The woman was standing too close to Zio.
I watched her hand slide onto his forearm. She didn’t grab him like I did—possessive and hungry. She touched him like she already owned a piece of him. Like she was just checking on her investment.
I felt the liquor in my veins turn to acid. I walked over, my steps unsteady on the flagstones, but I managed to stay upright. I heard her voice, sweet and pleading. “…just think about it, Z. We had a plan. I know you needed time to sow your oats. You should be ready to settle down. I’m here now. We can pick up where we left off.”
I stopped a few feet away, swaying slightly. “Pick up what, exactly?” My voice came out louder than I intended, slurring and shit.
They both turned.
“Sky,” Zio started, moving toward me, but I held up a hand.
Willow looked me up and down, a faint smirk on her lips as she took in my dress and my clearly tipsy state. “You must be the… friend,” she said.
“I’m his woman,” I shot back, shoving a finger in her direction. “And what the fuck do you mean, ‘pick up where y’all left off’?”
Zio closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Sky, don’t.”
“Don’t what?” I said, my voice rising. “Don’t interrupt your little reunion? My bad. Y’all looked so cozy over here, planning y’all’s future while you left me in there doing shots with your uncle! This the second time in a week I found you with a woman inyour face. You must want to square up with me, Zio”I was talking crazy, but I couldn’t stop.
Willow’s smirk hardened. She looked at me more intently, her head cocking to the side. “Why do you look so familiar?” she asked herself. Then her eyes widened. “Oh my God. You’re Sky. The author Sky. I follow you on Instagram and TikTok.” Her tone dripped with sweetness. “I love your books.”
I narrowed my eyes at her. “Nah, don’t change the subject. Fuck them books” Maybe if I wasn’t drunk and a little bit high, I would have simply said thank you.
“Chill, baby, I was about to tell her about you.”
I looked at Zio. “Chill? Whose side are you on? She should chill.”
Before he could answer, Mrs. Brenda’s voice came out of nowhere.
“Willow, baby, go on home. I told you to leave it be earlier. I told you he was bring that woman. Now you just starting messy.” She was standing in the doorway, her gaze fixed on her goddaughter. It wasn’t a request.
Willow’s smile tightened, but she obeyed, gliding past me.
Mrs. Brenda then looked at Zio. “You. Fix this. Take her upstairs.” Then her eyes landed on me. “And you, little high ass, smoking them weeds, put on one of my jackets before your coochie catches a cold. Then come to the kitchen to help us.” She disappeared inside.
I stood there. Zio reached for me, but I jerked my arm away.
He moved fast. One second later his hands were at my waist. He just lifted me clean off the ground and tossed me over his shoulder like a sack of grits, his hand smoothing down my skirt, holding it against my thighs.
The world tipped upside down. "Zio! Put me down! Put me the fuck down!" I beat at his back with my fists, my heels kicking air. I could hear people laughing.
"Stop fighting' me, Sky," he grunted, his arm like an iron bar across the back of my thighs, holding me in place. He started walking, calm as you please, right past the stunned people on the patio and back toward the sliding door.
He carried me up a set of stairs and set me down in a bedroom. The room swayed. Or maybe I did.
It was his childhood room, I could tell—frozen at the edge of manhood. A faded poster of LeBron James in a Cavaliers jersey was tacked to one wall. Trophies for basketball and culinary arts sat dusty on a bookshelf crammed with old Stephen King paperbacks. Thick King Magazine centerfold magazine pages where taped to the ceiling. The queen-size bed was made with a simple blue comforter.
"Are you done?" he asked when my eyes made it back to his.
“You set me up.” Him lifting me must have shaken the liquor loose in my brain. My words felt thicker and slower. “You bring me here… blindly… let me get drunk… and then you’re laughing in that woman’s face? The fuck, Zio?”
“Sky, you’re drunk,” he said softly. He guided me to sit on the edge of the bed. “Lay down. Just for a minute.”
The fight drained out of me, replaced by exhaustion. I wasn’t even mad. Just so fucking anxious. I acted stupid when I was anxious, that’s why I kept to myself most time. I looked up at him, my vision blurring at the edges, wondering how I could explain that to him.
“Lay with me,” I whispered. “Just ‘til I sleep.”
He kicked off his shoes, no hesitation. He lay down beside me on top of the comforter and pulled me against his chest. I curled into him, my face buried in the cotton of his shirt, breathing in his familiar scent.
