“He did.” He rubbed his chin. “He said you must’ve been special for me to go through all this trouble.”
I smiled. Love told me how his godfather cursed him out about not calling once he got out of jail. “I like him. He’s funny as hell.”
He reminded me of the cool uncle at the family reunion, the one everybody wanna be around. Love started playing with each of my fingers, one by one.
“Yeah, he has me rolling all the time,” he admitted, not lifting his head up. What he found about my fingers so interesting?
“Did you talk to Valentine again after the first time he got arrested?” I thought it was time I told him about Valentine and his lawyer friend. I was not tryna keep anything from him.
“Nah, figured they ain’t letting him use the phone.”
Biting my lip in nervousness, I said, “I have to tell you something.”
He finally locked eyes with me, scanning my face. “Talk to me.”
For a second, I lost focus on the task at hand. This man was so damn sexy. I’d been doing good all night, behaving myself. I pulled my hand back from his for the first time, sitting it in my lap.
“Tiffani, the one I was talking about earlier, she’s Valentine’s ex-girlfriend, right?” I asked, ignoring his frown from loss of contact. I didn’t think I could keep it together for much longer.
Clearing his throat, he replied. “Yeah, ain’t seen her in a while though. Didn’t know she moved back.”
I nodded, letting out a breath. “She did, with her husband.”
I took a sip of my wine just to have something to do while he anxiously waited for me to finish.
“Treyvon,” I blurted out.
“Trey, my lawyer?” His voice held a strange tone.
“Yes,” I whispered.
Falling back against his seat, he ran his hand down his face. “The fuck, that shit is wild.” Folding his arms across his chest, his eyes narrowed. “He knows about Valentine?”
“She told him earlier today.” He zoned out in thought.
“Damn, probably why he ain’t answer my phone call.”
Sitting up straighter in my seat, I raised my hand to stop him from making any false accusations. “He said he’ll still help him, though.”
He cocked his head back as if I offended him. “Shit, he better. I pay his ass good money.”
“You don’t feel some type of way?”
“Nah, I ain’t worried about all that.” He dismissed the statement, his eyes gazing at me with longing. “I’m focused on us.”
He rose to his feet, my eyes following his every move. It reminded me of when he did this before, got up from his seat and asked me to —
“Dance with me.” His voice broke through my walk down memory lane, his hand in front of me to grab onto. Clasping my hand in his, I trailed behind him to the dance floor.
‘Perfect’by Otis Kane blasted through the speakers and it felt like a sense of déjà vu.
“Oh! You meant do-over, do-over,” I joked to cover up how nervous I was.
“Yup! Ain’t right without our song,” he claimed.
My eyebrows knitted together. “Our song, huh? I didn't know we had one of those.”
This was new information for me, and of course, it wouldn’t be right if I didn’t step on his feet by accident.
