Chapter 43 Zainab
ZAINAB
I woke up to the feeling of his lips on my thigh.
“Mmm.” I stretched, my eyes still closed, a smile already spreading across my face. “What are you doing?”
“What does it look like?” Prime’s voice was low, rough with sleep and something else. Something more passionate. “Giving my Goddess a proper good morning.”
His mouth trailed higher. Slow. Deliberate. His hands spreading my thighs wider, making room for himself.
“Prime… we have to get ready. The grand opening—”
“Isn’t for four hours.” His breath was hot against my center. “I got time.”
Then his tongue was on me and I stopped thinking about anything else.
He ate me like I was his last meal. Slow at first, savoring, then building in intensity until my back was arching off the bed and my fingers were gripping the sheets.
My belly was round now—six months along—but he worked around it with ease, one hand splayed across my hip, the other gripping my thigh.
“You’re so beautiful like this,” he murmured against my skin. “So fucking beautiful.”
I came with his name on my lips.
He kissed his way back up my body. My hip. My belly. The underside of my breast. My collarbone. My jaw. Finally, my mouth.
“Good morning,” he said against my lips.
“Good morning yourself.”
He settled beside me, one hand resting on my stomach. The baby kicked—she’d been active lately, especially in the mornings—and Prime’s whole face changed. Softened in a way that still surprised me.
“Hey, baby girl.” He lowered his head, pressing his lips to my belly. “It’s Daddy. You being good for your mama?”
Another kick. Right against his palm.
“That’s my girl.” He rubbed slow circles on my skin. “I got big plans for you, you know that? You’re gonna be so loved. So protected. You’re never gonna know what it feels like to be scared. Never gonna know what it’s like to wonder if your parents care about you.”
My throat tightened. I knew what he was doing. Making promises to our daughter that his mother had never made to him.
“You’re gonna have everything,” he continued, his voice dropping lower. “A mama who loves you. A big brother who’s gonna protect you. And a daddy who will burn the whole world down for you if anybody ever tries to hurt you.”
I ran my fingers through his locks. “You’re gonna be a good father, Prentice.”
He looked up at me. Those icy eyes that could be so cold, so deadly—right now they were warm. Open. Vulnerable in a way he only ever was with me.
“I’m gonna try,” he said. “That’s all I can do. Try to be better than what I had.”
“You already are.”
He kissed my belly one more time, then pushed himself up.
“Come on, Goddess. We got a bakery to open.”
Sweet Zin’s.
My name on a building. My dream made real.
I stood on the sidewalk, staring up at the storefront like I couldn’t quite believe it was real.
The sign was gorgeous—elegant script in rose gold against a cream background.
Through the windows, I could see the display cases filled with my Zinnamon rolls, the exposed brick walls, the cozy seating area with plush chairs and marble tables.
Eight months ago, I was serving tables at Grits. Dealing with Larry’s wandering hands. Scraping together tips to pay rent.
Now this.
“You okay?” Prime’s hand found the small of my back.
“Yeah.” My voice came out thick. “I just… I can’t believe this is happening.”
“Believe it.” He pressed a kiss to my temple. “You earned this.”
The crowd was already gathering. Press. Food bloggers. Neighbors curious about the new spot. And scattered throughout—family.
Quest and Justice arrived first, both in tailored suits, looking every bit the successful businessmen they were. Quest pulled me into a careful hug, mindful of my belly.
“Congratulations, sis. This place is beautiful.”
Justice hugged me next. “You need anything, you let us know.”
“I appreciate y’all. For real.”
Then the Kings started arriving.
Creed came first, his sharp eyes scanning the space the way they always did—assessing, cataloging, missing nothing. Beside him was Sloane, his wife. Beautiful. Warm. The woman who had been working with Yusef for the past five months.
“Zainab.” Sloane pulled me into a hug. “Congratulations. This is incredible.”
“Thank you.” I held her a little tighter than necessary. “And thank you for… for everything you’ve done for Yusef. I don’t know where he’d be without you.”
She pulled back, her eyes kind. “He’s making progress. Slowly, but it’s there. The nightmares have stopped. That’s huge.”
“He still won’t talk.”
“He will. When he’s ready.” She squeezed my hands. “Trauma doesn’t heal on our timeline. It heals on its own. Our job is just to be there when it does.”
I nodded, blinking back tears. “Thank you. Really.”
Cannon and Queen arrived next. Cannon—Creed’s brother, who looked so much like him.
“Damn, girl. You did that.”
