Saint

Victoria

He did make a mess.

My well-curated outfit was inexplicably destroyed by the man who maintained an insatiable appetite for me. The sentiment was shared. I couldn’t resist his advances. It was proven as my wholesome pleated skirt was gathered into a fist, my panties dragged aside, and my center split in two by the weapon he maintained between his legs.

I ended up changing into a simple white satin blouse. I unbuttoned the top few buttons of the shirt and covered my exposed chest with a host of pearls of varying sizes. I paired it with pleated rust-colored bell-bottom slacks. The color was fitting for the oncoming fall season. A bedazzled banana-shaped clutch completed the look for a pop of color, along with my banana-colored heels. It was subtle –for me– and still a nod to my fashionista style.

“Babe, can you strap my heels?”

Saint arched a brow, giving me that look that had us in our current predicament as he drew closer. In a matter of seconds, we could be tearing our clothing off one another and sexing like bunnies in heat.

“No funny stuff,” I warned.

“What? I’m not doing anything,” he smirked as he kneeled to strap my shoes on my feet.

Not doing anything consisted of him stealing a few feels as he knelt to assist me. He traced circles on my ankles as he lauded me with compliments about how beautiful my feet were. Several kisses were planted, sending tingles racing up my spine. Only then did he move on to the heels. Once the task was complete, I snapped a photo of us in the mirror. We looked flawless. Saint wore a rust skinny tie against his all-black outfit. The small addition of color to his wardrobe was the perfect complement to what I wore.

Though satisfied with our appearance, we were almost an hour late to dinner. The lone fact had me cringing as the vehicle crept closer to his family’s home.

Commandeering the radio, I connected my Bluetooth to Saint’s speakers. He’d warned me of touching his radio months back, and I had yet to learn my lesson. As long as the tunes weren’t overly loud, he didn’t mind my invasion. Jhene Aiko came over the speakers, gently crooning of a void of fear when it came to falling, and I silently agreed.

Had I fallen for Saint? The internal question had yet to be answered. It didn’t feel quite like love. Not yet. This was the lead-up to it. Free of restraints, I permitted my heart to do as it pleased. Jhene transformed into H.E.R. The lyrics communicated my heart’s sentiments.

I want to love you in every kind of way

I want to please you, no matter how long it takes

If the world should end tomorrow and we only have today

I’m gonna love you in every kind of way

Closing my eyes, I rotated my head to the lyrics, allowing them to be embedded into my being.

“You want to know a secret?” Saint drifted, puncturing my thoughts. As he maneuvered the car, his free hand located mine and interlocked our fingers together. The feel of his skin against mine had become a natural occurrence. Frequently, we communicated through touch.

“What?” I asked, smiling at the invasion of his hands against me.

“I was probably more nervous than you.”

My brow crumpled with his admission. “Why would you be? These are your people.”

“People I seldom spend time with,” quickly he refuted. “My comfort is with you, Tori. With you stationed by my side, I instinctively relax. Let me be that for you, too. Relax.”

Registering my tension, he commanded it to flee. I let his words sink in, preparing myself for whatever the night had ahead of me. I wasn’t sure what to expect. Saint had informed me that his parents were kind and generous, but I still rested my butt two inches from the edge of the seat as we drew closer to their home. Being beside him did alleviate some of my concerns. They hadn’t been vanquished, however. It wasn’t Saint’s fault. I hadn’t met a man’s family for such a stretch that I’d almost forgotten I was a grown-ass woman. No one would be making me uncomfortable in my own skin. It had become my mantra well before we crossed paths.

The Miller estate looked like an image torn from the pages of Better Homes and Gardens. The home was gated for privacy, with hedges lining the perimeter. We entered through black, Venice-style steel gates to reveal a marvel of a home. Fashioned in French colonial architecture, the whitewashed brick home was a sight to behold. Pink magnolia trees adorned the front landscape, and from behind the home, there was a distinct view of Paramour Canyon. From where we stood, the canyon was near walking distance, and behind that view was a view of the city.

Saint pulled up to the front of the house, easily sliding behind several cars already lodged in the wrap-around driveway. Astray in the view, I didn’t notice him open my door until he cleared his throat.

“Ahem, Beauty.”

As he intercepted my hand, I exited the car, taking note of little details like the grand design of the driveway. Black and white geometric patterns lined the brick flooring, leaving me to wonder what the inside of the home looked like. As we neared the front door, my heart leapt into my throat. Swallowing my nerves, my elaborate nails dug into Saint’s arm.

