Chapter 33
Chapter Thirty-Three
DK
Ipatrol the living room, wearing a trench in the hardwood as I pace the floorboards from one end to the other.
It’s already eight. Has she told him yet? Is she doing okay?
Luna has her own mind, but I know having her father’s support is crucial to her.
Neo: Any word yet?
He’s been my co-pilot through the waiting, helping me navigate the kind of anxiety that makes my whole body feel like a shaken soda can.
Me: No. It’s been 2 hours.
Neo: Try to chill, bro.
Easy for him to say. I drag my hands down the sides of my shorts and force myself to sit. Thirty seconds later, I’m back on my feet.
Then finally—
My phone lights up with a message from her.
Mnandi Luna: We talked. He’s expecting your call. No pressure, boo. Just be your amazing self.
I stare at the screen, rereading the message. This just got real.
Her father. Me. Two men she deeply cares about meeting in a way that counts.
I text Neo. He wishes me luck. Then I scroll to Montell Webber, about to make the most important call of my life.
It rings three times before he answers. “This is Mo.”
“Mr. Webber, it’s Dakarai Ramos. I appreciate you taking my call, sir.”
“I don’t have to tell you how much this relationship could cost my daughter,” he says, cutting straight to it.
“I’m doing everything possible to minimize the risk.”
“Except stay away from her.”
“Yes, sir. Except that.” I own it. “I have strong feelings for your daughter. I know my position makes that hard to believe, but my intentions are honest. I wanted you to hear that from me.”
“Honesty is a high bar, and a secret relationship doesn’t exactly clear it.”
“I understand your concern. Rayne isn’t someone I want to hide.
I’d be proud as anything to make us known.
But women in politics don’t always get a fair shake…
and this… our relationship being made public now while I’m working for Diablo would make unwanted headlines.
Until the election is over, discretion is what we decided is best—for Rayne and her campaign. ”
A measured silence. I can almost feel him weighing my character through the line.
“You believe you’re what’s best for her?” he asks.
“Only Rayne gets to decide that. But I am committed to being the man she needs.” I picture her face in the breath I take before I speak again. “Rayne loves with her whole heart, and she deserves to be loved that way, too.”
“On that, we can agree.” Another pause. A father processing. Worrying. “Rayne is convinced you’re a good man. Sincere. I trust my daughter.”
“Thank you, sir, for keeping an open mind. That means a lot.”
“It should. I don’t want her hurt by any of this.”
“I won’t let that happen.”
“I’ll hold you to it. We’ll talk again. Good night.”
“Good night.”
The line clicks dead. I stop pacing and lower the phone, realizing I’ve been gripping it tight enough to crack the screen. I flex my hand, opening and closing my fist. The call went better than I expected.
I fill in Neo, needing to brain-dump unfiltered before I talk to Luna.
An hour later, I’m horizontal in bed, lights out for our ten o’clock call. Tonight, I tap the video icon, needing to both hear and see her.
“Luna,” I murmur when she appears, nestled against her pillows, looking soft, relaxed, and so damn perfect.
“You survived,” she teases, though her eyes search mine for the real story. “How was it?”
“Your dad was more than fair.” I recount the conversation, feeling the nervous energy spike again. “What did he think?”
“He doesn’t like the situation, obviously, but he believes your feelings for me are genuine. That’s big with my dad.”
I blow out a relieved breath, knowing what that means to her. “I’ll talk to my family tomorrow.” We’d agreed to stay private publicly, but not from the people who love us.
“Are you sure you want to tell them now?”
“In case you missed that part, you mean everything to me, Luna.”
Her eyes soften, unguarded in the glow of my screen.
“Aw, boo. I want to be with you so bad. In the crook of your arm, all cuddled up in your warmth. You have no idea how much I miss that. Having to pretend, not being able to do couple-things… that’s the hardest part. I’m not complaining. Just… saying.”
“It’s the same for me, Luna.” Then I say the thing that’s been sitting on my chest since the lake house. “I’ve been thinking about quitting.”
The softness in her face doesn’t just fade; it vanishes. The screen jostles as she bolts upright in bed, staring at me through the camera with wide-eyed disbelief. “You don’t mean that.”
“I’m the one drafting strategies to keep you out of the office you’re more than capable of holding, then I’m the same man calling you at night wanting to be your shelter from it all.
” I drag a hand over my beard. “I know quitting wouldn’t suddenly allow us to go public.
We’d probably still have to wait until after the election to avoid becoming a distraction to your campaign.
