Chapter 13 Colecion #2
“I don’t do this because I don’t trust you to take care of me,” I said, needing him to understand. “I do this because I need to know I can take care of myself. There’s a difference.”
“I know.” And I could see in his eyes that he finally did. “I respect that. I respect you for that. I guess I was just letting you know you could rest. Chill, slow down.”
For the first time in months, I felt myself exhale. “Thank you. We’re late for the florist, and Mrs. Patterson gets nasty when people show up behind schedule.”
Why did I just dodge him? Was it really so hard to believe that he wanted to take care of me?
The flower shop was cramped and humid, filled with the overpowering scent of roses, baby’s breath, and things green and growing.
I moved through the arrangements as if I was deciphering a language only I understood, inspecting each stem, each color combination, and every detail that could make or break the Morrison wedding reception.
“These roses are too open,” I told Mrs. Patterson, a thin black woman with silver hair and hands that had been working magic with flowers for longer than I’d been alive. “The wedding is Saturday. By then, these will be dropping petals all over the reception tables.”
“I can get you fresh ones Thursday morning,” she offered.
“Thursday afternoon,” I countered. “Cut fresh that day, delivered by six PM. And I want to see them before you load them in the truck. A picture is fine.”
I felt Lesley watching me negotiate, watching me stand firm on what I needed without being disrespectful. This was how I’d built my reputation, being demanding but fair, knowing what I was talking about, making sure everyone else knew it too.
“You’re good at this,” he said when we were loading the sample centerpieces into the trunk.
“I better be. I’ve been doing it long enough, and people pay me a lot of money to fuss over roses.”
“That woman was ready to do whatever you asked by the time you finished talking to her.”
“I learned early that being sweet and batting your eyelashes might get you a discount, but being smart and knowing your worth gets you respect. And respect pays better than charm ever will.”
The client lunch I had was at Chateau Trap, one of my favorite fusion steakhouses. All exposed brick and Edison-bulb lighting, with prices that made me grateful for Lesley’s connections, they were always willing to accommodate a Grimson.
“Ms. Outlaw, nice to meet you.”
I smiled and wiggled my ring finger. “Actually, it’s Mrs. Grimson now. I’ve gotten married since we last spoke.”
“Grimson... where do I know that name?”
“My husband and his family own several Smoothie King franchises.”
“Ah, yes,” she said, looking like she bought it. I hoped she did because the name could either hurt or harm me.
“Mrs. Whitman, the pleasure is all mine. Shall we?”
We sat, ordered, and began discussing her vision. Mrs. Whitman was exactly what I’d expected—old money trying to buy relevance through charity work, diamond tennis bracelet catching the light every time she lifted her wine glass.
But she was also a potential three-month income stream, and I wanted this contract. I’d been buttering her up for weeks.
“I want something elegant but approachable,” she said, leaning forward like she was sharing state secrets. “My daughter’s debut needs to feel exclusive without being pretentious.”
I nodded, taking notes and asking the right questions, while painting a picture of her vision and quietly steering her toward choices that would work within the timeline and budget.
This was the part of my job most people didn’t see—the psychology of it, reading what clients really wanted versus what they said they wanted.
“I can give you elegant and approachable,” I said, sliding my portfolio across the table. “But I can also give you memorable. Something your daughter will still be talking about twenty years from now.”
The rest of the lunch flowed perfectly. We discussed details, timelines, and vision while enjoying our meal.
By the time I walked out of that restaurant, I had a signed contract and a deposit check that would cover my expenses for the next three months.
More than that, I had the satisfaction of knowing I’d earned it with my skills, not my connections or my last name.
Lesley was waiting in the car when I stepped out, and there was something different in his gaze, as if he was seeing me clearly for the first time.
“How’d it go?” he asked as I settled into the passenger seat.
“Perfect. The budget’s not a problem.” I couldn’t keep the satisfaction out of my voice. “That’s three months of income secured.”
“That’s some impressive shit. I’m proud of you.
” He started the engine, glancing at me with genuine admiration.
“You just walked in there and convinced a woman who probably has her pick of event planners to trust you with one of the most important days in her daughter’s life. You got that special something, baby.”
The pride I felt was warm and unfamiliar.
For so long, my wins had been private victories, celebrated alone in my living room or shared with the few friends who understood what it meant for me to have stability.
Having Lesley witness it, acknowledge it, and celebrate it with me felt like something I didn’t know I’d been missing. I definitely had a praise kink.
“Thank you for saying that,” I said quietly. “And I’m sorry for going off on you earlier about the work question. I know you didn’t mean any harm.”
“I earned that. I don’t always say the right things at the right times. But thank you for letting me see you in action.”
“You’re welcome, and we finished by three. That’s a good day.”
On the drive back to the penthouse, I found myself looking at him differently. This man had canceled his entire day to drive me around the city, sat in parking lots while I handled business, and watched me work with open admiration instead of boredom or impatience.
This was the same man who’d cornered me in a basement months ago, who’d given me an ultimatum that felt like a death sentence at the time.
But somewhere along the way, he'd become the man I loved.
Someone who saw my strength instead of trying to manage it, who respected my independence instead of feeling threatened by it.
“Lesley,” I said as we pulled into our building’s garage. “You’re welcome to spend the day with me anytime you want. But you should know—this business, this work, this independence I fought for is not going anywhere.”
He turned off the engine and looked at me before grabbing my hand. “I wouldn’t want it to,” he said, his voice rough with pride.
