Chapter Two
February First — Zio
“Thank you,” she whispered.
Thank you?
I had said I love you, and she had said thank you. What the fuck was I supposed to do with thank you?
Before I could even process how much that stung, she was wiping tears from her face, backing away from me like I was infected. “I… I need a minute. I’m going to change.” She grabbed a bottle of Hennessy off the shelf and disappeared out of the kitchen.
I knew it wouldn’t be easy, but damn. She had hurt a nigga’s feelings with those two words. My dick deflated instantly. I’d been fighting all night not to notice her in that lace—now I was good. Feeling focused.
I turned back to the sink, gripping the edge until my knuckles ached. I took a breath. I needed to deal with those oxtails.
I thought about how we had met.
My sister had dragged me to her book signing. Said the author wrote women who “didn’t play about feelings.” I hadn’t cared. I only went because I hadn’t spent real time with my little sister in months.
Sky had been sitting behind a folding table when we walked in—pretty as fuck, thick as fuck in the places I liked. She had her own hair and pretty, clean brown skin. My sister asked for a picture. Sky smiled and posed. I asked for her number.
She had smiled bigger and given it to me.
I hadn’t been looking for a relationship. I just wanted to get lost in her for a few hours. I wanted to fuck. Plain and simple. And I did.
Then the hooks had set in.
Somewhere in the middle of those four years, the sun started catching us still entangled.
At first, she had hated it—joked about me overstaying my welcome, pretended she needed her space.
Then one night, she hadn’t kicked me out and hadn’t run her mouth about it.
Another night, she had handed me a toothbrush.
That was the shift. I realized then she wasn't just a fuck buddy; she was my woman. A woman with a soft heart she’d spent a lifetime trying to encase in stone for no reason.
Too sweet for how hard she pretended to be.
That was why I didn't let the "thank you" break me.
I knew she loved me. I heard it in the way her voice caught when I was deep in her. She could play tough all she wanted.
I finished cooking. I plated the food slow and careful—creamy grits, oxtails falling off the bone, gravy dark and rich.
I could cook. I was ready to open my own spot; I had a loan, and my boy Brent had given me what I couldn’t borrow.
I wanted to talk to Sky about it, but first I needed to get us to February fourteenth without her disappearing on me.
I carried the plates into the living room.
She was curled up on the sofa, knees to her chest. The Hennessy bottle was already a third gone. Olivia Dean played softly in the background. I hated her songs then—Sky played them to death. I didn’t want to fuck to that woman’s voice.
I set her plate down. She looked up at me. I didn’t sit. I stood there, my own plate in my hand.
“I told my momma about you,” I said.
Her eyes went wide. The bottle almost slipped from her fingers. In a Black family like mine, telling your mother about a woman was damn near an engagement.
“Zio… why would you do that?” she choked.
“I’m over thirty years old, Sky,” I said, calm but firm. “And I’m too grown to be playing house in the dark. I know you’re scared. But I don’t want to play games with my heart or my time. Or yours.”
She opened her mouth, ready to fight, but I cut her off.
“Eat your food,” I said. “And just listen.”
She hesitated, then picked up the fork.
“I got a big family,” I continued. “I got friends. I want them to meet you. I want to spend Valentine’s Day with you—have dinner, exchange gifts.
I want to spend the fourteen days leading up to Valentine's with you like a couple.
I want to send you a corny 'be my Valentine' text the day before... to wake up with you on February 15th, smelling like your pussy, and the 16th.”
"I don't know if I can do that," she finally said.
I nodded, just to appease her. “I feel you, but this is an ultimatum. Tomorrow, my friends are having dinner. Xavier—he owns some properties with his wife, Ivy. They have a beachside house in Clearwater. I want you to go with me.”
“And if I don’t?”
“We’ll reassess what we have.” It was hard, but I had to put my foot down.
“What does reassess mean, Zio?”
“It means I might have to find somebody else to—” I stopped myself. Not because I didn’t mean it. I wanted her to feel the words. “—to give my heart to,” I finished. “Because I can’t keep pretending what we have doesn’t matter.”
The room went still. Olivia Dean sounded louder.
“Alexa, stop music.”
Sky looked furious. Terrified. And soft in a way she hated.
“You’re serious about this?” she asked.
“I wouldn’t have put my momma in it if I wasn’t.”
She laughed, then pressed her palm to her forehead. “Why are you changing the rules suddenly?”
“I’m not changing them,” I said. “I outgrew them.”
She looked down at her plate like it might explode.
“I want to give you time to think, Sky. I love you. Call me tomorrow morning and let me know.”
“You're not staying?” she pouted.
It killed me to say no. I shook my head.
If I had stayed, we would have fucked and she would have had the upper hand.
She wasn't going to be getting any dick from me—not until she made up her mind.
I needed her to feel how cold her bed would be without me.
I set my plate on the table, picked up my keys, and left her sitting there pouting.
In the parking lot, I stood at my car for a second, looking at her window, wondering if she was still pouting or if she was finally crying. Either way, the ball was in her court. I loved her, but I loved myself enough to not keep playing with my own feelings.