But at least I wouldn’t be fighting what you stand for. ”
“No.” She shakes her head firmly. “You’re not quitting.
Not for me. I don’t need you sacrificing your comeback, DK.
You’re proving to yourself that you can do it differently this time.
Healthier. Better.” Her expression turns tender and a little overwhelmed.
“But knowing you’d walk away for me? Whew.
” She presses a palm to her chest. “You’d actually give up a shot at winning this. ”
“When it comes to the job, there’s no contest, Luna,” I tell her honestly. “You are the win.”
“Boy, you’re about to make me cry.” Tears shine in her eyes. “That tells me exactly where I stand in your world. That’s all I need. So no quitting, okay?”
A smile spreads across my face, equal parts affection and admiration. “I should’ve known you wouldn’t let me off that easily.”
“Damn right.” Her grin turns watery. “I plan to beat the best strategist in the business, so you better keep bringing it.” Then she adds, softer and quieter. “We know what we have, DK. Trust. That’s why we can handle this.”
There are still three months left in the campaign, and as long as I’m on the job, I have a duty to Diablo that I take seriously. I can’t give him less than my best.
But my personal loyalty belongs to Luna.
With the matter settled for her, she slides back onto her side, curling up the way she does. “Now,” she says, her eyes smiling, “tell me about this plan to meet.”
I let thoughts of quitting fall away for now and turn onto my side, propping the phone against my pillow. “You said you’re going to be at Town Hall on Thursday, right? Meeting with the city council?”
“Yes. To discuss my replacement.”
“I’ll be there for a zoning meeting with the municipal engineer.”
Luna rolls her eyes, but I’m not about to debate politics while her face is half-buried in pink pillows. “Meet me in the old municipal wing. Nobody uses that part of the building anymore since the storage records were moved. It’ll be private… and safe.”
“Oooh, Dakarai Ramos. You looking to get freaky in Town Hall—christening my future home?”
“What better way to mark your territory?”
“I like that. A lot.”
“Text when you’re ready.”
“I’ll be there with bells on.”
“Will they be dangling from your nipples?”
“Too obvious. I can’t be ringing all over Town Hall.” She laughs. Then her grin shifts from playful warmth to seductive. “I have something more discreet in mind.”
“What?” I ask, my blood already rushing at the possibilities.
“You’ll have to wait and see.”
I would ask for a preview, but I know Luna doesn’t do anything explicit over video. She told me that Hollis secretly taped her once. She made him delete it, but that broken trust still carries a stain.
In two days, I’ll have her in my arms—real skin, soft, warm, no screen between us.
“You’re worth the wait,” I tell her as we settle deeper beneath our covers, neither of us wanting to hang up.
We talk for a little longer before doing the muscle-relaxation exercise she insists on every night. It helps. Sleep pulls her under first. I watch Luna’s face relax on the screen, slipping into dreams. I match my breathing to hers the way that calms me, until eventually, I drift off too.
“Play up your business strengths,” I say, standing in Diablo’s office. “Your tenure as President of Harbor Bank is your greatest asset when it comes to locking down the Chamber of Commerce endorsement.”
“Ten years,” he says proudly, straightening his tie.
“Lean into that fiscal leadership angle hard,” I say, even while my mind runs a split-screen between work and Luna.
Each hour until I see her tomorrow drips slowly through a narrow funnel, like time is being petty on purpose.
As soon as Diablo leaves for his meeting, I do one final walk-through of the old municipal wing to make sure I haven’t missed anything.
Empty corridors, no foot traffic, no cameras, the unlocked stairwell door. It’s a solid plan.
Ash and I hit the gym after work.
“You’re attacking those weights like they owe you money,” he says, spotting my chest presses. “You good, man?”
“Yeah,” I grunt, still pulsing with a restless energy a workout can’t touch.
Dinner is Gogo’s leftovers. The aroma of toasted coriander, black pepper, cloves, nutmeg, and allspice fills the kitchen. It smells like childhood. Like home.
The TV hums in the background while I eat. Election coverage rolls across the screen—Diablo looking seasoned, Rayne looking fresh. Voters have a real choice.
But it’s not the campaign on my mind. It’s telling my family about Luna.
I mute the sound and tap my mother’s number. She answers on the second ring, the kitchen behind her.
“Sawubona, ndodana,” she says, smiling, though her eyes are already doing that X-ray thing, looking for signs of exhaustion. “How are you sleeping?”
Before I can answer, Gogo’s voice cuts in from off-screen. “Is that my grandson or a ghost?”
I huff out a laugh.
She nudges my mother aside, leaning so close to the camera that her forehead takes up half the frame. “There he is.”