“Aight, Tori. You’re going to have us both out here banging our heads and curling toes,” he warned in a whisper.

“Did you just make a joke, Saint Miller?” I teased, feeling myself lighten. Just a bit.

Collecting my chin and tilting upward, he kissed my lips. “I did, Beauty. Now come on.”

I knew it was a jest made to help me relax, and it did, but my weighty sigh only came with perspiring underarms and clammy hands. Still, we continued our approach to the front door. Before Saint could reach for the door proper, it swung open with haste.

“Bout time you made it, damn! I’m hungry.”

The emphatic remark came from a young woman who shared Saint’s complexion. Her lashes were at least half an inch long, and her makeup was impeccable. Her youthfulness was apparent in comparison to Saint. This must have been…

“Serenity,” Saint nodded at her. “This is Victoria, my wife.”

Serenity gave her brother a one-armed hug. Had I not known of his need for distance, I would have thought it strange. He told me he was close with his siblings but apparently not as close as he and I were. Not as close as I thought.

“You’re pretty as fuck,” Serenity grinned in my direction, stepping aside to allow us entry.

“Thank you,” I giggled, admiring Serenity’s brazenness. She reminded me of my friend, Dream.

“No problem. Pretty bitches complement other pretty bitches.”

I didn’t expect her to loop her arm around my free one and walk with us inside. “You’re the first woman any of my brothers has brought home. Just an FYI. My mom is probably going to grill you,” she announced.

The smell of her body mist hit me first. Something peachy and tropical, it was nice, much like her nugget of information. Significant as I thought her scent was, it was immediately muted by the smell of food as we entered deeper into the foyer. My senses identified collard greens and macaroni with a quickness. Immediately, my stomach churned for rations which my nose located to the far left.

The kitchen.

From that space came a woman who looked like Serenity, though slightly older. Assuming her to be the mother of the magnificent beings I’d held the pleasure of meeting, I admired her beauty. Mrs. Miller had a healthy serving of everything, from her full lips to her plump cheeks and down to her curvy hips. I was certain her husband was never left wanting.

“Saint!”

Her greeting was low as she approached. She planted a kiss on his cheeks, which he returned. Once the two exchanged greetings, her gaze fell on me.

“This is Victoria, mama. My wife.”

“Hello,” she purred, outstretching a hand to greet me.

The announcement of my presence caused a shift in her demeanor. Quickly, I sensed the change in her energy as well. She was studying me. Who was the woman who’d managed to settle down with her son, void of an invitation to any ceremony –small or otherwise? It was what I would think if I were in her position. I didn’t fault her suspicion.

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Miller,” I spoke, returning the simple hand gesture.

Mrs. Miller’s eyes raked me from head to toe.

“I suppose I should be returning that sentiment, Mrs. Miller,” she tossed.

My supposition proved accurate. Mrs. Miller harbored feelings about my union with her son. She smirked as she dropped my hand and eased away from us both.

“You all can make your way to the dining area. Dinner will be served promptly. We’ve been waiting long enough,” she tossed the jab as she sashayed away.

“Listen to me, Beauty.” Immediately, Saint steered us away to a corner out of earshot of anyone who may have been around. “Nobody knows about us except my dad and Supreme.”

“You mean our agreement?”

“No. Not that. Everyone except my mother knows of our hasty marriage and the reasoning behind it,” he recalled of our first meeting in Indonesia. It had only been four months, though it felt like a lifetime ago. “That’s all they know, okay?”

Relief blanketed me, if only for a fleeting second. I didn’t know the extent of what Saint’s family knew of me. It was the reason for the irrational activity in my chest and my splintered nerves. Pillaging the air for energy to steady myself, I sighed.

“Tori, are you okay?” Saint probed, studying me.

“Your mother doesn’t like me,” I hissed lowly.

“How can you know that already?”

“Saint, she–”

“Fuck these people, Tori,” Saint blurted, causing me to blink in astonishment. “It doesn’t matter what they think of you. You married me, not them. You’re my wife. Just ride through–”

“Good! You’re here!”

My thoughts were shelved for a later time as the familiar face approached. “We can eat now,” Supreme boomed from behind me, where a hallway was. Trailing behind him were two other men. One of them looked to be the oldest of the trio.

