Chapter six
Still February Second
Sky
The air in the beach house didn’t just smell like sea salt; it was a heavy blend of expensive Jo Malone candles and the scent of people who didn’t have to check their bank balances.
I was clutching Zio’s arm like it was a life raft, my shoes clicking a rhythm on the marble floor that sounded entirely too loud, even over Drake rapping through the surround sound.
I was freaking out on the inside, but I kept my face composed—the quick shot of brown liquor I grabbed at the corner store on the way there had finally calmed my nerves a little.
Dealing with February was turning me into a lush.
“Breathe, Sky,” Zio whispered, his hand sliding down to squeeze mine.
We were in a sea of beautiful Black people, so my eyes naturally got stuck on the large white man standing near the terrace.
“That’s Ivy’s husband,” Zio whispered. “She was married to Xavier’s best friend—Demetrius. They were together forever. Until he wanted an open relationship.”
I raised my brows, the gossip cutting through my buzz. “And she said no?”
“She didn’t say no. She said fuck you and goodbye.”
My eyes flicked back to them. Xavier was huge—a mountain of a man with tanned skin, dressed in khakis and a white polo.
I couldn’t believe this was the guy everyone said went to an HBCU.
People talked about him like he was a cool-ass Black man, and seeing him there, I got it.
The vibe was effortless. Some people could just fit in anywhere.
Zio kept talking. “Xavier didn’t wait a second.
He’d liked her since they were in school, and he went after her with no shame, so it was a whole scandal in our friend group for a while.
But nobody talks about it anymore. They have two kids.
Demetrius still comes around sometimes, says he’s still friends with them. ”
I grimaced, thinking of my own heart. “Couldn’t be me.”
Zio hummed, his eyes scanning the room. “Come on. Let me introduce you.”
We wove through the crowd. Ivy was dressed more casually than I expected, in a black wrap dress and Valentino slides, but she looked every bit the queen of the manor.
“There he is,” she said, pulling Zio into a quick hug before turning to me. “And you must be Sky.”
“Yes,” I said, suddenly aware of my posture. I straightened up, letting go of Zio’s arm so I didn’t look like a koala. “You must be Ivy.”
She looked me over, her eyes lingering for a second. Then she grinned. “You’re really pretty.”
I blinked, caught off guard by the genuine compliment. “Thank you. You too.”
I had to crane my neck to look up at her husband. “Good to finally meet you,” Xavier said. “We’ve heard a lot.”
“Only good things,” Ivy added with a wink.
Zio’s hand found the small of my back, his thumb tracing a slow circle. “I told them the bad things too,” he joked.
I faked a laugh, cutting my eyes at him. I could only imagine he’d told them about my fear of commitment and made himself out to be the victim. We talked for a minute before a group of newcomers called them away.
“We’re gonna let y’all mingle. Catch up in a minute,” Ivy said.
They drifted off, and suddenly Zio became the sun that everyone else was orbiting.
“Hey, Zio!”
Too many women started talking to him. Beautiful women with perfectly laid edges and luxury purses.
They were touching his arm, laughing at jokes that weren’t that damn funny, and looking at him in a way that made me want to beat their asses.
I knew the math—Zio had been a full-time chef for years, and every spare hour he had, he spent in my bed.
He didn’t have time for other women. But watching this, I couldn’t help but wonder… was this who he had been before me?
One girl—a petite, light-skinned chick in a dress that stopped barely below her ass cheeks—strutted up. She placed a manicured hand on Zio’s chest, leaning in to whisper something close to his ear.
The liquor in my system decided right then and there that this bitch was playing in my face.
I stepped forward, sliding my hand directly over hers on Zio’s chest and peeling it off like a piece of trash. “I want to hear the secret too.”
The girl blinked, then smirked up at Zio, who hadn’t said a word. “Oh, you don’t want to share it?”
I cut my eyes to him, my voice dropping an octave. “What did she say, Zio?” I gave him my you-better-tell-me-the-truth look.
“She asked me why I haven’t been calling her.”
I looked back at the girl, waving her off like a fly. “Girl, move along. Who is out here begging a nigga for a phone call in 2026? It’s embarrassing.”
I glared up at Zio, completely forgetting we were in a room full of people. He raised his hands in mock defense. “What? You didn’t even give me a chance to respond. I was going to tell her to move around. I ain’t even talked to her in four years.”
She was still standing there, looking expectant, so I gave her the final word. “Bitch, bye.”
From behind me, I heard somebody burst out laughing. “I like her, Zio!” Ivy called out, raising her glass in my direction.
Zio didn’t look embarrassed; he looked like he had just won the lottery.
The negro would enjoy women arguing over him.
The girl stayed right where she was, like I wasn't crazy. He pulled me away from her, under his arm, guiding me toward a quieter corner. He started to explain that he had a history with that girl—nothing serious, just the past. We weren’t in the corner for more than five minutes before some BS popped off.
Two girls came tumbling out of the bathroom, I assumed—tussling like they were in a parking lot. I’m talking snatching weaves, broken nails, and muffled screams. That was not what I expected at this type of party.
Then a dude who looked like Trevante Rhodes strolled out of the same room, calmly zipping up his jeans. His brown-and-black button-up was gapped open, revealing a chest that had seen the inside of a gym. He didn’t look stressed like he got caught cheating; he was laughing at them.
Instead of stopping the fight, he looked over at Ivy and Xavier, who were rushing over. He apologized to Ivy, but he was still chuckling, clearly high off something. He looked back at the girls on the floor and shouted, “Whoever wins gets to be my Valentine!”
Xavier broke up the fight. He looked pissed. The guy started heading in our direction, and Zio just shook his head, his face tight.
“You must be Sky,” the guy said, his eyes roaming over me. He was checking me out—not in a disrespectful-to-Zio way, but more of a let-me-see-what-Zio-sees-in-this-chick type of way.
Zio had a full grimace on his face, the muscles in his jaw working. “Sky, this is my best friend, Brent.”
I just stood there, shaking my head.
“So,” I whispered, leaning into Zio’s side, “you weren’t as perfect as you seemed. You have a messy friends.”