“It’s only been a few days, Gogo. And I text all the time.”
“Tap, tap,” she scoffs, jabbing a finger toward the screen. “‘Hey, Gogo.’ Your brother, too. Comes to eat, then disappears like a raccoon.”
“Ma,” my mother scolds gently, but Gogo only sniffs.
“Your face is telling stories, boy.”
My father appears last, pulling up a chair. Quiet as always, his gaze is assessing. “DK.”
“Hi, Dad.”
Having all six eyes focused on me feels like sitting under a microscope. They’re searching for cracks, some sign I’m burning myself out again. I rub the back of my neck and slip into my usual report.
“I’m not overworking. I’m sleeping better. Going to the gym. Hanging out with Ash. All normal things. “I take a breath and go for the main event. “And… I met someone.”
“Halala!” Gogo brightens. “I knew it. A face doesn’t lie.”
“Tell us about her,” Mom says, her curiosity immediate.
“She’s… incredible.” The word feels too small for Luna. “Smart. Funny. Driven. She has a huge heart and fights for what she believes in. She lights up a room just by standing in it.”
“Ubonakala emuhle ngaphakathi,” Mom says, clapping softly. “You see the soul. What’s her name?”
“Rayne.”
“Strong name,” Gogo says. “A good start. When did you meet?”
“About a month ago,” I admit, skipping the details of how.
“And we’re just hearing about her now?” Mom asks.
“We’ve been keeping it… quiet.” I shift on the couch. “Rayne is running for mayor against my candidate.”
A hush follows, thick and heavy, like the cabin pressure building after takeoff.
My father speaks first. “You’re political rivals.” Not a question. A warning. “This could be a local scandal, DK.”
“We’re being careful.” I hold his gaze. “Rayne has far more to lose than I do, which is why this stays only with us and Neo. Yes, it’s risky. But she’s the one I want.”
“Campaigning is already grueling work,” he says, concerned. “Adding a secret relationship with the opposition on top of that… It’s a heavy load on you.”
He and my mother exchange the kind of weary look shaped by D.C. and the hard road back. I’ve carried that look like a debt I could never repay—the fear, the tears, the worry that still shadows their eyes.
But telling Luna the truth, finally allowed me to give myself some grace… maybe even forgiveness. Which means it’s time to address the real thing hanging over us.
“I didn’t collapse because of work stress,” I say, keeping my voice even and direct. “I collapsed because I pushed my system too far for too long. That doesn’t make me fragile.”
“We don’t see you as fragile, DK,” my mom says, choking up. “We worry because we love you.”
“I know, Mom. But it’s there in the way you all look at me like you’re waiting for it to happen again. It feels like that’s all you see. The version of me that fell apart.”
My father exhales slowly, his shoulders dropping an inch. “We never wanted you to feel that way.”
“But I do,” I press on, because I need it said. “Every time you ask me about sleep, or if I’m eating. I know what you’re really asking. I need you to trust me. Trust that I’m taking care of myself. Trust that I’m never going back to that place again.”
“DK is right,” Gogo declares with absolute conviction, the way she does when her mind is made up.
“That isinyama still sits among us. It makes our house heavy, even through this thing.” She sweeps her hand sharply across the camera lens as if she’s brushing away cobwebs.
“We clean the trail of it now. We leave it behind.”
“Yebo,” my mother agrees with tears in her voice. And in the corner of the screen, my father nods once. Final. A silent pact.
“Then it’s settled,” Gogo announces. “Tell us more about this Rayne.”
I smile despite myself. “You can get to know her yourself. I’d like to bring her home for your birthday next weekend, if that’s okay.”
That lands exactly the way I knew it would. They all recognize this is serious. I’ve never brought a woman home before, let alone for a family celebration.
“Of course,” Mom says, her smile wide. “We’d love to meet her.”
“Does she eat?” Gogo asks, narrowing her eyes like this is the deciding factor.
“Yebo, Gogo. She likes food.”
“Good. I don’t trust a woman without an appetite. Tell her to come hungry.”
“I will.” I laugh, and for the first time since leaving D.C., the air actually feels lighter, as if Gogo’s cleansing ritual really worked.
When the call ends, I lean back and finish my beer. That conversation went deeper than I planned, but it needed to. The static in my head finally quiets, the guilt I’ve held onto for so long loosens.
I’d set the expectation. I wanted to be treated like a man again—not a patient or cautionary tale.
I have a lot to tell Don on Friday. But the person I want to tell most is Luna.
I reach for my phone.