“Victoria, you look stunning. The Miller name looks good on you,” Supreme grinned after freeing me from a hug. “This guy been treating you right?”

“He has. Saint is everything and more,” I smiled, happy to see a face I recognized.

“That’s good to know. I won’t bother asking how she’s treating you, Saint. It’s obvious my brother is in pure bliss.”

The admission caused me to beam at Saint, who just shrugged. “He’s not lying,” Saint confessed, steering us to the final two men as they approached. “Victoria, this is my dad, Ramsay Miller, and this is Sincere, my youngest brother.”

“What’s good, sis?” The man named Sincere pulled me into a brief but firm hug before making his way to the dining room. Behind him was yet another handsome but older face in the form of Ramsay Miller.

“It’s nice to meet you, young lady,” he grabbed my hand and covered it with his free one. “I’ve been trying to get you over here sooner. You all missed the summer cookout. My wife has been driving me nuts about setting this dinner up. You’ve met Sarah?”

“I have,” I recalled the uncomfortable greeting from Saint’s mother. My grimace attempted to pass for a smile and failed.

“Good, good,” Mr. Miller chuckled. “She’s a softy. Don’t let her get under your skin. Let’s eat.”

True to form, dinner was composed of the typical southern fixings of collards, macaroni, fried chicken, and yams. As I opted out of the chicken, it prompted my first line of questioning at the table.

“So, Victoria, do you have something against chicken?”

The sweet voice of Mrs. Miller floated from across the table. She cut into her chicken and shoved a small piece into her mouth as she awaited an answer.

“Ma–” Saint began to speak in my defense, but I squeezed his thigh, begging for silence.

“No, ma’am. I love chicken. I just choose not to eat it.” Effortlessly, I spoke up for myself.

“Something wrong with my chicken?” She tossed back again with that sweet southern accent.

“No, ma’am, I just don’t eat meat,” I responded, spooning a mixture of yams with macaroni into my mouth. The combination was divine – so much so that I sent a prayer to the man upstairs, hoping the woman across from me would permit me to enjoy it in peace.

“I’m curious, Victoria… How did you and my Saint meet?”

God, why hath thee forsaken me!

“Ma,” Saint started.

“We met on Komodo Island in Indonesia,” I floated, undeterred. “Saint was so enamored when he set eyes on me that he couldn’t leave without me.”

It was semi-true.

“Tori was holding a tortoise in her hands when I stumbled across her. I couldn’t tell what was more striking – the tortoise, her, or the both of them combined,” Saint added with the assist.

“Well, you always were a stickler for strange creatures,” Mrs. Miller nodded to her son.

The comment prompted me to discipline my features. The rise she sought to gain from me wouldn’t be awarded.

“By the way, Victoria, you don’t have to call me ma’am. After all, we’re family now. You can call me Mama.”

I knew I was the first woman to cross her threshold, thanks to Serenity’s heads up. I knew she likely felt protective over her son – the sentiment was shared. But Mrs. Miller had been sordidly mistaken. Not the one nor two, the time came for a line to be drawn in the sand. I sat my fork down, taking a breath to compose myself before I spoke again.

“Is there another name you’d like for me to call you?” Adjusting my gaze, I shot a look in her direction.

“Is there a problem with Mama?”

“With all due respect, Mrs. Miller, I only have one mother. I understand you’re my mother-in-law, but you haven’t yet been endearing or motherly toward me for me to feel comfortable with giving you that title as it concerns me.”

Already, I knew Mrs. Miller was attempting to lay into me. Confident and firmly, I stood my ground. I wasn’t trying to be rude, but I wasn’t built to sit idly and take shit from anyone, regardless of their age or status. Respect was earned.

“Mrs. Miller will do just fine.” She plastered on a fake smile and returned to her plate.

“Well!” Serenity half shouted across the table. “I’ve been following your work for a while, Victoria. I don’t necessarily do the whole covered thing, but I have a few pieces from your last collection. I love pairing them with showier pieces.”

“Really?” I nodded in Serenity’s direction. She and I would be fast friends. Already, I’d made the determination. She and I had sisterhood chemistry. It would be foolish not to embrace her.

“I’ll have to get you down to the next show if that’s something that may be of interest to you.”

“Swear! Oh my gosh, yes! Just send me the details,” Serenity gasped.

“So, Victoria, you’re a fashion designer, huh?”