“Good, but I will start spending a little of your money. What’s yours is mine, and what’s mine is… well, still mine.”
He laughed, shaking his head. “That don’t sound crazy as hell to you?”
I had to laugh, too. “That was the point, pooh.”
“Should we celebrate? Dinner?”
That caught me off guard. I blinked at him, slower than I meant to. The words caught in my throat before I let them out.
“Uhm… I wasn’t expecting you to be here. With me. Home.”
The second I said it, I saw his jaw twitch. That barely-there flinch he tried to mask with a half-smile. And it made my stomach flip because I hadn’t meant it like that. But also, I had.
“I didn’t mean…” I started, then sighed. “It’s just... I’ve gotten used to doing this alone. Last night was... new. Today was new. And you’re still here, that’s new.”
“I gotta do better,” he said, voice low.
That made my throat tight. Because all day I had been waiting for the other shoe to drop. For him to run off, get impatient, or blow me off. I was glad he was here, but I wasn’t used to sharing my space.
“I just wanna crawl in bed, watch TV, and order takeout,” I said finally, softening it with a small smile. “Nothing fancy.”
He chuckled, nodding as he got it. “To the crib it is.”
Back in the penthouse, I kicked off those heels the second we stepped through the door, my feet thanking me for the relief. It had been a long day, but a good day. The kind of day that made me believe maybe this thing between us really could work.
“I’m about to change and get comfortable,” I called over my shoulder, already heading toward the bedroom. “Thank you for today. For driving me, for... seeing me.”
He nodded, hands in his pockets, unsure what to do with himself now that our day was over. “It was my pleasure.”
In the room, I peeled off the tan dress and YSL belt, hanging them carefully in the walk-in closet, which still felt too big at times.
I quickly showered and pulled on my favorite pajama set, soft cotton shorts, and a matching tank top in dusty pink.
I wrapped my hair in a silk scarf. Then I did what I always did when I needed to decompress: I climbed into the king-sized bed, grabbed the remote, and pulled up my DVR full of reality TV shows and old sitcoms.
This was my routine, my peace. After days of being “on” for clients and vendors, I needed time to just exist without performing, without being perfect. I didn’t play around with my downtime.
I was halfway through an episode of “Insecure” when I heard footsteps in the hallway outside the door. They paused, and I could almost feel him standing there, unsure. This was his space too, but being home wasn’t his thing.
“Co, can I chill with you?”
I muted the TV, surprised by the uncertainty in his voice. “Yeah, come in.”
The door opened slowly, and Lesley stepped inside.
“Why are you being weird? This is our bedroom, and yes, this is my daily routine, but you are invited anywhere I am.”
He smiled at that, showing all his teeth, and walked over to the bed. The mattress dipped under his weight as he scooted beside me, pulling me into his arms.
“What we watching?”
“Issa Rae being messy as usual,” I said, unpausing the show. “It’s Insecure, you probably wouldn’t like it.”
“Play it, I’ll be the judge of that.”
So we sat there, curled up under each other, watching Issa navigate her complicated love life while making questionable decisions. He actually laughed a few times, and I found myself relaxing in a way I hadn’t expected.
“Hold up,” he said during a commercial break, “which one are you supposed to be? And what about Rebecca and Yaslynn?”
I turned in his arms to face him, genuinely surprised. “You’re actually paying attention?”
“Yeah,” he said simply. “So which one?”
“I guess I’m a little bit of all of them,” I said, thinking about it. “Issa, when I’m overthinking everything and making it worse. Molly, when I’m being stubborn about what I think I deserve. Tiffany, when I’m trying to hold everything together and look perfect doing it.”
“And your girls?”
“Rebecca is definitely Molly energy—successful, particular, high standards for everything. Yaslynn?” I grinned.
“She’s Kelli energy all day. Loud, hilarious, always in some drama of her own making, but she’s the one who’ll ride for me no matter what.
She’ll clown me, sure, but she’ll also pull up at 3 a.m. if I call. ”
I laughed, shaking my head at the thought. “Together, they balance me out. Rebecca keeps me sharp. Yaslynn keeps me from taking myself too seriously. Between the two of them, I stay grounded. I met them in the library one day.”
“What made you ask that?” I turned toward him, curious.
“Malice said you looked the happiest when they came to kick it. I’m just tryna figure out who was probably calling me a dog ass nigga.” He laughed again. I was melting into a puddle, just being so close.
“That would be Yaslynn,” I said, laughing. “She’s protective. But she means well. And for the record, neither of them said that.”
“You wouldn’t rat on your friends, so I don’t believe you.”
His smile lit the room up and made the seat of my pants wet.
“You’re a little crazy, jealous, and introverted, but I know a good man is in there.”
He raised an eyebrow. “A little crazy? Just a little?”
“Okay, maybe more than a little. But the good man part is what matters.” I shifted to look at him. “Yaslynn sees things. She knew you were different before I did.”
“Different how?”
“Like you actually cared about me instead of just keeping me quiet.” I traced a finger along his chain. “She said any man who sends two hundred roses and chocolate diamonds is either crazy in love or just crazy.”
He laughed, the sound rumbling in his chest. “It’s both.”
I settled back against him, feeling his arms tighten around me.
We fell quiet again, the sounds of the show mixing with our breathing.
His fingers found mine, intertwining them against my stomach, and I realized this was what I’d been missing my whole life, not just someone to be with, but someone who wanted to know my friends, who asked about the small things that mattered to me.
The day had been perfect. Absolutely perfect.