“I want him to be sure. Check in with himself once he’s off the sex high and the trauma wave isn’t so fresh.”
“Look at you being all wise and mature.” She double snaps her fingers in praise, then adds, “That whole brother thing, though… you been living through a soap opera. How’s Dice handling it?”
“They’re bonding over texts and playlists. Damon’s already obsessed. Dice is still catching up, but he likes the kid. It’s sweet, honestly. And I love this for him.”
“What about the father?” she asks, disdain lacing her voice.
“That’s a hard no. Dice isn’t ready. Not even close.”
“Can’t blame him. What kind of man leaves his child without a trace?”
“Yeah.” I sigh. “Dice doesn’t know the full story. But if it were me, I’d want to hear it. Just to put some context on the pain and probably cuss him out, make myself feel better.”
“That’s not Dice’s style.”
“I know. That’s why I’m not pushing him either way. I’m just standing by him. Whatever he decides… whatever he needs.”
Rayne studies me, her mouth curving into a big ole sappy grin. “You really love him.”
“Girl, stop with that face. You know I do.”
“Yeah, but this is a whole other level. You up on the rooftop with that fiancée glow.”
“Not gonna ride that high yet. Dice might wake up and realize he lost his damned mind. Who proposes this fast?”
“Fast? Girl, the two of you have been living in delulu land for years. Pretending to be just friends, then pretending to be just fuck buddies. Now the blinders are finally off, and you’reskipping half the steps most people walk through. When have you and Dice ever done things like normal folks?”
“You right about that.”
“Just promise me something.”
“What?”
“You won’t wear black combat boots with your wedding dress. My heart can’t take that.”
I laugh, shaking my head again, but my chest goes tight. I don’t need marriage. All I need is Dice. In New York. Waking up next to me and making breakfast together. If I have that, nothing else matters.
Chapter Forty-Six
Dice
It’s for us.
Ibarely get one foot inside Docks before I hear that unmistakable throat clear. Then?—
“Dyson?”
Maurice always says my name like it’s got extra syllables.
I wheel my record case to a stop on the way to the booth, where I was about to set up for the night. One day back and I’m already missing my queen with my whole chest. Keeping busy is survival.
I turn to face the man who could be my father-in-law, if Lot says yes. Doubt he’s ready for that. But I am.
Lot’s worried I was just caught up in a moment. Can’t fault her for that. One minute I’m doubting if I can make it in New York, the next I’m asking her to lock in on marriage. That’s me. Once I move past fear or whatever’s holding me back, I don’t half step. I clear the final hurdle and book it to the finish line.
“Maurice,” I say, tone neutral, but my guard’s always up with him.
“I’d like a word. In my office.” No smile. No small talk. Starch-stiff button-down, razor-crease slacks, and posture like I’m about to get audited.
