Chapter 34 Zuri
zuri
. . .
Valentine’s Day
My heart is with her on Valentine’s Day. I’d discovered the message on Montana’s social media while I lounged around as he prepared breakfast.
Today, like every day for the past month, his fans had eaten it up.
He’d even mentioned something about a new set of followers.
If they were all as thirsty as some comments Google translated for me, hell, I’d slide in his DMs and threaten that money-making arm, his muscular thighs.
And … yeah. All. Of. His. Sexy. Body. Parts.
We’d had a laid-back day because I told him I didn’t need a piece of jewelry, just him.
So, Darius gave me jewelry during an afternoon picnic—and of course, they had Big Country’s name written all over them. Golden chandelier earrings, a matching necklace, and now Montana was at the door to my bedroom with a bracelet between his fingers. Sure, it appeared dainty in his hand, but—
“Wait, give me the box,” I said, starting out of the room.
“Most girls want the jewelry, not the box.” Before I could get one toe into the hallway, he looped an arm around me, spun me toward the bed, and shut us inside the room. It happened in a blur, all while he held a large box behind his back.
“Well, now, I don’t understand the Dodgers’ choices. You could pimp slap a toddler, with those quick moves, I’d still have your bat.”
He smiled, appreciative and smug, placing a box, much too large for jewelry, on the dresser.
I poked him in the chest. “Get out. Your momma will bring out the holy water, oil, and does she have a pastor on speed dial?”
“Yep.”
“Are you crazy? We’re gonna get prayed back into the time of Noah, and with my luck, it will be seconds after he sealed the doors … so …”
“So?”
“Go!” My whispered fury didn’t faze him.
“Wear this tonight.” He gestured to the large box.
“Where are we going?”
“Not far. I told you, Zuri. This day was low-key. Just like you wanted.”
I put my hands on my hips, and he followed suit, placing his hands on mine and shifting me closer. “Tonight’s gone be perfect, chère. Trust me.”
“When we’re not in this room …” I murmured, matching the intensity of how his lips pressed against mine. A tiny nip, a gentle kiss, a playful bite, followed by another tender kiss.
His fingers threaded under the hem of my shirt. I dug my hand into the pocket of his jeans.
Montana moaned. “That’s what I’m talking about, bébé?”
As he reached for his zipper, I tugged out a small jewelry box and jumped back.
“Ch-Chanel?” I sputtered. The bracelet matched the other jewelry. “You bought Chanel? Vintage Chanel. Wait, that explains why the other jewelry wasn’t in boxes? You promised not to make a big deal—”
“Nah, that’s Chantelle. One of those vendors in the French Market. It’s fake, bébé.”
“What?”
“That’s where I got the jewelry. Good deal.”
I pressed my hands on his chest. “Good deal? Says the man who wouldn’t take a discount-store T-shirt?”
“You still on that?”
“You badmouthed Egyptian cotton—”
“Non, chère. You just needed to know the finer things in life. The finest. Sea Island Cotton. This fake jewelry? It’ll look authentic, adorning you.”
He kissed me so breathless, the room tilted, then vanished. I placed the real Chanel with the others. Lord, what was I in for tonight?
A while later, I’d showered, oiled myself until my skin resembled liquid caramel, and barely fastened an earring when a knock came. Cinching the belt of my silk robe, I opened the door.
“Maddy, what are you doing here?” I admired the way the silver sequins on her black gown caught the light. “You look beautiful. Hot date?”
“Something like that.” She gestured to a velvet box in her hands. Too grand for me to touch, like the jewelry.
“Montana wanted me to give this to you,”—a mischievous smile tugged her lips—“but the credit goes to me. Coz I made it.”
“You made—”
She pressed the box in my hands. “Girl, save those inquisitive eyes for Montana’s next grand … scheme. Open it.”
I placed it on the dresser and lifted the lid. A mask, its ethereal presence, rested against velvety purple darkness. Gold ribbons swirled through clear, thin glass.
Even with the weak bedside lamps in the room, the smooth curves still caught fire.
“This is art …” I whispered. “Where’s the wall hook?”
“Wear it, Zuri!”
“I ca-can’t break this.”
Her smile softened. “Zuri, glass isn’t just fragile. It’s strong. Strong enough to survive fire and evolve into something more beautiful. Sound familiar? Who’s been through fire?”
Heat rose in my chest, tightening my throat. “Th-thank you.”
She put a hand on my shoulder. “Montana wanted you to know tonight’s par—tonight … is about being seen.”
Wearing a mask?
I didn’t get a chance to ask because she rushed out. “Enjoy your night.”
“You too,” I replied.
“Oh, I will.” Her mouth curved sharply at the edges, just before she closed the door.
I turned toward the mirror and lifted the mask. For once, I didn’t visualize the broken pieces of a girl fighting to put herself back together for the sake of mommyhood; I saw transformation. A woman caught between firelight and gilded glass, shining in a way I hadn’t thought possible.
Montana did this. He brought the best out of me.
And damn, that boy saw me. The real me. I could never leave this place.
