Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
THE NEXT DAY
Kennedi stood in the middle of an empty commercial space at the plaza on Twelve Oak Lane, phone pressed to her ear, staring at peeling paint and water stains bleeding across the ceiling. The realtor had called it “cozy with potential.” She called it a health hazard.
“No, this one’s a pass too,” she said, watching a roach scurry across the baseboards like it owned the place. “Yeah, I’ll keep looking. Thanks.”
The realtor left, and she pulled out her notes app, crossing off another address with more force than necessary.
“Why is this so hard?” she asked to no one.
Coupeville was growing, and she wanted to grow with it. But she couldn’t offer people some raggedy mess with roaches bold enough to move around in broad daylight.
Her phone buzzed with a text from Rolani.
Ro: I miss the fuck outta you! Almost home.
A rush of warmth spread through her. She’d never get used to him being gone.
Kennedi: I miss you more.
Rolani: Bet not be feeding my baby that nasty ass chicken tender and pickle and olive shit.
She laughed so loud she nearly choked on the exact combination he’d just named. The chicken tender was halfway to her mouth, a pickle spear and a handful of olives in a Ziploc bag balanced on the napkin beside her. How the hell did he know?
Kennedi:
Ro: I KNEW IT. About to have my baby on Dateline. That’s some shit psychos eat.
Kennedi: Your baby is fine! He wants what he wants.
Ro: He wants his mama to stop traumatizing his taste buds.
She smiled despite her frustration and hit the call button instead of texting back. She needed to hear his voice anyway.
“Hey,” he answered on the second ring, and hearing his voice loosened the knot in her shoulders.
“Hey.” She looked around the sad little space again and sighed. “How far out are you?”
“About twenty minutes. What’s wrong? You sound upset.”
She rubbed her forehead. “I’m getting discouraged. That’s why I’m eating my feelings with this nasty-ass combo you were clowning me about.”
“Where are you at?”
“Twelve Oaks Plaza. Looking at another space that’s not gonna work.”
“Send me your location. I’m coming to you.”
She hesitated for half a second — sharing her location still felt intimate, an admission of trust she hadn’t fully said out loud yet, even though they were well past that point. “You don’t have to do that. I’m sure you’re tired. I’m venting.”
“I know I don’t have to.” She could hear his blinker click. “But I’ve been gone, and you said ‘discouraged,’ so I can’t have that. Plus, you probably ain’t ate for real yet, and I’m not about to have my wife running on fumes out here.”
“Your wife, huh?”
“Don’t start. Send the location, Kennedi.”
She laughed and did as she was told, then stepped outside to wait.
The April weather was doing what it did best, being unpredictable, but today was nice.
A light breeze, bright sun, warmth that made winter feel like a distant memory.
She inhaled, letting the fact that she was home, really home, settle over her.
Twenty minutes later, his black Silverado pulled up to the curb. He stepped out holding two bags from Panera and a drink carrier, looking way too good in a simple black hoodie and jeans. His locs were pulled back, gold flashing when he smiled at her.
She didn’t even wait. Just ran to him and jumped into his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist like she hadn’t seen him in years.
“I missed you so much,” she said into his neck, breathing him in—cologne that made her want to live in his skin.
“I missed you too, baby.” His hands gripped her thighs, holding her up like she weighed nothing. “I’m all yours from here on out. I don’t like being away from y’all.”
She pulled back to look at him, his hazel eyes locked on hers. “How’d the Atlanta trip go?”
“Good. Deal’s done. First round of rims hitting stores next month.” His smile widened. “We did that shit, Ken.”
“You did that shit,” she corrected, but she was beaming. “I’m so proud of you.”
He set her down gently, his hand lingering on her waist. “You didn’t have to bring food,” she said, but she was already reaching for the bag. “I’m going to be as big as a house.”
“Yeah, I did. Y’all gotta eat.” He handed her a drink—an iced caramel latte, extra caramel, exactly how she liked it. How he remembered these things, she didn’t know. “Show me what you looking at.”
They walked back into the space together, and his face shifted the second he stepped inside. Unimpressed didn’t cover it. He was pissed.
“Fuck no.” He looked up at the water damage, then at the exposed wiring hanging from the ceiling like some horror movie set piece.
“Ken, this shit is not up to code. You see that?” He pointed at the outlets, wires exposed, paint chipped around the edges.
“That’s a fire hazard. And this?” He knocked on the wall, and it sounded hollow, weak, like one good push would put a hole straight through.
