Her soft laugh slid through the speaker. “You busy?”
“Nah.”
“Good. I need you.”
Every muscle in my body tightened at those words.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” she said quickly. “I just… wanna go somewhere with you tonight.”
I frowned. “You asking me on a date?”
“You kidnap me, drag me to the altar, and I can’t get a lil’ date? Niggas, I swear.”
The humor in her voice was infectious, and just like that, my whole damn mood shifted.
“What time?”
“Come back to the Stone House around six. Get ready. Dress casually,” she instructed.
The line clicked dead before I could question her further.
Juvie twisted around in his seat immediately, nosy ass. “What she say?”
I tried not to grin. Shiii, I failed. Horribly.
“She need me.”
“Look at this nigga cheesing. Pitiful,” Real muttered.
“Shut up. I know yo’ ass ain’t?—”
“We ain’t talking about me, though,” he evaded smoothly.
I returned to the Stone House before she did. By the time I showered and dressed in jeans, a t-shirt, and some Bottega Veneta sneakers, the sun was low and golden through the windows, and the cicadas were warming up for the night to come. I barely made it downstairs before Theory appeared in front of me.
And damn.
My wife had on this little skirt that showed off all her soft, golden thighs and a top that fit like it loved her as much as I did. Gold hoops brushed her neck and her curls spilled aroundher shoulders. Gloss made her lips shine in the house’s warm lighting and she was holding a big ass beach bag.
I frowned immediately. “Where you going with luggage?”
She kissed her teeth. “Targen, don’t start. It’s not luggage.”
“Then why it look like you packed for a hostage situation?”
“Mind your business,” she replied sweetly.
Yeah. That sounded more like my wife. I walked over and kissed her slowly, relieved just to feel her melt against me again.
“Where you been?” I murmured against her mouth.
Something that looked like guilt flitted across her face then. Or maybe it was just softness. I was definitely treating my girl with grace.
“I’m right here with you,” she whispered.
That answer soothed something troubled inside me. Outside, Mikhail handed me the truck keys. He and Juvie were riding in a separate car. Real sat laughing on the porch swing like he knew something I didn’t, ol’ suspicious ass nigga. I opened Theory’s door and she slid into the passenger seat holding tight to that big ass bag that didn’t match a damn thing. Ten minutes later, she directed me down Pauli Murray Avenue, then had me take a right on Magnolia Lane. She finally led me into the lot of a small theater.
