After the short drive, I pulled into my driveway. The sight of my home, with someone waiting inside, was something I hadn't realized I was missing until it happened.
I got out and headed to the door. I quietly unlocked it, expecting to find Gisselle sleeping or working late on a design. Inside, I stepped into a transformation. The living room furniture had been pushed back, making space for a blanket spread across the floor. Arranged pillows looked comfortable, surrounded by an assortment of snacks, a bottle of wine, and two glasses. The rarely used TV was on the menu screen for some movie I didn't recognize.
Gisselle looked up from her spot on the blanket. A smile spread across her face. She was wearing one of my fire department T-shirts, the fabric too large on her frame, with a pair of leggings.
"There's my guy," she declared, her voice amused.
"You're beautiful," I replied honestly as I melted at the sight of her.
Gisselle playfully rolled her eyes, but the smile remained. "You're such a charmer. You look beat. Come sit before you fall over."
I kicked off my boots. "Let me grab a shower first. What's all this?"
"Movie night. I figured, after today, we both deserve something normal."
"You have no idea how much I needed this. Guess who's building? It's Councilman Whitaker's."
"Shut up! Was he there?"
"Front and center for the cameras, acting very concerned about his property," I confirmed.
"I bet. That's what he gets. So what happens now?"
"We're building our case, documenting everything, and following the evidence."
I didn't want to think about it any longer tonight.
"In the meantime, go shower. You smell like smoke. The food will be ready when you get back."
I stood there for a moment, staring. This was new for me — someone waiting up with dinner, caring about the state I was in when I returned from work. Yeah, my sister, Kiara, checked on me, but this was different, more intimate.
A smile tugged at my mouth as I headed toward the stairs. "Yes, ma'am."
Upstairs, I undressed and entered the shower. The hot water hit my shoulders with a blessed intensity, washing away the smoke and some of the tension I carried. I braced my hands against the shower wall and let my head drop, watching the day's problems spiral down the drain. Yet, somewhere in the back of my mind, the clock was ticking.
I forced my thoughts away from the investigation. Instead, I focused on the woman downstairs cooking and how she made a space for herself in my house without displacing me. The way she challenged me made me laugh. The way she trembled against me after the council meeting earlier allowed me to see her vulnerability, which I suspected she rarely showed to anyone.
I still couldn't believe Gisselle was here. Somehow, we found each other, and I allowed myself to care this much this quickly when I had kept everyone else at arm's length for so long.
Water ran into my eyes, and I blinked it away, reaching for the soap. I washed up, got out of the shower, dried off, put on clean clothes, and went downstairs to the woman who waited up for me. The rest could wait until tomorrow.
Downstairs, neo-soul played on the sound system. The table was set for two, with pasta steaming in a large bowl, a simple salad, and garlic bread.
"You didn't have to do all of this," I said.
Gisselle glanced up, smiling. "I know, but I know you forgot to eat, and it helped me not to overthink shit."
I chuckled. "It smells amazing."
"Nothing fancy, pasta puttanesca. Sit before it gets cold." She gestured toward the table.
I obeyed as she poured two glasses of red wine and joined me. My first bite confirmed what my nose had already told me. Gisselle could cook. The pasta was al dente, the way I liked it, and the sauce seasoned to perfection.
"Damn, where'd you learn to cook like this?" I asked after my first bite.
"My mom. She believes every Black, educated woman should know how to make at least five dishes that will make her man question his life choices." She twirled pasta around her fork.
I laughed. "This would definitely qualify, but you got four more to go."
