Chapter 1
Lauren
The ambiance of The Bygone was exactly what I needed after a grueling week at the private practice. You would think being an optometrist was chill, but it wasn’t. Around this time, everybody and they Mama needed use their benefits before the next quarter. This dinner date came right on time.
Suspended high above the Baltimore Inner Harbor, the restaurant was a masterclass in old-school velvet luxury and amber lighting. As beautiful as the panoramic views of the water were, my eyes kept snapping right back to the man sitting across from me.
He had on a custom-tailored, deep emerald velvet blazer that mapped perfectly over his frame. His beard was lined up to absolute perfection. The man smelled so damn good that it made me want to lean across the white tablecloth and bite him.
But it was the subtle ice on him that really showed how he carried his coins.
Glinting against his dark skin were his signature diamond studs, flashing and gleaming under the restaurant's dimness.
Then he rested his forearm on the table, and the light hit his wrists.
We were both wearing our matching luxury watches.
Our custom pieces screamed wealth but looked classy, sitting perfectly against our skin.
It was a quiet flex, a visual reminder of how he always took care of me and made sure I was laced in nothing but the best.
The man had locked this specific, private corner booth down weeks ago, tracking my hectic schedule way better than I did.
When we walked in, he didn't wait for the hostess. He slid my chair out himself before I sat down. It was the kind of gesture that didn’t come from manners alone.
I been watching him all evening.
That had always been one of my quiet habits with the men I loved, I had this need to memorize them in still moments, to take inventory of the details that nobody else was paying attention to. I had never told him that.
I was starting to think maybe I should.
His fingers were thick and lined with distinct callouses from holding clippers and heavy shears all day. Beneath the white linen of the tablecloth, Malcolm’s hand found my knee. His palm was so warm. His thumb traced circles against the fabric of my tailored trousers.
It was an intoxicating friction that sent a quiet ripple up my back.
The chemistry between us was crowding the table. It was so thick, it made breathing feel like a conscious choice.
"You're staring, Doc," Malcolm murmured before a dimpled smile split through his beard.
"I'm appreciating my view," I said, lifting my glass to my lips. My eyes were locked onto his over the rim. "You clean up nice."
"Only the best for my woman," he said. His dark eyes were heated and locked on me.
Lately, it was getting harder and harder for us to have a quiet night out without an audience.
Malcolm’s career had absolutely caught fire over the last year.
He was undisputed royalty in the Baltimore hair scene, one of the top women’s hair specialists and master barbers in the city.
A few months back, a couple of his transformation reels went viral on TikTok, showing him turning damaged, transitioning hair into these flawless, high-end pixie cuts and razor-sharp silk presses.
After that, his content blew up, his subscriber count skyrocketed, and his shop became a rotating door for women traveling all the way from Philly, DC, and New York just to get a seat in his chair.
With that kind of internet fame came a ridiculous amount of female attention. His DMs were a horror show of women trying to shoot their shot, but Malcolm never entertained the circus. He kept his head down, focused on his craft, and remained entirely locked in on me.
Case in point, right as our waiter cleared our dinner plates, a woman at a neighboring table finally plucked up the courage to walk over. She was dressed to the nines, but she was looking at Malcolm like he was a walking lottery ticket.
"Excuse me, I'm so sorry to interrupt your date," she said, her voice a little too high, her eyes scanning Malcolm’s body. "But are you Malcolm? From Instagram? The short-hair guru?"
Malcolm’s demeanor didn't shift an inch. He didn't sit up straighter, he didn't flex, and his hand never left my knee under the table. He just gave her a polite, professional nod.
"Yeah, that's me. Appreciate the love, sis," he said, his voice flat but courteous.
"Oh my god, your work is amazing! I've been trying to get a slot on your Booksy for months," she gushed, lingering a little too long, waiting for him to open the door for a longer conversation.
"I unlock the calendar on the first of every month at midnight," Malcolm said, his body language staying completely angled toward me. "Have a good night."
It was a masterclass in a polite dismissal. The woman blinked, realizing she’d hit a brick wall, nodded quickly, and scurried back to her table.
The second she was gone, Malcolm turned his full attention back to me. He reached across the table, taking my hand in his warm palm. "I'm sorry about that, Ma. You know how people get. I'm locked in on you."
"You handled it fine," I smiled, squeezing his hand. I loved the way he protected our space. It made me feel safe and desired.
The waiter returned, sliding a decadent chocolate lava cake between us for dessert. The mood shifted, the light laughter fading into something much deeper, much more intimate.
