Page 120 of Meet Me on Greenwood

His hand went to the back of my neck, cradling me as our bodies slammed together. It was just me and him in this elevator, in this time.

"I love you," I whispered.

His breath hitched as his muscles stiffened. I clenched around him and when he released, I went off too.

He leaned back taking me with him, I laid on his chest, and we stayed tangled together, both breathing hard. I’d done it. I’d made the decision to stay, and it felt so good.

He ran his fingers across my bare back and slow, methodical circles.

"You said yes," he said, still slightly disbelieving.

"I said yes," I confirmed.

He pulled up and looked at me—really looked. His expression was so open and unguarded.

Laughing, he kissed my temple and helped me stand, both of us taking stock of the damage. Even more beads were scattered across the elevator floor.

"Your dress—"

"I’m going to enjoy you ripping the rest of it off me later," I whispered, claiming him in a kiss once more. He leaned back and suddenly the hum quieted, replaced by the single ding of the elevator.

The doors opened, and a ring of gasps sounded outside.

A small crowd had gathered by the elevator. Had they heard us? Before I could contemplate further what this might mean, I attempted to move away from Houston, but he held on, bending down intent on planting a tender kiss on my lips.

"What are you doing?"

He smiled. "What I should have a long time ago," he said, before giving me one last kiss that left me boneless. When he was done, he held my hand tightly and the two of us turned to face the crowd together.

People stood around gaping, looking at one another as if to decide how to react. I recognized Lacey exchanging a glance with Rita, who tapped her gloved hand as if saying, I told you so. Edith and Sally looked stunned. Sarah walked forward, her expression one of fury. She stood at the front of the small crowd dressed in ivory silk, her blonde hair perfectly set as her eyes went from Houston, to me, to the ring on my finger, and back to Houston.

"In an elevator." Her voice was very controlled. "With her—with a Negro," she said, louder now. "How could you betray your own race?"

Houston’s eyes grew cold. "If I betrayed my race, it was when I was with you—"

The buzz around us grew louder as people shared their confusion.

"Never!" she yelled.

"Because," he paused, looking around the crowd. "My mother was Miriam Marie. She was born a slave, one of the last to be emancipated in Texas."

My eyes widened at the name. I’d heard it before, but I couldn’t place where.

Sarah’s voice reached new octaves as she screamed. "Why do you insist on humiliating me? It is bad enough that you left me for this!"

"That is enough." Houston's response was quiet, but final.

Rita stepped forward from the edge of the crowd. She stood tall and poised, the spitting image of Camille.

"You are a guest here," she said, "in our establishment. You will conduct yourself accordingly, or you will leave."

Sarah's face went red. "How dare you speak to me—"

"How dare you," Bernie said from behind her. The Black people in the room nodded in acknowledgment.

A heavyset white man near Sarah stepped forward. "You don't talk to our women like that."

"And yet," Bernie said, stepping forward, opening her jacket to reveal a pistol. "I just did."