That question came from Sincere. For most of the evening, he’d been quiet. Of the four siblings, he resembled Saint the most. The pair shared their father’s looks. Supreme and Serenity shared their mother’s.

“I am,” I confirmed.

“How does that mesh with the boring shit Saint does?” He asked, pointing a fork housing chicken in Saint’s direction.

“Language, Sincere,” Mr. Miller frowned, causing Sincere to hold his palms up in surrender.

“My bad, Pops.”

“I find Saint’s job extremely interesting and inspirational,” I clipped, rolling my eyes. The evidence of my annoyance didn’t go unnoticed.

“My bad, boss lady. I meant no offense,” Sincere tittered. “Saint doesn’t really get into the logistics of his job. Hell, all I knew was that he worked in a lab.”

It soon dawned on me that Saint wasn’t as close to his family as he liked to project. Or maybe he wasn’t projecting at all. Maybe this was as close as he cared to be. In comparison to the rest of the world, maybe this was close for him. From under the table, I planted my hand on his lap. The display of reassurance and comfort caused him to face me. When our eyes connected, I squeezed against his toned thigh.

“Maybe you should take more time to get to know your brother,” I chastised, waiting for who else was next in my line of fire.

“Saint… have you taken some time to consider what type of business you’ll be venturing into?” The question came from the king of the castle, Mr. Miller.

“Business? What business, Saint?” I asked. The question was directed more toward him than to the table, forgetting our present location.

Saint’s sigh pierced the air. “I’ll let you know, Pops.”

I absolutely loved discussing business plans. A guilty pleasure, it enthralled me. I couldn’t help myself at the mention of Saint getting into a venture of sorts. Demure was my baby, but prior to its conception, I had several other businesses that I loved equally. Dipping my tone for privacy, I asked, “What is your dad referring to, Saint? You never told me–”

“We’ll talk at home, Beauty.”

Dinner was uneventful for the remainder of the night. We finished with apple pie and rolled ice cream, courtesy of the kitchen’s chef. Mrs. Miller cringed when her husband introduced their staff member as such. To her, Chef Will was merely her kitchen assistant. It was Mrs. Miller’s recipes that graced our tongues for the evening. She adamantly made the distinction

After dinner, the woman of the house made her way to my side. Her demeanor bore evidence of contrition, but my better judgment told me she was the type to forgo an apology in favor of offering a plate of food.

“Let me holler at you on the patio, Victoria,” she requested of my presence.

Jesus, be a fence, abeg. Again, I sent a prayer to the heavens, beseeching peace that surpassed understanding. My tongue was only getting warmed up, and the night was coming to a close. I didn’t want to have to read Mrs. Miller her rights, but I would if she pushed me far enough.

I followed her out to the backyard patio, which was equally as stunning as the interior. The same elaborate flooring lining the driveway in the front of the home was in the backyard as well. A seating area was situated in the middle of the yard with a fire pit in its center.

“You have a lovely home, Mrs. Miller.”

“Oh, cut the shit, girl,” she tossed, spinning to face me with curious eyes.

“Ain’t no shit. If your house looked a mess, you wouldn’t receive any compliments from me.” Swift with my tongue, I dismissed her concern.

“I like you,” she grinned, causing my brows to hike upward.

Considering her current treatment, it mattered less whether or not she liked me. Despite the rocky beginning to our evening, her admission still managed to trigger my shock. She sat on one of the couches, prompting me to follow suit across from her. A bottle of wine was on ice with two glasses not far away. I hadn’t witnessed anyone arrange the setup, but it was apparent there were staff on the grounds lurking in the shadows. The residence was far too large and too well-kept for her and her husband to manage it alone. Mrs. Miller uncorked the bottle and began filling both empty glasses. Once satisfied with the amount each housed, she pushed a glass in my direction.

“Saint…” She started after sipping from her glass. “He isn’t like the rest of my kids. I’m sure you’ve noticed. He isn’t like anyone I’ve ever had the pleasure of crossing paths with.”

“No. He’s not,” I agreed, taking a sip and staring off into the distance as I waited for her to make her point known.

“So you can imagine, as a mother, when I heard that he got married, I was shocked, hurt, confused, and curious…” Freely, she called the list of overwhelming emotions she’d harbored about me and Saint’s nuptials. The presence of alcohol wasn’t required to loosen her lips. She was jumping right into it.

