entertainment.
I took the phone and put it to my ear.
“Hi, DaVinci.”
“Angel baby, I got one question.”
“What?” I couldn’t help the grin.
“Is fate something you believe in?” His voice came through deep enough to rattle my spine. I got up, stepping to the side for privacy.
“I won’t answer that, because is this fate or is this you being a stalker? That’s your thing, right?”
“There go that mouth again. You should know I don’t care about none of that shit you talking.”
I glanced at the army of bags.
“And I figured you’d eventually stop sending shit and show your face. Must still be scared.”
He exhaled, half laugh, half sigh.
“I remember it being you that said something about space,” he said. “I gave you that, and you still got an attitude. Nigga can’t win.”
The sound alone had my knees bending.
