43. Goin out tonight
GOIN OUT TONIGHT
T he next morning, Preston was already sweating before the sun fully decided what kind of day it wanted to be.
Two miles on the treadmill. No music at first, just breath, rhythm, discipline. The kind of quiet that let thoughts line up instead of crowding each other. By the time he hit the cool-down, something had clicked loose in his chest. That familiar itch. The good one.
He showered fast, dressed faster, and walked over to the studio while the city still felt half-asleep. Inside, the lights were off. He didn’t turn them on.
He went straight to the piano.
Nothing formal, just mindless playing. Fingers finding shapes before his mind could name them. A progression surfaced, tender but sure. He played it once, then again. Let it breathe. Let it say what he hadn’t yet.
When he finished, the silence felt full.
Then—
Applause.
He jumped. “What in the fu?—”
Spring stood near the doorway, coffee in hand. Rae beside her, camera already up, grinning like she’d caught something rare.
“How long have y’all been here?” he asked, hand still hovering over the keys.
Spring checked her watch. “Five on the dot.”
Rae added, “We’re not catching heat again for being late.”
He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Damn. That’s… fair.”
Spring stepped closer, already slipping into work. Her voice shifted – gentler, precise. “What was that you were just playing?”
He shrugged. “Nothing yet.”
“You don’t do ‘nothing’,” she said, but it wasn’t a challenge. It was observation.
Rae circled quietly, lens catching the piano, his hands, the way the morning light cut through the dust.
Spring leaned against the edge of the piano. “Is this how it starts now?” she asked. “Silence first?”
Preston nodded. “I gotta hear myself think before I hear the world.”
She nodded back, then asked, “And what about the distractions, the noise?”
He paused. “Real talk? Once I have a muse, I can’t hear anything else.”
That landed heavier than he meant it to.
Spring tried another angle. “This… calm, did it come after Cameron died, or was it already there?”
He looked her in the eyes. “It came after you.” The words weren’t defensive. Just true.
She held his gaze, then glanced at Rae. This was going to be harder than it looked. She pressed on anyway. “Do you feel pressure when you sit down like this? Or freedom?”
“Both,” he said. “Pressure to be honest. Freedom to finally do it.”
Rae’s camera whirred softly.
Spring asked two more questions – about routine, about fear, about whether mornings were safer than nights – but she could feel herself drifting. Not away from the work, but toward him.
She stepped back. “Okay. Pause.”
Rae lowered the camera, surprised. “You good?”
Spring exhaled. “Yeah. I just need a minute.”
Preston stood, watching her with a softness that made it worse.
She smiled, professional but thin. “We’ll pick it back up in ten.”
As she walked toward the hallway, she caught Rae’s eye. This wasn’t just proximity. This was history sitting in the frame, asking to be acknowledged.
And Spring knew, before the day even really began, that if she didn’t learn how to hold both, the story would swallow her whole.
Preston didn’t even pretend to behave once the cameras were rolling again.
Spring clocked it five minutes in: his posture angled toward her instead of the lens, that lazy half-smile he used when he was deciding whether to charm or disarm. He answered questions, sure, but every response curved back to her like a hook.
“So,” she said, checking her notes, professional voice firmly on. “This comeback – what’s different this time?”
He leaned back in the chair, eyes never leaving hers. “You always ask questions like you already know the answer.”
Rae’s camera dipped a fraction. She glanced between them, eyebrow lifting.
Spring ignored her. “Answer the question, Preston.”
“What’s different,” he said slowly, “is that I’m not pretending I have time.”
She paused. “Meaning?”
He shrugged. “Cameron dying, the money almost disappearing, losing my voice for a while – like really losing it. All that small, careful living? That shit feels fake now.”
Rae zoomed in, quiet but alert.
“I spent years acting like wanting more was dangerous,” Preston continued. “Like if I didn’t reach too hard, nothing could be taken from me. Turns out you can lose everything anyway.”
Spring softened despite herself. “And that changed how you move?”
“It changed how honest I am,” he said. Then, quieter: “With myself. With people I care about.” His eyes flicked to her mouth just for a second. Rae definitely caught that.
Spring cleared her throat. “Okay. That’s… usable.” She glanced at Rae. “Cut that last part.”