“I’m the closest person to my son in this family, Victoria. I know he has conversational barriers, but I expected that he’d at least share this new life he’s taken on with you.”

“Mrs. Miller–”

“I look at him, and I look at you, and it’s difficult for me to accept that he’s no longer under my wing, but as the night continued, I understood why I didn’t know about you. My son loves you and your dirty draws. I’ve never seen anything like it. He’s never brought a girl home, much less a woman.

“And you...” she continued, causing me to brace myself for whatever her next words would be. “I’ve never witnessed anyone stand up for my son like you have all evening. My family… They don’t understand him. We all love him equally in our own way, but he’s different. He’s always had his unique way of carrying on.”

“He’s autistic,” I corrected.

“Autistic?”

Shock and confusion held Mrs. Miller’s features hostage. The lack of understanding was potent on her face. I couldn’t believe she’d given birth to such an astute specimen and wasn’t aware that he was autistic.

“He has Asperger’s,” I explained, giving her a brief, run-of-the-mill explanation of Saint’s uniqueness. If she desired to learn more, Google was free, and so was a conversation with her son. “Have you never received this information from a doctor when he was growing up?” I pried, seeking to satisfy my own curiosity.

“No,” she shook her head with glazed rounds, meeting me. “I just loved him the way a mother should. I never sought out any diagnosis for him. Back then, things were different. Autism wasn’t so wildly called, and doctors weren’t so quick to issue diagnoses like candy. Putting a name on it didn’t matter to me, and I thought it shouldn’t matter to the rest of the world.”

She stared off for several seconds. “But it did.” She returned from that world, blinking to ensure her continued presence in the current one. “And sometimes I feel like he resents me for it. Like I never tried to fix him, so he keeps his distance.”

“Mrs. Miller…” I rose to my feet, glass in tow, and planted myself beside her. “I don’t think that’s it.”

“He didn’t start speaking until he was five,” she sniffed, recollecting the memory. “I thought he was mute. Hell, he would ignore me and his father unless he was seeking physical comfort, but the doctors told me he was fine. I would watch him as he played as a child, and he wouldn’t even play with toys the same way Supreme or Sincere did. He would sort them out by color, size, or shape, all in a line. It was evident that he knew what he was doing. From a young age, he’d been particular about the way things ought to be. He’d catch a violent tantrum, too, if you moved his toys.

“There were a few times I had to stop Ramsay from taking a belt to his behind.”

My eyes bloomed at that confession. At the look on my face, Mrs. Miller attempted to explain.

“You have to understand, back in those days, that was the way parents handled their kids. Ramsay was doing what he knew was best. It took him longer than I did to adjust to Saint’s eccentricities, but eventually, he did.” Recalling the past, she shook her head.

“It took me some time, but then I realized that not only was he different, he was super intelligent. Smarter than the rest of those rascals I gave birth to,” she laughed. “He loved dinosaurs, machines, and the aquarium... My God, we must have had three or four fish tanks.” She shook her head reflectively.

“He loved to learn how things worked. It was a pleasant challenge for him to figure the small things out…” She reminisced of a younger Saint, and I smiled thinking of my man.

“I remember the day he fell in love with the ocean,” she mused.

“Tell me more about that,” I urged, crossing my legs. Saint told me about how much he loved the ocean and why, but hearing it from his mother would be a treat. With my elbow planted on my thigh, I propped my head up with my hand.

“We went on vacation one summer to Hawaii. Saint hated planes. He’d flap and spaz out the minute he had to be subjected to the noises. The poor thing couldn’t get settled. He rubbed up against me and curled his toes until he passed out.

“Anyway, when we landed and made it to our beach rental, it was like a whole new world had opened for him. Saint’s eyes lit up like Christmas on that beach. We never taught him how to swim, but the boy had an affinity for water. He just ran out to the ocean and jumped right in.”

Sipping my wine, I imagined a young Saint rushing toward the water. Much hadn’t changed about him. My time spent living with him on the beach revealed as much. The beach recollection was likely as significant to Mrs. Miller as it was to him. Her eyes grew in size, recalling the memory.

“My God, you should have seen him. Ramsay and Supreme were on his tail, shouting at him to come back. Saint wasn’t hearing any of that foolishness. He disappeared under the water for a few minutes and resurfaced like it was nothing. It was the first time I’d ever seen him appear like a typical child. I think that day brought me as much joy as it brought him.”

