“I own it. Omni runs the kitchen. My mom and I handle the business. Closing it for the night ain’t nothing. I just wanted you to be comfortable. No cameras, no crowd. Just us.”
“You’re full of surprises.”
“You have no idea.” He watched me for a second. “I just want to see you smile.”
“Mission accomplished,” I said, because my cheeks already hurt. “This is really nice, DaVinci. Thank you.”
“You don’t have to thank me, Angel. I’ve been wanting to do this since the day of the fire, for real.”
“When I put my hands on you?” I laughed, and so did he.
“Yes, when you yoked me up on my own driveway,” he said. “You were mad as hell and still the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. I knew then I wanted you close.”
I didn’t have a slick comeback for that, so I took another sip of wine and tried to get my face under control.
“Tell me something,” he said after a beat. “What are you scared of with this? With us?”
I stalled. “What do you mean?”
“Exactly that,” he said. “What’s sitting in the back of your head, making you want to run instead of seeing where this goes? I’d rather hear it from you than through somebody else.”
The easy answer was “nothing,” but that would’ve been a lie, and I was tired of lying to myself.
“I’m not scared of you,” I said finally. “I’m scared of the pattern. Men show up loud, then they get you and fade quietly and quickly. They cheat, they get comfortable, they get bored. Everybody swears they’re different till it’s time to be different.”
“I’ve had enough people vanish on me,” I said. “Some walked away, some life snatched from me. Either way, I’m not built for another exit. I want love, but I’m not out here volunteering for pain. But I also know that something like this requires taking a risk.”
He sat with that. No jokes, no ego, just silence and his eyes on mine.
Then his hand came up, knuckles grazing my jaw as he tilted my face toward him.
“I hear you,” he said. “And I’m not trippin about you for feeling like that. You earned that hesitation. But I’m not them.”
He let that sit for a second.
“I’m not promising perfection,” he went on. “I’m promising effort. Consistency. I’m promising I’m not walking away from you because shit gets hard or the season changes. Only way I’m leaving is if I’m taken up out of here, and even then, I’m raising hell about it.”
Happiness buzzed through me.
“Ask me something,” he said. “Anything you’ve been wanting to know. I’m wide open tonight.”
There were a million small things I could’ve asked, but they suddenly felt childish. Favorite color, favorite movie, whatever. I could learn all that just by being around him. What I needed to know was deeper. Real.
So, I asked the only thing that was important to me.
“What do you want from me?”
He didn’t blink. Didn’t look away. Didn’t even pretend to think about it.
“Everything.”
“That’s not specific.”
“You want specifics?” He shifted closer, his thigh pressing into mine again. “I want your time. Your attention. I want to be the one you call first, not fifth. I want your trust, and I want to earn it, not take it. I want to take care of you in ways you ain’t even thought about yet.”
His thumb brushed my collarbone. “I want to be your person. The one that shows up. The one that stays. And I want you to understand something—” his eyes held mine, “I don’t move like this for everybody. I don’t even like everybody. I’m too grown and too paid to be playing dress up with feelings. If I’m here, I’m here. And I’m not being cocky. I’m just saying.”
My heart was pounding so hard I could feel it in my ears.
