Chapter 23 #2
“I wanna court you,” he says. “I want you sitting next to me, not behind me.”
I glance back toward my car.
“What about my Bentley?”
“I’ll have security drop it off at the house.”
I raise an eyebrow.
“Who said I was coming home?”
He doesn’t hesitate.
“Me.”
I let that sit between us for a second before I shake my head.
“Not tonight.”
Something shifts in his expression—not anger… just an adjustment.
“You gotta meet me halfway, Rhy.”
I hold his gaze.
“I am.”
I don’t move toward his car, and he notices. Of course, he does. Without a word, Chauncey turns and tosses his keys to security like it’s nothing.
“Aye—bring that back,” he mutters, already moving.
Before I can question him, he’s sliding into the driver’s seat of my Bentley.
Like he belongs there.
Like he belongs with me.
I hesitate for half a second… then walk around and get in. The engine purrs to life, smooth and low.
Security falls in behind us, its headlights trailing just far enough to give space—but close enough to remind me of the world I’m in. Chauncey pulls off as if he knows the car better than I do, one hand on the wheel, the other resting casually near the gear shift.
But his eyes?
They keep finding me.
Quick glances. Lingering ones. Like he’s trying to memorize me all over again.
“Aye…” he says after a minute, a smirk tugging at his lips. “I know you wanted to call that nigga back to explain yourself.”
I burst out laughing before I could stop myself. He’s not wrong.
“I sure did,” I admit, shaking my head. “If you don’t act right, Kosh is definitely gon’ be my man.”
“Whatever,” he mutters.
But I catch that shift in his jaw.
That tension.
“You know I’mma beat his ass, right?”
I cut my eyes at him.
“I thought you changed.”
“I have,” he says simply.
A beat.
“But that nigga still gotta see me.”
I shake my head, looking out the window as the city lights blur past us—bright, loud, alive.
Same city.
Different energy.
Tonight… feels different. Downtown Teflon Hills glows as we pull up to the Riverfront. Soft lights dance across the water. Music floats low in the air.
And people.
Watching. Always watching. The second we step out of the Bentley, it hits. Eyes up. Phones out. The city whispers. I feel it—and I don’t shrink. I eat that attention up.
Because tonight? I’m the topic. Not just his wife, the one who left. But the one he came back for. Chauncey doesn’t even acknowledge the noise.
His hand finds the small of my back. Guiding. Not forcing. And for once… it doesn’t feel like he’s trying to control me. It feels like he’s being intentional.
Inside, the table is already set. Private setting. Right by the water. Candles flickering between us. Soft enough to be romantic. Dim enough to hide the tension in both our chests. He pulls out my chair.
I pause. Because Chauncey… don’t do this. But tonight?
He does.
“Thank you,” I say quietly as I sit down.
He nods, taking his seat across from me—but his eyes never leave mine.
Not once.
“You look good,” he says.
Simple. No extras. Somehow… it hits harder than anything he’s ever said to me.
“Thank you,” I reply, softer this time.
A beat passes. Then another. Instead of filling it with noise… he lets it sit. Let me sit in it with him.
“Talk to me,” he says at last.
And it’s not a demand. It’s an invitation. I study him for a second, really study him.
“You’re different,” I say.
“I’m trying to be,” he admits.
“For me?”
“For us.”
That lands somewhere dangerously deep in my fucking soul. Gosh, this nigga is saying the right shit. I won’t say it’s the wrong time, because I wanted this for so long.
Dinner comes and goes, but neither of us really focuses on the food. It’s the conversation. The looks. The moments when our hands brush by accident… and neither of us pulls away right away.
By the time we step back outside, the air feels warmer. Or maybe it’s just us. He opens the passenger door for me again—but this time… I don’t get in. I just stand there, looking at him.
Feeling everything, I said I wasn’t going to feel. His hand comes up, slow this time… giving me time to move.
But I don’t.
His fingers brush my cheek. Gentle. As if he’s trying to learn me all over again.
“Rhy…” he murmurs.
My breath catches. And this time? I don’t step back. I don’t run away.
I just…stay.
Chauncey closes the small gap between us, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me in as tight as he can, as if he’s been holding back all night. My heart skips a beat, sending fireflies through my body all at once.
“What am I doing wrong?” he murmurs.
“Nothing,” I breathe.
“I’m scared.”
“I know.” A quiet beat passes between us, heavy with all we’re not saying.
“I promise I don’t want to hurt you anymore.”
Silence lingers because… “I’ve heard it before.”
“I know you have,” he adds softly, “but this time… I’m gonna show you.”
My fingers press lightly against his chest. “I ain’t ready to feel this,” I whisper.
“I know,” he says, his voice steady. “But I want you to.”
Another beat passes before he looks down at me, something real in his eyes this time. “Can I kiss you, Rhy? I’m asking because I don’t want you to reject me in front of the city.”
I almost smile.
“What did I tell you earlier?”
“I heard you,” he replies, “but you can’t stop what’s about to happen. We wasted too much time apart. I’m tryna earn my place back.”
His hand slides up, fingers brushing my ponytail, slow enough to let me pull away—but I don’t. He leans in, soft at first, testing, waiting… and when his lips finally meet mine, it’s warm, real, and everything I tried to ignore. I hesitate for half a second—then kiss him back.
That’s all it takes. The tension snaps, and his grip tightens as the kiss deepens, pulling something out of me I swore I had locked away. God… I was afraid of this. It’s not just a kiss—it’s everything.
This kiss is long, passionate, and overdue—neither of us ready to pull apart. The city is watching, cameras rolling, but we don’t give a fuck. It’s our moment, and we’re sitting in it.
Let ’em talk.
Security starts closing in on us, and Chauncey finally breaks the kiss, still holding me close as if he’s afraid to let me go.
“Boss man, I hate to interrupt you and the missus, but we have action that needs your attention. Simmy, True, and Coop are waiting.”
I look at Chauncey, and he looks back at me like he already knows he doesn’t want this night to end—but the streets are calling, and it’s serious if the whole crew is in attendance. I try to break free from his grip, but he tightens his hold.
“Aye, stop running. We ain’t done here.”
“The streets are calling,” I remind him.
“The streets can wait—they’ve been waiting. The streets move on my time, not the other way around.”
“Noted,” I mutter.
“I hope you are taking notes.”
“Somewhat,” he replies, then lets out a breath.
“I don’t want our night to end, but I still have some shit to take care of before I can fully lock in.”
“I know.”
A beat passes.
“I want you back home, Rhy, in our home. I know it’s too soon.”
“It is.”
“But I want you there. It’s time to make our house a home.”
“One day at a time.”
“I know.” He studies me for a moment.
“Can I see you after I handle this?”
“I don’t know.”
“What you don’t know?”
“If I want to continue this… because what we finna do.”
“Shit, I just wanna hold you until you fall asleep.”
“We’ll see.”
“I promise I’ll be patient.”
“We’ll see…”
He nods once.