A smile stole my features as I listened to Mrs. Miller share Saint’s love for the beach. It was refreshing getting to learn about him from someone who’d known him for much longer than I had.

“I could have taken him to a specialist to put a name on what he experienced, but I didn’t want to add labels to my child. And then there was this inherent fear that Ramsay and I had failed him. I couldn’t bear to labor with yet another cross. And maybe I was selfish. I have my own worries about what I could have done better, but Saint seems to have turned out fine. There isn’t anything wrong with my son. He’s just… different.”

The insight she’d awarded me was like the removal of a blindfold. There was so much I’d been trying to piece together on my own about Saint despite his diagnosis. Deeper, I plunged down the Saint rabbit hole.

“You didn’t fail him, but maybe you deprived him of getting the help he needed,” I offered, not holding back my rebuke.

Saint confided in me that he’d been seeing a therapist. It was through his sessions that he was diagnosed with autism and sensory processing disorder. From what I understood, the knowledge of it for him had been liberating. All these years, he was forced to navigate the world alone, void of understanding others. Our predicament hadn’t been ideal, but knowing I’d been blessed to be at his side –sketchy circumstances aside– made me proud to be his wife.

“You don’t take mess from a single soul, do you?” Mrs. Miller asked with a smile.

“No, ma’am. I don’t. I can’t. The blood pumping through my veins doesn’t allow it.”

“Well, I wouldn’t have you any other way. I didn’t mean to hold you. I just wanted to let you know that I’m glad you married my son. He’s got the right one with you.”

Sheepishly, I sighed, thinking of the expiration date of me and Saint’s agreement. This thing between us was getting messier and messier, but I couldn’t tell her that.

Mrs. Miller and I spent the duration of an hour discussing Saint and her other children before my handsome man came to collect me.

“Beauty…”

The two syllables rang through the waning day. He called out to me with his hands shoved into his pockets, his tie slackened around his neck, and his feet planted in a wide stance a few paces from where we sat. Sickeningly fine and all mine, he was. Both Mrs. Miller and I turned in his direction at the term of endearment.

“It’s time for us to get going.”

Mrs. Miller locked eyes with me again. This time, they were brimming with love. She rose to the occasion, holding her arms out. “Well, give me a hug,” she demanded, motioning for me.

I stood, stepping into her outstretched arms. “I’m so glad to have met you. You continue to take care of my boy, hear?”

“Yes, Mama,” I smiled, witnessing a tear track down Mrs. Miller’s face.

Saint kissed his mother goodbye, and then we made our way to the car. As we headed around the side of the house toward the front where the vehicles were, the earthy, citrusy combination of something that was not nicotine wafted through the air. Drawing closer to the vehicles parked out front, it became clear who the culprits of the skunky aroma were. Near a candy apple, Maserati stood the remaining three siblings as they passed around a thickly rolled joint amongst themselves. The sound of their laughter was convivial and inviting.

“Big Tori, not the little one!” Supreme sounded off upon our approach. “Come here, sis!”

Draping an arm around me, Supreme plastered a big grin on his face. The weed was partially to blame. I was sure of it. Though I didn’t partake, the scent wasn’t offensive to my nostrils. “My sis standing ten toes for my brother!” In a lowered tone, he added, “Nah, for real. You earned major points for that shit at dinner. I know you have my brother’s back. Considering he doesn’t operate like the rest of us, I appreciate that.”

The smell of whisky was heavy on Supreme’s breath, but a drunk tongue always spoke a sobered mind. It was clear that he loved his brother.

“Aight, enough of that. Get off my wife,” Saint teased, shoving Supreme’s hand from my shoulder. He enveloped me in a hug from behind. “This my baby,” he confessed, asserting his dominion.

“Oh, we’re well aware, Saint,” Serenity teased after inhaling a chest full of smoke.

“I enjoyed dinner with y’all’s punk asses. Thanks for not embarrassing me.” Saint went through the three, dapping his brothers and hugging his sister. “Aight, we out,” he announced, holding my hand as he stepped away from the group.

“Nice to meet you, big sis,” Sincere tossed over a host of chuckles. “We love you, Saint. We love you both.”

“Don’t forget about me, Tori,” Serenity yelled from behind as Saint and I made our way back to the vehicle.

“I won’t,” I smiled, waving before Saint tucked me into the car.