“This building probably got asbestos in the walls.”
“It’s in my budget,” she said quietly, hating how defeated she sounded.
“I don’t give a fuck about your budget if you gonna die in here.
” His voice was sharper than she’d heard it in weeks.
He turned to her, eyes hard. “You really think I’m about to let you work out of some condemned building?
Recording interviews by yourself, in a spot where the ceiling could fall on your head? ”
“Rolani, I told you I wanted to do this myself.”
“Nah.” He shook his head, already pulling out his phone. “This ain’t happening. Not on my watch. I changed my mind. I outta beat yo realtor ass for even showing you this raggedy ass shit.”
When she’d first brought up needing office space, he’d offered to help, and she’d declined—quickly, firmly, not even letting him finish the offer. And he’d respected that. Backed off. Let her do her thing. But now? Now that was over.
“Come eat while I set some shit up.”
They ended up sitting on the tailgate of his truck in the empty parking lot, legs dangling, food spread between them. The sun was starting to dip lower, casting everything in that golden late-afternoon light that made the whole world look softer, warmer.
She unwrapped her sandwich—turkey avocado BLT, no tomatoes because pregnancy had made her hate them—and watched him pull out his phone.
“Yeah, Carter, it’s me,” Rolani said, his tone all business. “Nah, the other space. The one on Second Street... I don’t care what you got planned for it. It’s mine, I own it, and I need the keys today, nigga... Aight, meet me there in an hour.”
Kennedi took a bite of her sandwich, satisfaction spreading through her as she watched him work — phone in one hand, sandwich forgotten on the wrapper beside him, mind already three moves ahead.
This was who he was. Always carrying something, always solving something.
And here she was, one more thing on his plate.
He must’ve caught the look on her face because he set his phone down and leaned over, kissing her forehead. “Never too busy for you, baby doll.”
“I know, but—”
“No buts.” He went back to his phone, scrolling through contacts. “You are my priority. Period.”
She bit her lip, fighting the smile trying to break free. This man.
“So tell me about this studio space,” he said after a while, taking a bite of his sandwich. “What’s the vision?”
She lit up immediately, sitting straighter.
“Okay, so Through Ken’s Lens Studios is going to be multi-purpose.
Of course, my podcast—I’m doing what I want with that.
Vlogging showed me I have a lot of hobbies and things to talk about beyond journalism.
But the studio part is for others who want to rent the space for their own podcasts.
Coupeville is growing, and I want to grow with it.
Having my own spot will really make me feel like I’ve got roots, you know?
” She giggled, suddenly self-conscious. “Sorry, I just rambled.”
“Don’t apologize.” He turned to face her fully. “I like hearing you talk about your shit. You get all animated and passionate. It’s sexy.”
Her cheeks warmed. “Stop.”
“I’m serious.” His hand found her thigh, thumb tracing lazy circles. “And I’m helping. However, you need me to.”
“Rolani—”
“Before you start,” he cut her off, “I have properties all over the city. Commercial spots I’m holding for investment. One of them is perfect for what you’re trying to do. It’s on 2nd Street, near that donut shop you like. It’s sitting empty right now.”
She opened her mouth to argue, but he kept going.
“Figure out your terms, because although you can have this building, I know you don’t want me giving you anything for free. But what I AM doing is making sure my woman is safe. That’s non-negotiable.”
She was quiet, her old instinct to fight surfacing—the need to prove she could do it alone, that she didn't need anyone.
But then she looked at him, truly looked at him.
He wasn't trying to control her. He wasn't trying to make her small or dependent.
He wanted her to be safe. He wanted her to have what she needed without settling for less.
“Rolani, I can handle this on my own,” she started, then stopped herself. Took a breath. “Butttt I’m glad I don’t have to anymore.” She laughed, the sound surprising her. “I’m okay being spoiled. I earned it.”
“You did, baby.”
“But,” she added, holding up a finger, “this is still business. I want a real lease. Everything official.”
“Deal.” He kissed her knuckles. “But this is also about me not being able to sleep at night knowing you’re in some fucked-up building that could catch fire or collapse. I can’t have that, Ken. I won’t.”
She exhaled slowly, letting herself really hear what he was saying. She’d spent so long equating independence with isolation, thinking that needing someone meant weakness. But Rolani wasn’t asking her to shrink. He was asking her to let him care.
“Can I at least see it before I decide?”