Page 58 of The Wright Man

I nodded, heart catching for a second. Didn't say a word. We raised our glasses.

"To the best man I know," I said.

"To my son," Cap answered, eyes steady. "Home at last."

I blinked fast, swallowed the burn, let it settle deep in my chest.

The whiskey was smooth, smoky, familiar in a brand-new way. Cap grunted his approval, then poured another.

"So," he said, already knowing. "You talk to her?"

I nodded. The memory of our conversation upstairs still clung to me like her perfume. Her voice, low and measured. Her eyes, softer than I remembered. The fire in her wasn't out, but it didn't blaze like it used to. It flickered. Tired. Dimmed.

"She's not the same, Cap."

He sat back, nodding slowly. "Neither are you, son."

He slid the second glass toward me. "Question is... what are you gonna do about it?"

I thought of everything she'd been to me since the first time she smiled at me over peeling paint on a green porch. Of how she'd held me together after Mama. After Kareem.

How she always pieced me back together without ever making me feel broken.

And now she was the broken one... So it was my turn.

I picked up the glass and took the second shot.

This time, I smiled through the burn.

"I'mma get my best friend back."

Chapter Nine

Angelica

I pulled into the driveway on a smile so wide it was starting to ache.

Our townhouse sat quiet in the glow of the porch light—same manicured hedges, same chipped flowerpot I kept forgetting to replace. But tonight, it all looked softer. Lighter. Like the air had been blessed with some kind of private peace I hadn't felt in... years, honestly.

I didn't even rush to cut the engine. Just sat there, bathed in the dim dashboard glow, holding on to the calm curling in my chest like warm steam in a mug. The kind of quiet that settles deep in your bones. The kind you don't dare disturb too fast.

The party had been damn near perfect. Laughter. Hugs. A whole house full of people I loved who actually loved me back. And Maleek...

Being near him felt like easing into a hot bath after a long day—comforting, healing, familiar. The steady rhythm of his voice, the protective way he watched the room. It soothed something in me.

That man had the nerve to show up looking like a fever dream—beard trimmed, lineup crisp, cologne hugging him like a second skin. And that voice? Still deep enough to stir something in my solar plexus. Still calm enough to center me. Still Maleek.

Seeing him again had filled me up in places I hadn't even realized were hollow... I tried not to think about all the other things he could fill.

"You. Are. Married," I muttered, catching my reflection in the rearview mirror. "And Maleek is just a friend."

Just a friend. Right.

I laughed under my breath and let my head fall back against the seat, the corners of my mouth still curled. My thoughts drifted to the kitchen earlier. My sisters, my chaos twins, had smelled the vibe on me like blood in the water.

* * *

"Okay, you said 'later.' It's later. Spill. The. Tea." Tina had said, eyes gleaming like she'd been waiting all night to pounce.