Page 161 of The Sweetest Return

That was the truth beneath every ignored call.

I missed his arm around my waist. The peace on his face while he slept. The way he looked at me when he thought I wasn't paying attention.

And yes, I missed his mouth too because I was human and there was no reason to start lying now. His mouth, his hands, his voice, his body moving with mine like the filth and the feeling had always known exactly where to find each other.

But desire wasn't the reason I finally picked up the phone.

Dre had asked me to talk to him.

The younger version of me had spent too much time hoping he would somehow understand what I refused to say.

I could not ask grown Dre to communicate differently while repeating my own old habits.

I wrapped my hand around the phone and exhaled.

“Girl.”

Then I called him.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Isat behind my desk with my phone in my hand, looking at Imani’s name like staring hard enough could make it ring.

Downtown Pittsburgh moved outside the windows beneath a gray sky. People crossed Grant with coffee, bags, umbrellas, somewhere to be. From this high up, the city looked easier to manage than it actually was.

My office usually gave me that same illusion.

Dark walnut. Leather chairs. Glass. Signed jerseys, magazine covers, photographs from business openings and football seasons. Beyond my door, people answered phones and handled problems before most of them reached me. My name sat on contracts, checks, buildings, and decisions.

Most days, knowing what to do was my specialty.

Imani had gone quiet, and none of that meant shit.

My businesses didn't care.

Jones Motor Group had two contracts kicked back from Wexford because the financing terms were wrong. Omar wanted to handle it by email, which meant Omar was about to turn a correctable mistake into a fight with timestamps.

“Call Terrance,” I told him.

“He messed up two contracts.”

“Then call him and figure out why. Training or warning. Pick one after you know.”

“You always make me be reasonable.”

“I pay you too much for emotional emails.”

“You send emotional emails.”

“I own the company.”

“That is not a leadership principle.”

“It is today.”

He laughed and called.

North & Vine had a chef ready to threaten a produce vendor over mushrooms, and rain was coming fast enough to make Jones Outdoor move three crews. I handled both, then called Pops after he texted me a route sheet with nothing but a question mark.