“What you so chipper about?”
She shrugged, spinning around to face me, one eyebrow raised like she had a secret. “We’re going shopping. Your cousin’s wedding is next week. I need a dress. A new one. Something that’s not last season. I need to look the part.”
I nodded. “Cool. Take the card. Get what you want.”
She rolled her eyes. “That’s not what I meant when I saidwe’re. I meant I’m going out and I want you to come with me.”
I stared at her, lips parting just slightly. “You wanna kick it with me?”
She dropped a strawberry in her mouth, exaggerated the chewing, then placed her hand on her hip. “Is that such a wild idea? Or is that not allowed?”
It was, and it wasn’t. We didn’t move like that. Besides Sasha Roe, we hadn’t really stepped out together at all. But the way she said it made it sound less like a request and more like a challenge.
“Where we goin’?”
She shrugged again, curling her lip like it wasn’t that serious. “I need heels. So... maybe we hit that new boutique downtown first for my dress. My girl should be there. Then the mall. Or do you have someone?”
“I can make some calls and shit for you.”
“No, no, don’t worry about it. Kayla can handle it. So will you come with me?”
I didn’t answer right away. Instead, I looked her over, took in the ease she wore on her face, and told myself it wouldn’t hurt to take a few hours.
“Aight,” I said finally. “But we’re eatin’ first. Somewhere lowkey.”
She lit up. Not in a childish way—but in that grown woman,I’m glad you chose mekinda way. And I couldn’t lie; a nigga was happy to be chosen also.
“Deal.” She leaned in and brushed her lips against mine, quick, soft. She wanted to see if I’d stop her. I didn’t.
She walked off smiling, and I sat there knowing we were close to crossing a line we couldn’t go back over.
Within twenty minutes, we were ready and out the door. We ended up at this tucked-away cafe near the river. Nobody knew me there. Nobody expected anything. I could sit with her and justbe. She joked that the menu was bougie, even for her. Her laugh was genuine, her head thrown back, with no filter. I don’t think I’d ever met anyone as happy as her.
Over the best Caesar salads in the city, she told me about her business, how much she loved it, how long she’d been building it with her own two hands.
“I started with weddings,” she said, forking salad. “Just me, a clipboard, and a vision board I printed at the UPS store.”
I raised an eyebrow. “You planned people’s biggest day with a vision board?”
She laughed, dabbing at her mouth with her napkin. “Don’t do me. I had the taste, but I didn’t have the funds. But I was good. Booked six weddings that first year, word of mouth only.”
“That’s hustle.”
“I don’t play about my name,” she said, her eyes locking with mine. “I’m not flashy, but I’m excellent. Always have been.”
“You still in it for the weddings?”
“Not really. I mean, I’ll do ‘em, but I pivoted into private events, luxury dinners, brand launches, retreats. Black women with coin who want a soft life, no chaos. That’s my niche now.”
I nodded, impressed. “So, you’re the one behind all those flower walls and neon signs I see on the ‘gram?”
She smirked. “Those are the basic girls. I do candlelit beaches in Cabo, mirrored table spreads in Aspen, multi-sensory installs with custom scents and soundscapes.”
“Damn.” I leaned back, eyes narrowing, seeing her differently. “You really do your big one.”
“I do. And my team knows not to book me for a picnic and a Polaroid. I’m not a DIY girl. I’m a premier girlie.”
“Nah, you not.” I shook my head, thinking back. “I admired the shit you did for my dinner. I know that night’s a sore spot, but your work blew me away.”
