I smiled, shaking my head. “Bring them with you. I want to put an offer in on this place before someone else does.”
“Nah,” he said, voice still soft but firm. “Stormi, this your business. It’ll be in your name. You don’t need me to come or sign anything. You got the cash in the truck and the card on you. Do your thing, Wifey.”
I froze. My mouth went dry. The space was two-hundred and seventy-five thousand dollars and yeah, I drove a hundred-thousand-dollar truck, slept in a $4.5 million home, and wore jewelry that cost more than what I used to make in a year. But allof that was Seth. His money. His grind. His world. And even though he never threw it in my face, something in me still hesitated every time I had to spend his money. Especially this much.
“Seth,” I whispered, walking toward the door and lowering my voice so Jo wouldn’t overhear. “This space is two hundred seventy-five thousand dollars.” “Okay,” he said simply.
Just like that. Like I’d said, it was seventy-five dollars.
“I don’t want to spend that much of your money without you,” I said softly, pacing the empty hallway. “I haven’t worked in almost two years. I just”
“That’s your money, Stormi,” he cut in, voice low but steady.
“But I haven’t”
Click. Silence.
“Hello?” I said, pulling the phone back to check the screen. The call had ended.
He hung up on me. I just stood there staring at my wallpaper, a photo of all three of my boys knocked out on our bed, arms and legs everywhere, Seth’s big hand resting protectively on their backs even in sleep.
My throat tightened. I called back once. No answer. Twice. Straight to voicemail. Three times. Still nothing and then my phone buzzed.
Hubby: Do your thing, Wifey
I exhaled, biting back a smile as the tears pricked my eyes. That man always reminding me who I was, even when I forgot. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes for a second, and told myself,” Alright, Stormi. Big girl panties. Handle your business. No more second guessing. No more asking permission to shine.”
“So, are we going with it?” the realtor asked as she rounded the corner, tablet in hand, her heels clicking against the tile.
“Yes,” I said, exhaling again not out of nerves this time, but relief that a decision was finally made.
“Okay!” she said, smiling wide, clapping her hands together like this was her win too.
“Didn’t you say this owner also owns the last property we saw?” I asked, straightening my posture and slipping back into business mode.
“Yes, she does,” the realtor nodded. “She’s an older woman, been looking to sell her properties before she passes. Wants them in good hands.”
“Then put an offer in,” I said, my tone steady now. “I’ll give her four hundred and twenty thousand for both.” The words cameout before I could overthink them; bold, clear, and confident. The kind of thing the old Stormi would’ve choked on.
Jo came strolling in right on cue, phone in her hand, chewing gum like she owned the building. “Ms. Stormi Knight Greene,” she said, dragging my name out like it tasted good. “You are exactly who you think you are.”
I blinked. “Jo, what?”
She grinned, her gold tooth flashing when she laughed. “That’s what the young folks say now. It’s like calling you a bad bitch but dressed up in church clothes.”
The realtor burst out laughing, trying to cover it up with a cough. I shook my head, chuckling. “You so crazy,” I said, leaning down to kiss her forehead when she rested her head against my shoulder. For a second, I just held her there the woman who once drove me crazy now standing beside me, proud like she’d birthed a boss.
“Give me a call when it’s time to sign the paperwork,” I told the realtor, slipping my phone back into my purse. “I hope to hear from you soon.”
“You definitely will,” she said, still smiling, probably already calculating that commission.
As Jo and I stepped out into the sun, I paused on the sidewalk for a second, letting the light hit my face. The air smelled like freshly cut grass and new beginnings.
Jo looped her arm through mine, humming low like she always did when she was happy.
“What?” I asked, side eyeing her as we walked toward the truck.
“Nothing,” she said, that sly grin playing on her lips. “Just proud of you, that’s all. My baby out here buying buildings like groceries.”