I prayed Edwin would never find us as I slipped into a Mardi Gras gown born for Carnival itself—a cascade of royal purple woven opulence with a deep plunge neckline.
A thick brocade skimmed my body until my hourglass figure flared into a long train.
“Oh my gosh, I’m wearing a purple and gold wedding dress.” I never imagined wearing anything like this after Edwin’s dark side appeared.
Tonight, I wasn’t slipping into a dress, but a persona—regal.
“Elevate your crown a little higher, mon chère.” Virginia stood at the door, clapping her hands together.
A smile blossomed as I lifted my chin.
“Your ride has arrived.”
Not Montana? I grabbed a shawl and twisted it in my fingers. What was going on? Madison almost said party, right?
Outside, a limousine waited. A driver opened the back door and gestured me inside. When I slid into the seat, my heart cracked. Where the hell was Montana? He was missing this. Me.
The driver’s voice was heavy, molasses-thick Cajun, and I caught a few words. Sparkling drink and maybe having me to Mr. Babineaux real quick.
Except the real quick must’ve meant something different in Cajun. I’d finished my first champagne glass and was halfway through the next. He drove so slow that I’d show up looking like the tipsy auntie at the wedding, ready for an open bar.
Maybe Montana wanted me tipsy? What had he said months ago?
Well, Zuri was relaxing! My anxiety had disappeared while I lay between Montana’s arms the first night.
It came crawling back tonight. Still, the bold champagne was definitely turning my apprehensions into a we’re-gonna-be-alright situation.
When the limo stopped, I exited once the driver opened the door. His expression made my eyes narrow in anticipation. Dang it, Montana, this better not be a party!
The oyster-shell driveway looked familiar. A discarded toy lay half tucked behind a white pillar I knew well.
This man hadn’t taken me anywhere.
Well, half a mile. The side of Montana’s estate sat glowing, a silhouette because of the candlelight and strings of lanterns. But the mansion didn’t steal my breath.
The tent did. Not like the ones where folks set up for a crawfish boil, with folding chairs and signs saying, Fresh Catch!
The massive domed tent, with its cathedral of silk, spilled Mardi Gras colors across the night sky.
Violet, emerald, and gold shimmered from the canopy, which had the nerve to glow with chandeliers.
Jazz rippled out, brass and bass mingling in the cool February air.
With the velvet box clutched under my arm, I watched people strut toward the vaulted tent.
A man with broad shoulders, dressed in a tailcoat suit, stood beside a full-figured beauty, wearing an elaborate gown fit for the queen of Mardi Gras. A feathered fantasy. I hadn’t even entered, and the two of them glittered—a living Carnival.
They handed another person a mask, then turned to me. “Zuri?” I recognized that voice. Tennessee. He peered from behind a black-and-gold trumpet mask that belonged to a jazz-playing superhero, and his friend wore the mate, with more feathers. “Where’s your mask, bébé?”
“Dahlin’, you didn’t lose it, did you?” the girl purred, voice smooth like she got paid top dollar to sound sexy and syrupy.
“I’ve got it.” I lifted the velvet box. “Took it off on the bumpy road, it’s too fragile.
“Oh, good,” she said. “Lemme help you put it back on.”
Tennessee gestured between us, making introductions. “Phoenix, Zuri. Zuri, Phoenix.”
Since he conveniently skipped the details that mattered to nosy women, I filled them in. “Your date is beautiful.”
“Best friend,” he blurted. “P is my best—”
“—friend,” Phoenix drawled, in a teasing lilt that made mommy-me wonder how friendly they got.
So naturally, I doubled down, while she held the box, and I opened it. “Hey, that’s cute, though. Your name is a location. His name is a location. Wash and Madison are named after presidents—”
And that’s when my sentence crashed and burned. Dang. I’d chosen a failed marriage for my bid at their love connection. Funny, though, the band chose this moment to add a trumpet. Yep, a comedic sound effect.
“Didn’t think of that,” he said. Boy, please. He thought of it. Everyone but the sweet tease at his side thought of it.
Phoenix swatted my arm. “Oh, bébé, you’re funny though. We just cannot! It’s off-limits. Forbidden. Heh. Grab the holy earl, you feel me?”
“Yeah, I feel you.” I chuckled. “He’s related to Montana, so the forbidden has an allure.”
Tennessee’s head tilted. “Go on, girl. Go on.”
Laughter did something to my soul as I glided into the tent. Velvet drapes cascaded like theater curtains. Guests swirled in sequined gowns, feathers, tuxedoes, and masks glittered like jewels. King cake tiers and champagne pyramids sparkled.
When the band’s horns caught the light, I wondered if Montana had invited me to a family member’s wedding. Servers wove around with trays of pralines and cocktails.
I recognized Peaches first—pink and feathers—then his mom. I distinguished a few coworkers by their phantom masks. Some teammates wore Dodger blue velvet suit jackets. The scene, though lovely, carried a weight, a poignant ache that resonated with me.
For a second, I forgot this was Valentine’s, forgot the reason I’d worn this Carnival queen gown. Forgot my doubts, forgot the shadow from the past that lingered behind.
Because this man built a whole universe just to surprise me.