“I’m working on it.”
“How? I need to lock in the guest list.”
“You’ll see.” I grinned. “Just trust me.”
She laughed. “That’s what worries me. Last time you said that, you bought a restaurant.”
“And it’s doing great, so clearly you should trust me more. I never get credit.”
“Get out of my office, boy.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I headed to the door, then paused. “Ma?”
“Yeah, baby?”
“Thanks for always checking on me. No matter how old I get.”
“Always, Vinny. That’s what mamas do.” She pointed toward the door. “Now go get your girl.”
I left her office with a smile creeping onto my face, my mind already focused on what was next. I was counting down until I could see Halo again.It felt like I was about to get out of prison or something. She had my head all messed up.
My phone buzzed as I stepped into the elevator.
Jason the Jeweler:Mr. Bryns, everything’s ready. You can pick it up anytime.
I smiled down at the screen and typed back:
Me:Perfect. I’ll be there in 20 minutes.
I pocketed my phone and leaned back against the elevator wall. In the reflection of the polished doors, all I could see was her face. That smile. The way her eyes lit up when she was amused, but trying not to show it.
When my mom asked how she was different, I could’ve said more. I could’ve told her about the way Halo moved through the world, fierce and unapologetic, confident without needing applause. She could be out here popping her shit. She was lowkey famous in her own right, saving lives and being damn good at it. But my angel kept it simple. Stayed off social media. Kept her business her business.
I respected it.
I wanted to see more of her. Wanted to know what else she was made of beyond the uniform, beyond the tough exterior she gave the world, beyond that smartass mouth of hers. And maybe that's what had me hooked. Halo didn't need me to make her somebody. She already was somebody. I just wanted to be the one she let close enough to see it all.
Imade coffee strong enough to raise the dead and pretended it could carry me through the last two hours of the day tour. I usually worked nights, but thanks to the shift change, I was stuck on days listening to everybody talk about their New Year’s plans like we didn’t all work in a job where the clock never cared what holiday it was.
I hadn’t gotten a single call, gift, or text from DaVinci since lunch with Omni a few days ago. Not one. And I knew his stalking ass had my information by now. It was what I asked for, but the quiet felt strange. I could feel the absence of him like a draft, that open space where his presence had been nudging at the edges of my day.
I missed it. I missed being on his mind.
I needed time to think, sure, but I also liked his attention on me. I could at least tell myself the truth in my own head. After that phone call at Chy Bella, after the way he said angel, after he promised he would show up, it was pointless pretending I was still on the fence.
Omni had read me right. I was already in, just refusing to put language to it. I needed to be just as locked up as his crazy ass, and that was the truth. My heart, my mind, and my pussy were all pulling in different directions, and I was stuck in the middle pretending I was unbothered. Seeinghim so damn put together at the grand opening didn’t help. That phone call didn’t help either. Hearing him talk about taking care of every part of me kept running in the back of my mind whenever the day got too still.
Yeah. I was cooked.
The fire had lit something, and neither one of us had the capacity to put it out. We were just letting it ride low, both pretending it was about space and time, when really, I was waiting to see if he showed up like he said.
And my week was up.
So either he was going to walk through the station doors, or he’d send Langston with some over-the-top gesture that would make me want to cuss him out while I hid a smile.
I tried not to think about the gift I had tucked in my locker for him. It was a reminder of the influence he already had on me. This was new for me. Besides my daddy, I'd never gotten a man a damn thing, let alone spent three days calling around to find it. Omni had slipped up and told me he collected paperbacks and read at least three books every year to keep himself from growing stagnant. That was all it took. I started the hunt and found his requested reads for the upcoming year—Episodes: The Diary of a Recovering Mad Man by Gucci Mane and the books that came before it. I found them at a Black-owned bookstore in East Silverrun. It was so cute, I even picked up some books for myself. I'd been dying to get my hands on the special edition of Stolen Matrimony by Tay Mo’'Nae. Just another thing we had in common.
“Someone special?” she'd asked.
