Together. That word feels different tonight. This man is not trying to control us. He’s choosing us. He’s choosing the responsibility that comes along with a love that the world sees as complicated. Most importantly, in choosing us—he’s letting himself be chosen back.
I’ve been living a life filled with survival and in this moment I don’t feel like I’m in fight or flight mode. It feels like something I’m allowed to enjoy. Especially wrapped between the two people I love. Listening to Zaria’s heartbeat steady beneath my ear shows me something quietly powerful.
This isn’t chaos—it’s joy and I’m not afraid of what comes next.
The private hangar says money.
Not obnoxiously or flashy. Just… quiet power. Polished concrete floors and soft lighting. A sleek jet sits on the runway.
Zaria grabs my hand before we even step fully inside.
“Okay,” she whispers under her breath, curls bouncing around her shoulders. “Wow. This is how the other half lives.”
I laugh softly because I’m just as stunned. I knew the Black family was wealthy but I never cared to know how much so because they were always generous and inclusive when I was around.
Backless maxi dresses made up our casual flight wardrobe. The vibrant emerald-and-coral tropical print rests softly against my skin. My hair is up in a messy curly ponytail with loose piecesframing my face. Zaria’s curls are freely cascading down her back and brushing her shoulders every time she turns her head.
We look vacation ready. But this? This is another level. Walking toward a private jet that belongs to your man? That shit hits way different. The stairs are already lowered.
And when we step inside—Calil is waiting. I stop mid-step when I notice five dozen long-stem roses in each arm. He looks like pure temptation in a sand-colored linen short set. The way it hugs his muscular frame makes me bite my lip. Crisp white Air Force 1s and a diamond chain that keeps catching the cabin light. A fresh haircut and vintage Rolex top off the ensemble.
His legs are slightly cocked. His posture is relaxed as if this is just another Tuesday.
Zaria inhales slowly. “Jesus.”
I can’t help but to chuckle.
She looks at me sideways. “What’s funny?”
I grin with a shake of my head. “This man got us gone, don’t he?”
Zaria doesn’t hesitate. “As fuck.”
Calil’s grin widens when we approach.
I step up first to take the roses from him and kiss him slowly.
“Damn, Professor,” I murmur against his lips. “I didn’t know teaching paid like this.”
He laughs. Full. Loud. Unbothered.
“It doesn’t,” he replies easily. “But being a silent partner in multiple multimillion-dollar businesses does.”
I blink. “Excuse me?”
We settle into the plush leather seats as the cabin door closes.
“Caleb’s sports enterprise,” he begins casually. “BlackSphere Technologies. Maison Noire and a few others.”
Zaria’s eyebrows lift.
“Maison Noire?” she repeats.
“Dana expanded it,” he explains. “Beyond wine. Handcrafted stemware, decanters, serving trays, cocktail sets, recipe books. Full lifestyle brand now.”
The way he says it—calm, confident, unhurried—does something to me.
He leans back in his seat with his legs slightly spread. He has an arm draped over the armrest as if he owns the sky and everything in it.