“I did.” I couldn’t help but smile back. “Tell Queen I said thank you for the advice on the business plan. Her notes were everything.”
Queen appeared beside him, elegant as always. “You did the hard work. I just pointed you in the right direction.”
Riot and Allure came in behind them. Riot with his easy smile and Allure with her arm linked through his, looking like they’d stepped off a magazine cover.
“This place is gorgeous,” Allure said, looking around. “And something smells amazing.”
“Zinnamon rolls. Fresh out the oven.”
“I need twelve. Immediately.”
I laughed. For the first time in months, the sound felt natural. Easy.
Then I saw Serenity push through the crowd and my jaw dropped.
Because next to her was Mehar.
But not the Mehar I’d known five months ago. Not the broken, bruised woman who’d shown up at Prime’s door with nothing but the clothes on her back.
This Mehar was a BADDIE.Her face was made-up perfection. Flawless foundation, contoured cheekbones, lips glossy and full. False lashes that made her eyes look huge and dramatic. Her hair was done, fresh buss down, long and flowing down her back. And her outfit…
Tight jeans that hugged every curve. A cropped top that showed off her flat stomach. Heels that made her legs look endless. Gold jewelry dripping from her neck, her wrists, her ears. A new tattoo of a rose around her wrist.
Heads turned as she walked through the room. Men and women alike.
“Holy shit,” I breathed.
Serenity grinned. “I know, right? My little project.”
Mehar reached me and pulled me into a hug, careful of the belly, just like everyone else.
“I’m so proud of you,” she said. “Zahara would be proud too.”
I held her tight, tears threatening again. “Look at you. You look… Mehar, you look incredible.”
“I feel incredible.” She pulled back, and there was something in her eyes I’d never seen before. Confidence. Freedom. “For the first time in my life, I feel like ME.”
I looked at the two of them standing side by side. Prime’s little sister and my little sister. Both rebuilding their lives after marriages that had tried to break them. They’d become roommates a few months ago, and the arrangement had been good for both of them.
Yusef stood beside me, quiet as always. He hadn’t spoken a word in five months—not since the basement—but the nightmares had stopped.
The haunted look in his eyes had faded slightly.
And right now, standing in front of my bakery on the biggest day of my life, he did something that made my heart crack open.
He took my hand.
Just held it. Squeezed once.
I squeezed back, blinking away tears. “I love you,” I whispered. “So much.”
He didn’t respond. But he didn’t let go either.
Progress. Slow and painful, but progress.
The mayor arrived forty-five minutes later.
Vivica Banks swept into Sweet Zin’s like she owned the place, her entourage trailing behind her, cameras already flashing. She was wearing a perfectly-tailored cream-colored suit, her smile wide and practiced.
I hated her.
Hated the way she moved through the world like everyone owed her something. Hated the way she’d treated Prime his whole life. Hated the way she showed up at events like this for the photo ops and the good press, playing the supportive politician when she didn’t give a damn about any of us.
But I smiled anyway.
Because having the mayor at your grand opening was good for business. Because sometimes you had to play the game even when you despised the other players.
“Zainab!” Vivica pulled me into an air kiss, her perfume overwhelming. “Congratulations. This place is absolutely charming.”
“Thank you, Mayor Banks. I appreciate you coming.”
“Of course! I love supporting Black women in business. And you’re carrying my precious grandchild.” She said it loud enough for the cameras to hear. “You’re an inspiration to the community.”
I wanted to vomit.
Prime appeared beside me, his hand on my back. Vivica’s smile tightened almost imperceptibly when she saw him.
“Prentice. You look well.”
“Vivica.”
Not “mother.” Not “Mom.” Just her name, cold and flat.
“Well.” She recovered quickly, turning back to me. “I should mingle. But congratulations again. This is really lovely.”
She swept away, her entourage following, and I let out a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding.
“I hate that woman,” I muttered.
“Join the club.” Prime kissed my temple. “Come on. It’s time for your speech.”
The crowd gathered around the small platform we’d set up near the front of the store. Press in the front row, phones and cameras ready. Family scattered throughout. Strangers who would hopefully become regulars.
I took a deep breath and stepped up to the microphone.
“Thank you all for coming today. This is… this is a dream come true. Literally.”
I looked out at the faces watching me. Serenity beaming. Mehar dabbing at her eyes. The Kings and the Banks standing together like the family they’d become. Yusef near the back, still holding the hand of his security guard, watching me with something that might have been pride.