Chapter Fifteen
Valentines Day
Zio
I reached for the other side of the bed before I even opened my eyes, expecting to find a warm body. Instead, I found cold linen.
I sat up fast, the quiet of the loft ringing in my ears. "Sky?" No answer. I called her name louder and got the same result.
I sat up, running a hand over my face and stood. Breathing.
I checked the bathroom—empty. I checked the kitchen—nothing but a half-empty glass of water. My chest tightened. I grabbed my phone and dialed her number. It went straight to voicemail. I called again. Same thing.
Immediately my brain went right to the worst-case scenario... “She ran.”
My jaw locked.
Of course she would pick Valentine’s Day to spiral.
I thought about the conversation about Valentine’s last night with Brent and Felicia, about the dinner reservation she didn’t even want. Maybe I’d applied too much pressure. Maybe the reality of "forever" had finally triggered her instinct to vanish.
Maybe she’s just gone to the store, I said to calm myself. I could really be overreacting.
I called her again.
I almost threw the phone when she didn’t answer.
I needed to calm down.
I was going to get dressed and give her a couple hours before I went looking for her ass.
That was the plan.
I hit the shower, cranking the water hotter than it needed to be. Steam filled the bathroom fast.
She really dipped on me.
I braced my hands against the tile and let the water hit the back of my neck.
“Relax,” I muttered to myself in the mirror once I stepped out. “Even if she don’t fuck with you no more, you’ll get over it.”
The words felt like bullshit. That shit would break my heart.
I got out when the water turn cold. I dragged the towel down my body, drying off, jaw tight. I slapped on some lotion and cologne, ran a comb through my beard. I could feel my muscles coiled.
Four years.
Four years of me showing up for her, and she couldn’t even make it one day?
That’s weak.
I got dressed slow on purpose. Black T-shirt. Simple black True Religion jeans. Black and white Taxi 12s.
I checked myself in the mirror.
Calm face.
Eyes not calm.
I grabbed my restaurant paperwork from the kitchen counter, flipping through it just to keep my hands busy. Numbers. Vendor invoices. My business plan.
Focus on work.
Not on her.
But every few seconds, my brain kept going back to her—
I called her again. Straight to voicemail.
I thought about calling her momma and telling on her.
I laughed at that.
Fuck it. I was about to ride to her house.
I grabbed my keys, jaw flexing.
The lock clicked, and the heavy door to the loft swung open.
I froze, keys mid-air. Sky walked in looking winded. She was juggling a white box tied with string and a heavy shopping bag, her eyes scanning the room until they landed on me.
She met me at the island. She didn’t seem to notice I was on edge.
"Where have you been?" I breathed, the relief hitting me so hard I had to lean against the island. "I’ve been calling you."
She set the bags down, avoiding my eyes for a second. "My phone died. I went to get your favorite from that bakery in Sarasota. I thought I would be doing good by being there when they opened, but they had a line around the block at 6:00 AM."
I looked at the box.
She reached into one of the bags she was carrying and pulled out a Coach Sprint backpack.
Then she slid a card across the marble toward me.
“Happy Valentine’s Day. I stayed up all night," she said, her voice small, a total departure from her usual self. "Just thinking. About how good you’ve been to me. How good I feel with you and how stubborn I’m being. "
She took a breath. "I knew I loved you a while ago, Zio. I just... I wasn't ready to say it. The words felt too heavy for what we were doing, but when I really looked at it, we’ve been in a relationship for a while."
I started toward her, but she held up a hand,. "Don't get all in your feelings. Don't make it weird." She sounded like Brent.
I didn't listen. I pulled her into me, burying my face in the crook of her neck.
Later…
The afternoon was a shift in dynamic. Usually, I’m the one in the kitchen, but Sky insisted on cooking lunch. I watched, skeptical, because she didn’t cook most times. We ordered a lot. She did a good job, though. Made a little TikTok Alfredo.
But the clock was ticking. "Time to get ready," I told her around five. "The dress is waiting."
When she stepped out of the bedroom an hour later, the world stopped. The dress fit her like it was woven onto her skin. I had spent months searching for the brown silk Reformation dress I ended up settling on.
She looked at me, then broke out in a smile and did a little silly jig.
“These shoes, baby. These shoes.”
I knew the René Caovilla Margot Crystal Butterflies Ankle-Wrap Sandals would be her favorite thing. She had a butterfly tatted on the small of her back. She liked me to lick it. She was very cooperate the rest of the night.
Dinner was a blur because I didn’t really care; it was just something to do while other preparations were made.
"I want to show you something," I said as we pulled back up to my building. "I want to see the view from the roof tonight."
"Zio, it's freezing out," she complained, but she followed me anyway, her hand tucked into mine.
We stepped out onto the rooftop, and Sky froze.
The entire space had been transformed. Strings of Edison bulbs crisscrossed the skyline, and a path of candles led toward the edge of the building. But it wasn't the decor that stopped her breath.
Standing there, dressed in their best, were Mrs. Rose and Mr. David. My parents were beside them, along with Brent and Felicia. Sky’s best friend Simone had flown in from Miami.
Sky turned to me, her eyes wide. "Zio? What is this?"
I didn't let go of her hand. I led her to the center of the roof, the Largo skyline behind us.
I dropped to one knee, pulling the box from my pocket. The diamond caught every bit of light on that roof.
"Sky, you’re difficult. You overthink. You run. You argue. You romanticize nonsense.”
A tear slipped down her cheek.
“But you’re mine. And I don’t want to do another year without you being my wife.”
Wind ran across the rooftop, sending her hair flying behind her like I paid it to perform.
Everyone was holding their breath. Because sky could say anything.
“Sky,” I said softer, “marry me.”
She was crying now. Actually crying.
She nodded first.
Then hysterically laughed through it.
“Yes.”
As I slid the ring onto her finger, Brent let out a roar of a whistle that echoed off the surrounding buildings, and Mr. David gave me a single, slow nod of approval. The women clapped.
I stood up and pulled my wife-to-be into my arms, finally knowing exactly where I stood. Brent had to fuck up the moment “I bought the ring” he informed everybody.