Page 180 of The Wright Man

"Angie..." she said in that voice. The one that meant I wasn't getting out of this without a full emotional audit and at least one diagram.

"Bella, please—"

"'Please' nothing." She waved me off. "Tell me everything. Where were you? What did he say? What was the moment that took y'all from childhood besties to clothes on the floor? How many positions?"

She wiggled her eyebrows and gave me the kind of look that made it very clear she was not here for vague metaphors or discretion.

I tried to bite back a smile, but it snuck out in a giggle that gave me away immediately.

"There were no positions," I squeaked. "We didn't have sex."

Bella raised an eyebrow. I could feel the skeptical energy radiating off her like sage smoke. That look meant I had three seconds to clarify.

I cracked again. "But the man is very good with his hands."

Bella stepped back and gave me a once-over, nodding slowly like she was a seasoned psychic reading my aura.

"I can see that. Your pupils are dilated, your aura's glowing, and you're wearing his T-shirt and his boxers. Yup—welcome to the He Made Me Forget My Middle Name Club."

She bumped her shoulder against mine with a playful giggle, but then something in her expression shifted. She sobered, her eyes growing a little more focused, a little more sister than smartass.

"Wait... Are you okay though?" she asked softly. "Because Maleek said you freaked out earlier. Like, full-on Runaway Bride after a kiss." Her brows furrowed, her voice tinged with concern. "How the hell did we get from that to... orgasms and wearing his boxers at 1 a.m.?"

I sighed. The weight of everything that had happened today—the memories, the grief, the longing, the fear—pressed heavy on my chest again. That kiss in the boxing room felt like a lifetime ago, even though it hadn't even been twelve hours.

"Well, Maleek and I—"

"If y'all gonna gossip about me," Maleek called from the kitchen, "do it in my face like women."

I snorted and Bella rolled her eyes.

"Coffee's brewing. Bring yo asses on."

Bella turned toward the hallway with a hand on her hip and called back, "Watch your tone, punk! You're not off the hook either."

I laughed under my breath as I followed her out, heart still pounding, skin still buzzing, and soul still trying to figure out what the hell came next.

We padded out of the bedroom barefoot, me trailing behind Bella like a middle schooler on the way to the principal's office. She had on her Morgan State tee, black leggings, and fuzzy gray Crocs—looking equal parts comfort and confrontation. I followed in Maleek's t-shirt, my curls a tangled halo and my stomach a swirling knot.

We made our way to the living room, Bella plopping down into the armchair like she owned it. I curled up on the couch, tugging the t-shirt down my thighs and wishing I could disappear inside of it.

Maleek came in a moment later with two mugs of coffee, one dark as midnight, the other the exact creamy light brown I liked—more sugar and cream than actual caffeine, just the way I'd always taken it. He sat mine in front of me and placed the black one beside it. I didn't even have time to smile at the gesture before Bella's hand shot out.

She snatched the black mug and took a sip with the most obnoxious air of ownership I'd ever seen.

"That was mine," Maleek said flatly, hands on his hips.

"And now it's mine," she replied sweetly, before letting the smile drop.

"Don't forget I'm still annoyed with you. I don't care how adorable it is that you remember Angie likes her coffee to taste like melted ice cream."

I rolled my eyes and took a grateful sip from my mug while Maleek exhaled sharply and turned back toward the kitchen.

He came back a few moments later with his backup mug—this one a chipped Dragon Ball Z one I remembered from his teenage years—and sat beside me on the couch. Without asking, he kissed my temple, casual and soft. Like we did this all the time. Like we were already an us.

Then he laced his fingers through mine and gave a slow squeeze, his thumb brushing over my knuckles. I exhaled a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding.

I didn't even have to look at him to know what he was saying: I'm here. I'm not going anywhere.