His fingers tightened around mine, his thumb tracing the bone structure of my wrist.
"Lauren," he started. "Look at me."
I met his gaze, my heart doing a strange, sudden flutter.
"I love you down to your toes," he said. "You know how I feel about you. I look at you and I see my wife. I see the woman I want to build a whole life with. But we’ve been doing this on-and-off dance for years now."
He paused, his jaw tightening slightly as he looked at our joined hands.
"You never, ever talk about the future. You never bring up marriage. It's like you got this invisible wall up, and the second I try to step past it to build something permanent with you, you pull back. I need to know where we're going, Ma. Because I'm all in."
Inside, my entire system instantly froze. The upscale restaurant faded into a deafening roar in my ears. I couldn't let Malcolm see the cracks.
I forced a slow, lazy smile onto my face.
"Damn, babe," I laughed softly. "You're getting real heavy over some chocolate cake, aren't you?"
Malcolm didn't laugh. He just watched me, his eyes searching my face.
"We have an amazing thing going right now," I continued as I played it cool.
"Look at us. You're killing it at the shop, I'm basically running the practice, and we have a beautiful, stress-free dynamic. There’s absolutely no need to go rushing into government paperwork and ruin a perfect thing. Let's just enjoy what we have, babe."
Malcolm didn't pull his hand away, but the warmth completely evaporated from his touch. A quiet smile spread across his face, but it was a hollow imitation of his usual grin. It never reached his eyes.
“Just think about it, okay Doc?”
“Okay, babe. I will.”
I picked up my dessert fork and fed him the first bite.
“Thank you.”
“Of course, baby.” I took a forkful for myself.
"I set up an appointment for us at the jeweler's downtown tonight," he murmured. "To go look at rings. I’m talkin’ about pieces that’ll make that watch on your wrist look like a damn play-toy.
I was gonna surprise you, but..." He paused, his eyes searching my face, looking for any sign of a retreat.
"Should I call 'em and cancel, Ma? I don’t want you to feel pressured to do anything. "
I looked at the raw emotion tight in his eyes, scared of my answer. He wasn't playing games, and he wasn't hiding behind his usual slick talk. He was being real and vulnerable with me.
"No," I whispered, the word slipping out of my mouth. "Don't cancel it, Malcolm. We’re going."
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
“.. I really love you, Lauren D’Amore.”
“I love you back, Malcolm Shutters.”
His expression softened instantly.
That dimpled grin finally broke through the tension like a damn sunburst.
Hours later, after we left the jeweler's with my head spinning, we were back in his house.
Malcolm didn't even wait for me to take off my heels before he picked me up and took me to bed.
He sat me on the edge of the bed, kissing my forehead before he stepped back.
He walked over to his nightstand, opened the drawer, and pulled out a black velvet box.
"Since you wanna act like you don't know you're mine," he grunted softly, stepping up on me.
He popped the box open. Inside was another custom, iced-out timepiece. It was a blinding, rose-gold luxury watch that sat perfectly against my brown skin.
My jaw dropped. “Wow… this is.. Wow babe. I love it.”
He took my wrist, took off the watch from earlier. Then, he clipped the cold band into place.
“How does it fit?”
I nodded. “Perfect.”
Then he leaned down to press a soft kiss against the back of my hand.
When we finally crawled under the heavy duvet, he didn't try to touch me for sex.
He knew my mind had been running a million miles an hour all day.
Instead, he slid his body up behind me, pulling me against his chest until there wasn't a single inch of space left between us.
He wrapped his arms around me, locking me in place.
We stayed like that for a long time, just listening to the quiet hum of the night. As the darkness of the room settled in and my eyelids started getting heavy, Malcolm shifted. He nuzzled his face deep into the crook of my neck. He let out a long, ragged breath that warmed my collarbone.
"I love you so damn much, Lauren," he mumbled into my skin. "Swear to God on everything I love, I can't even picture a life where I ain't waking up next to your fine ass every morning. It don't even make sense without you."
He tightened his grip on my waist, pulling me closer, if that was even possible.
"But I ain't rushing you, hear me? We can go as slow as you need to go. I'll wait on you forever if I have to. I just need you to know you're mine. I'm locked in for life."
Hearing this big, arrogant dude melt down into deep vulnerability made me completely weak.
All my defenses, all my overthinking, and even the lingering shadow of my past just drifted away.
I let out a defeated sigh, tangling my fingers into his hands.
The powerful rise and fall of his chest against my back soothed me straight to sleep.