15. The first bloom
THE FIRST BLOOM
S pring didn’t say it out loud, but she felt it the moment Preston locked Cameron’s door behind them.
She didn’t want the day to end.
The silence that followed was different now – not heavy like the apartment had been, but open. Like something unfinished was still hanging in the air between them.
“You hungry?” Preston asked, keys dangling from his fingers.
She nodded. “Starving. Emotionally and otherwise.”
He smiled. “There’s a spot around the corner. We can walk there.” She nodded.
They started their trek – no rush, just side by side, their shoulders brushing occasionally like muscle memory.
The restaurant was small and loud in a comforting way. Old-school booths with vinyl seats cracked just enough to tell stories. The kind of place that didn’t care who you were as long as you knew what you wanted.
“So,” she said, opening the menu and closing it immediately. “Mack.”
Preston sighed. “Straight to it.”
She smirked. “You know I don’t do filler.”
“He’s still around,” he admitted. “Been around longer than I’d like.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning he’s been attached to my life in ways I didn’t choose.”
She tilted her head. “That sounds… familiar.”
He laughed softly. “Your dad.”
She winced. “Touché.”
A waitress came to take their order, and the discussion paused. Once they were done, Preston continued. “So how is he? Your dad.”
She considered it. “Trying. Failing. Loving me anyway.”
“That tracks.”
She glanced at him. “What about you?”
“You mean the mighty Talia Cole?”
“Seemed to be the same go-getter I met coming up.”
“That’s generous, but yeah… she’s the same,” he said. “Different generation.”
They laughed. A beat passed they as got more comfortable. It felt like old times.
Then she raised an eyebrow. “My turn.”
He leaned back. “Oh, this feels dangerous.”
“Bianca Torres,” she said. “What happened there?”
He didn’t flinch, but something softened in his eyes.
“You mean the news about a domestic disturbance,” he said quickly.
“She called me over and had the camera setup for a reality show. I tried to leave, but the paparazzi was sitting in front of my car. I took his camera and threw it about ten feet. Next thing I know, I’m being detained and sued for emotional distress. ”
Spring whistled low. “Damn.”
“Then she’s on TV with him and they’re on Blind Love.”
Spring winced. “That’s somehow worse.”
“Right?” he huffed. Preston took a sip of his water before continuing. “Remember that summer you went to Beaumont for a month and we had to catch up? You wanted to work on your hard-hitting journalism questions.”
Spring sat up and smiled in the chair. “You want to play rapid fire?”
“Seems appropriate right?”
She smiled again and nodded. “Okay, go.”
They made a game of their catching up, something they used to do back in the day. The rules dictated no follow-ups, no clarifications, just truths dropped on the table.
Spring began. “Mack: red flag or nuisance?” she asked.
“Both,” he replied. “My turn. Dad: selfish or misunderstood?”
She exhaled. “Both. My turn. Hiatus?”
“Necessary,” he replied. He took a slow sip of water, like the word had weight. “I was burned out.”
Spring tilted her head slightly. “Where’d you go?”
He hesitated—just long enough for her to notice. It wasn’t her turn but he allowed it.
“Tanzania,” he said.
Spring blinked. “Tanzania?”
Preston nodded once. “Yeah. Needed somewhere far. Somewhere quiet. No noise. No expectations. Just space.”
She leaned forward now, curiosity sharpening her tone. “What made you pick Tanzania?”
He shrugged. “Didn’t want someplace popular. Didn’t want cameras or fans popping up outta nowhere. I wanted… quiet quiet.”
He paused, thinking back.
“Stayed outside the city most of the time,” he continued. “Serengeti side. Woke up to wind, birds, nothing else. No traffic. No phones ringing. No people asking for songs.”
He let out a quiet breath.
“Just sky.”
Spring studied him for a second, something thoughtful moving across her face.
“That’s… wild,” she said softly.
He raised an eyebrow. “Why so?”
She leaned back in her chair.
“I went there too,” she said.
That made him sit up slightly. “You serious?”
She nodded. “Years ago. Early in my documentary work. Small village project outside Arusha. Stories about migration, land, families trying to hold onto tradition.”
She paused, her voice shifting—softer now.
“My mother used to talk about Tanzania all the time,” she added. “Said if she ever went home again, she’d visit Kenya but stay in Tanzania. Said the land looked like it remembered people.”
“I remember… it’s kind of why I went. I was hoping to find my voice again.
What’s that thing your mom use to say? What’s true will return right?”
Spring stilled at that, surprised.
“You remember that?” she asked.
Preston gave a faint half-smile.
“Hard to forget,” he said.
She leaned back slowly, something shifting in her expression.
