Halfway through the meal, she leaned back and sighed. “This is the best date I’ve ever been on,” she said, almost to herself.
That confession hit me tenderly. I could hear how rare ease had been for her. She seemed to be surprised that life could be so soft.
“You haven’t seen nothing yet,” I answered.
She laughed, and the sound wrapped around me. I held it like something precious.
We talked more about books and our future goals.
“I’m tired of watching kids get claimed by the same corners that almost buried me,” I said. “They deserve more than survival.”
“I know that feeling. I’m tired of watching smart, hurting children get swept up in systems that don’t see them. I want to be a consistentyesin their lives.”
“We on the same page. Different chapters, same book,” I said, a small smile tugging at my mouth.
And I meant that too. Our missions matched. Our hearts moved the same. That was a rare alignment. That was stuff not to be ignored when it walked into your life in a red dress.
After dinner, I walked her back to the truck. The night air settled around us, cooler now. The parking lot lights threw a gold glow across her hair. Her perfume still lingered around us like she’d left sweetness everywhere she went. When I closed her door and went around to my side, she slid over again and opened my door from the inside, the same gentle reflex as before.
That small act did something for me. It wasn’t flashy. It was care that was quiet, natural, and intentional. She didn’t know how deep that went for a man who’d been doing everything alone for so long. She didn’t know how it felt to be considered.
I sat down, closed it, but didn’t start the engine right away.
She looked at me with curiosity on her face.
“Can I kiss you?” I asked, my voice low. “I’m not finna play no guessing games with you.”
She nodded once.
I leaned in slowly, giving her space to change her mind. She didn’t. I kissed her—soft, warm, unhurried. Her hand found my chest, and everything in me settled and sparked at once. It felt like permission, . . . a beginning that didn’t need to rush.
When we pulled back, her eyes were a little unfocused. Mine probably were too.
“Yeah, that’s mine,” I murmured.
It came out quiet, possessive, protective—no threat in it, just claim.
She laughed, breath shaky. “You are so sure.”
“I am. You’ll catch up.”
By the time we pulled up to her house, Mel’s car was already in the driveway, lights off like she’d been there a minute. She really had done exactly what she said on FaceTime. She swung by my spot after we left, picked up the twins and Nan, and brought them over here for their movie night.
I walked Solé to the door. Nan had it open before we could even knock, like she was up listening for tires in the driveway.
“How was it?” she asked, eyes bouncing between us, soaking it all in.
“Perfect,” Solé said, cheeks glowing.
I hugged Nan and kissed her forehead. “I already told you once, but I will tell you again. You will be in a wedding by the end of the year. Let me know when you go shopping. I will buy your dress and new shoes myself.”
Nan grinned. “I already claimed that. Night, baby.”
Reagan and Reece were on the couch with Mel, with snack bowls everywhere, movie paused. The second they saw us, the twins screamed and clapped, and Mel threw her hands up likefinally.Their extra warmed me. They’d never seen me move like this. My life had been them, and I kept their world protected: no random women, no questionable energy, no strangers around my babies.
“We ship this,” Reagan said.
“This is canon,” Reece added.