Rae didn’t move. “Girl?—”
“Rae,” Spring warned.
She sighed dramatically and lowered the camera. “Fine. But I saw it.”
Preston grinned. “I see why you two click – you don’t miss anything.”
Spring shot him a look. “Don’t encourage her. And look, we said we were going to keep this professional, and you’re making this hard.”
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees now. “You keep trying to separate it. The work. Us. Like they don’t live in the same body.”
“They don’t,” she said quickly. “They can’t.”
He tilted his head. “I’m not asking to mess up the work. I’m asking to stop pretending we don’t exist,” he said. “At least when the cameras are off.”
Spring exhaled, rubbed her temple. “Okay. Okay. We can—” she searched for the right word, “—have a real conversation. About us.”
Preston didn’t interrupt.
“But,” she continued, lifting a finger, “we finish the work first. No flirting during interviews.”
He held up his hands in surrender. “I promise.”
Rae snorted. “That’s a lie.”
Preston didn’t even deny it.
They continued the session after that. Fewer detours. Better answers. When it finally ended, Rae started packing up, still watching them like a referee who didn’t trust either player.
Preston stood, stretching. “So.”
Spring didn’t look up from her notes. “So.”
“When we’re done for the day,” he said, voice casual but eyes intent, “have dinner with me.”
She finally met his gaze. “No cameras.”
“No work talk,” he added.
“Just Preston,” she said carefully, “and Spring.”
He smiled, slow, sure. “Exactly.”
She considered it for a beat longer than necessary. Then: “Okay.”
Rae gasped. “Oh, this is happening.”
Spring grabbed her bag. “You’re off the clock.”
Rae laughed. “Girl, I’ve never been more on it.”
Preston watched Spring walk ahead of him, something settled in his chest – like he’d made a decision and the world finally agreed to keep up. For the first time in a long time, he wasn’t playing it small.
And tonight, at least, neither was she.
The camera kept rolling: Preston laughing off-camera, his voice soft when he forgot he was being filmed, the way his shoulders dropped when he talked about music instead of legacy.
Spring leaned back on the couch, remote in hand. “We actually got some good stuff,” she said, half to herself. “Like… real stuff.”
Rae didn’t answer right away. Spring felt it before she heard it – the silence that meant Rae was choosing her words.
“We gonna talk about this?” Rae finally asked.
Spring frowned. “Talk about what?”
Rae turned, one eyebrow already raised. “Girl. You.”
Spring scoffed. “Me? I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not,” Rae said calmly. “You’re in love with him.”
Spring laughed, sharp and defensive. “What… I mean – is it bad?”
Rae didn’t laugh back. “Spring. I’ve known you forever. I’ve never seen you this discombobulated in my life.”
Spring rolled her eyes. “Please.”
“You’ve made three jokes in the last ten minutes about butterflies in your stomach,” Rae continued. “You don’t joke when you’re nervous. You get quiet. You joke when you’re scared.”
Spring exhaled and looked back at the screen, Preston’s face frozen mid-smile. “I’ve been wrong before,” she said, softer now. “With Julian.”
Rae waited.
“The divorce didn’t even hurt like it should’ve,” Spring admitted.
“Because I was always busy. Always guarded. I never really let him all the way in.” She sighed hard.
“Preston was my world. When we broke up, it tore me to shreds. I had to rebuild myself from scratch.” Her voice cracked, just a little.
“When we first… reconnected, I just felt it instinctively, but you see what it’s like being in his orbit.
I don’t know if I can survive letting my guard down like that again. ”
Rae’s tone was gentle. “Spring…”
“I’m serious,” she said. “I’m afraid of who I am when I love him. Of how much I give. Because I know I’m always going to have to share him with the world.”
Rae shifted closer. “Baby, you already gave him everything.”
Spring shook her head. “No, I didn’t.”
“Yes, you did,” Rae pressed. “You just don’t know it.” Spring looked at her. “When his momma was singing ‘Kiss in the Springtime’, I watched you. You grabbed his pinky like it was muscle memory.”
Spring’s breath caught in her throat.
“You smile brighter when he’s in the room,” Rae continued.
“You’re silly. You’re soft. You’re funny in that way Julian never earned from you.
