Page 192 of The Wright Man

"Please don't take this personal…" she belted, the kind of dramatic, eyes-closed delivery that only came from a half-bottle of wine and a full-body vendetta.

"But you ain't shit, and you weren't special 'til I made you so…"

I choked back a laugh. "She been like this all night?"

Bella didn't look up. "Since Tina signed off. She made a Spotify playlist called 'He Fumbled A Goddess' and she's been on shuffle and spirals ever since."

"Where's Tina?"

"Back to work. Some brand launch Zoom call thing. And I gotta head back to Baltimore. I have class in the morning." She took a slow sip. "So that leaves you."

I stepped further inside, my boots crunching faintly over what I realized was not only glitter but an entire layer of metallic penis confetti. Little sparkly dicks winking up at me from the carpet.

A pink plastic straw—also shaped like a dick—was abandoned on the end table. Another was tucked into the half-empty wine glass on the TV tray. There was one stuck in a half-melted ice cube on the floor.

And then Angelica turned the corner.

I damn near dropped the food bag laughing.

She had on another one of my shirts and a pair of my pajama shorts, a glittery "Ex-Wife To Be" sash slung diagonally across her chest, and that cheap-ass tiara teetering on top of her head like royalty gone rogue. Her eyes lit up when she saw me, and she didn't miss a beat in her solo.

"I been through worse than youuuu…"

She spun in slow motion, caught the edge of the couch, and steadied herself with dramatic flair. "MA-LEEEK!"

"Hey, baby," I said, trying not to laugh as I walked over.

She grabbed me by the hoodie with the enthusiasm of a woman reuniting with her man after deployment. "You came back!"

"I live here."

"That don't mean shit," she slurred, clutching me like a lifeline. "I missed you. Bella left me alone with my feelings."

Bella rolled her eyes. "She is not alone. She has that entire playlist, two wine bottles, and like forty dick straws for moral support."

"Tell Tina," Angelica said, serious as hell, pointing her wine glass toward no one in particular, "we don't need no more penis straws. We got enough big dick energy in this house already."

I coughed into my fist, laughing. "Jesus."

Bella stood up, brushing confetti off her leggings like she was clocking out of a shift at a strip club. "On that note? My job here is done."

Angelica turned and kissed her loudly on the cheek. "Thanks for coming. I love you forever."

"I know," Bella said with a dry smile. "Try not to traumatize me next time."

She gave me a hug on the way out. "Good luck," she whispered with a wink. "You're gonna need it."

Then she was gone, the door clicking shut behind her and leaving me in a minefield of glitter, broken wine corks, and the woman I had loved since I had baby teeth—drunk, giggly, and clinging to me like she'd never let go.

She was glitter-covered chaos and half-sung heartbreak, clinging to me like I was all she had left. And the truth was? I wanted to be. So yeah—she could hold on as long as she needed. I wasn't letting go either.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Maleek

As soon as the front door shut behind Bella, Angelica melted against me like warm honey.

Her arms wound back around my neck, her cheek smooshed against my chest, and she exhaled a long, dramatic sigh that smelled like pinot grigio and peppermint lip balm. "She's gone," she whispered, like we were co-conspirators instead of two idiots in love surrounded by glitter dicks.