Page 42 of The Sweetest Return

“I’m not waiting on anybody.”

Malcolm laughed outright. “Aight.”

“Fuck you.”

“See? Jaw got tighter.”

Tee finally laughed.

I looked away from both of them before Malcolm got too much from my face.

The room moved around us in perfume, expensive shoes over wood floors, old nicknames, line brothers greeting each other with handshakes that had survived twenty years, and people slipping right back into versions of themselves AWU still remembered.

Malcolm watched me for another second.

“Panther,” he muttered.

“Man, shut the fuck up.”

Tee laughed into his drink.

“I’m done,” Malcolm said, which meant absolutely nothing.

Thankfully, Tee shifted the conversation toward easier shit. Friday’s tailgate sponsorship. Somebody’s divorce. Somebody’s new baby. Which alumni still dressed like they were nineteen and needed somebody who loved them to say so.

I joined in when I had something to say. Shook hands when people came over. Laughed when Tee started telling a story he had already improved at least thirty percent since the last time I heard it.

I was good.

Until the door opened again.

My eyes went there before I could stop them.

Malcolm made a low sound beside me.

I didn’t even look at him.

“Say one fucking word.”

“Didn’t say shit.”

He didn’t have to.

Then Milan Carr appeared at my elbow like she had been waiting on the angle.

“Dre.”

Milan had always been beautiful in a way that took upkeep and knew it did. Everything about her looked placed, from the sleek hair to the glow on her deep-brown shoulders to a black dress that knew exactly where to stop. She smiled up at me like getting a man’s attention had never required much effort.

“You took your time,” she said, fingertips brushing the sleeve of my jacket. “I was starting to think you weren’t coming.”

“I’ve been here all of ten minutes.”

“And somehow you already look like you own the room.”

I tipped my head. “You trying to flatter me, Milan?”

She smiled, slow and pretty, then licked her lips. “Maybe.”