” She paused. “Seeing him with you makes me feel like I’m meeting the real you – the first you, for the very first time.
And from what I can tell, you give Preston everything freely because that’s all you’ve ever known with him. ”
Spring’s eyes filled despite herself.
Rae smirked through the tenderness. “I’m just saying… don’t fight it.”
Spring let out a shaky laugh. “Or what?”
“Or I will absolutely take your man,” Rae said, deadpan. “And don’t think I won’t.”
Spring laughed, real this time, and leans into her. They hugged longer than necessary.
Then—
Ding dong.
They pulled apart and Rae grinned. “See? The universe heard me.”
Spring wiped her face, heart already speeding up. “If that’s Preston, I swear?—”
She moved toward the door as the bell rang again.
The door opened to a courier holding a slim garment box and a shoebox stacked neatly on top. “Spring Greene?”
She nodded. “That’s me.”
He handed her the package. “Signature, please.”
Rae was already leaning over her shoulder. “If this is a subpoena, I don’t know her.”
Spring signed for the package, closed the door, and just stood there staring at the boxes.
“There’s no return address,” Rae searched. “Which means it’s either romantic or unhinged.”
Spring lifted the lid.
Red silk. Deep, rich, dangerous red.
She inhaled sharply.
Rae let out a slow whistle. “Oh. He trying to end lives.”
Spring pulled out the note tucked into the folds of the dress.
See you tonight.
—P
That was it.
“And heels,” Rae gasped, opening the shoebox. “Matching. He’s sick.”
Spring laughed nervously. “This doesn’t mean anything.”
Rae looked at her, at the dress, then back to her. “Girl, that dress means everything .”
“I can’t just—” Spring started. “What if I’m reading this wrong?”
Rae crossed her arms. “Preston literally said on camera that life is short and mortals overthink joy.”
Spring groaned. “Please don’t quote him like he’s a philosopher.”
“He is ,” Rae said. “A fine one. With money.”
Spring hesitated, holding the dress like it might bite her. “I don’t know if I should even try it on.”
Rae gasped again. “Bitch, you are not about to waste a man’s effort like this.”
“Rae—”
“Spring,” she cut in. “Life is short. We’re mortals. And if this man bought you a red dress and matching heels, the least you can do is put it on and see who you still are inside it.”
Spring exhaled. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”
Rae grins. “And I don’t understand why you’re not enjoying it enough, Nairobi – he’s smart, handsome, one of the finest men on the planet. And he is completely in love with you. Now, I’m not saying you’re not that bitch, cause you are, but how much more of a good man do you think you’re gonna get?”
“And who says I want or am looking for a man?”
“You are,” Rae insisted. “You’re the one saying it. In how you look at him, the way you make sure you dress like you’re trying not to care, but you know you do, because you want him to notice, the way you have gotten so unfocused at working you had to bring me?—”
“Okay, I get it. I mean… he’s just in my system. And I can’t shake it?—”
“There you go, thinking again. You like him, don’t shake it. Put on that damn dress and those high heels, and when you get to where you’re going, give that man some Gawk-Gawk 3000 in the parking lot and quit playing with me.”
Spring shook her head, laughing despite herself, and headed toward the bedroom.
Rae shoved the dress into her hands and said, “You deserve good things. And Preston is good for you, simple as that.”
She hugged her best friend and took the dress into the bathroom.
Moments later, she steps back out.
The dress fits like a memory, like it was chosen with her in mind. The red caught the light, warm against her skin.
Rae’s mouth fell open. “…Oh,” she said in awe. “Yeah. He in trouble.”
Spring looked at herself in the mirror, barely recognizing the softness in her own eyes. “I look like I’m about to ruin my own life,” she said.
Rae nodded solemnly. “Or save it. Hard to tell with red dresses.”
Spring swallowed. “What if I let myself want this and it disappears?”
Rae stepped closer. “Then you loved bravely. And that is living.” Then she smirked again. “Also, if you fumble, I will circle back. Respectfully.”
Spring laughed, shaking her head.
“Go ahead,” Rae added. “Be scared. Just don’t be small.”
Spring looks at the note again. See you tonight.
And for the first time in a long time, she didn’t immediately armor up.
She just let herself feel her emotions.