“My mom used to talk about Tanzania when she got homesick,” Spring said quietly. “Not like she wanted to leave where she was, or she wasn’t proud of her Kenyan heritage… more like she missed something she hadn’t seen in years.”
She smiled faintly at the memory.
“When I finally went,” she continued, “it was different. I didn’t feel homesick.”
She looked at him now.
“I felt at home.”
Preston nodded once, like that answer made perfect sense. He studied her face, listening.
“There were mornings I didn’t want to leave,” she admitted. “Thought about staying longer. Maybe even living there for a while.”
He nodded slowly.
“Yeah,” he said. “That’s what it does to you.”
Preston examined her for another second, then smirked faintly.
“Ok, my turn. How do you feel about the documentary you’re working on?”
“I hate it,” she said. “But I’m finding my way.”
They laughed again.
Spring realized her shoulders had dropped somewhere between the first sip of her drink and the second joke. The tension she carried like a second spine had eased. It felt like relief. Like remembering how to be human in a life that demanded performance.
She watched Preston across the table – older, steadier, still carrying weight he never talked about – and wondered when exactly he’d become someone she trusted this easily. Probably before either of them knew what trust would cost.
“I forgot how easy this is,” she said without thinking.
He met her gaze. “Yeah. Me too.”
The food arrived. The day stretched on. And for a little while, grief loosened its grip enough to let them laugh like nothing was chasing them at all.
Preston didn’t hesitate when the check came. He slid his card from the sleeve of his wallet like muscle memory, laid it flat on the table, still talking about some tour disaster in Chicago.
The server came back quicker than expected. “I’m so sorry,” she said quietly, leaning in just enough to keep it private. “It declined.”
Preston blinked once. “Oh,” he said, genuinely surprised. He reached back into his wallet without a flicker of embarrassment, pulled out another card, and handed it over. “Try this one.”
Spring watched him closely.
The second card went through.
“Appreciate you,” he said, easy, like nothing had happened.
The server smiled and walked away.
Spring tilted her head. “You good?”
“Yeah,” he said, shrugging. “Probably a fraud alert or something.”
She smiled. “Remember when we used to dine and dash?”
He laughed. “That was you country-ass Ellison's. Cameron was the mastermind, but you were right there with him.”
“And what about you, Big Bird? Remember that one time you tripped Brian when we were about to get caught?”
Preston shrugged. “He didn’t move quick enough. I was just fast.”
“Lies,” she said. “You tripped Brian on purpose.”
He smirked. “Collateral damage.”
They stood, gathered themselves, and stepped back into the afternoon.
No awkwardness. No tension. Just two people who knew each other before money meant anything.
They walked and talked until they got back to Cameron’s place. Neither of them were in a rush to end the day.
Finally Spring hit the unlock button on her rental and got inside the car to turn it on.
Nothing.
She tried again. Nothing.
She frowned. “Don’t do this.”
Preston leaned against his car, amused. “So, I guess this conversation isn’t over.”
She sighed and popped the hood like she knew what she was doing. She didn’t.
“Think it’s the battery?” he asked.
“You know damn well I don’t know what I’m looking at. I’m lucky I know how to open the hood.” she replied.
He chuckled. “I can give you a ride.”
She eyed him. “Didn’t your card just decline? I don’t ride with broke dudes.”
A hand flew to his chest in fake outrage. “Wow. After everything we’ve been through?”
She smiled, already walking toward his passenger side. “I said what I said.”
They pulled out of the lot, windows cracked, the city sliding past them.
“So,” he said casually. “You and Ralph? Living together again.”
“For now,” she replied. “We’re… figuring it out.”
“That sounds familiar.”
She glanced at him. “You good at that?”
“Figuring it out?” He shook his head. “No, I’m elite at avoiding. Top Tier.”
She laughed. “Still.”
As they rode his phone rang. He glanced at the screen and frowned.
“Everything okay?” she asked.
He answered. “Ma?”
His expression hardened, almost immediately. “…What do you mean you called them?”
Spring sat up straighter.
He exhaled slowly. “I’m not instigating anything. I went to lunch.” Pause. “No, I didn’t know you were upset like that.” Another pause. A sigh. “…I’m on my way.”
He hung up and stared straight ahead. “Preston?” she said gently.
“My mom,” he replied. “She had… a situation.”
“With who?”
“With everybody, but I’m sure it’s Mack,” he said flatly.
“And she called the police?”
“She does that when she wants control.”
Spring swallowed. “Do you want me to?—”
“Come with me?” he pleaded. “I know it’s probably the last?—”
She didn’t hesitate. “Let’s go.”