Iwantedto forget.
Iwantedto get fucked.
Iwantedpeace.Andfun.Andlaughter.Andpositive energy.
The last thing Iwantedwas to drop my private list in a public bar. The absolute worst thing that could’ve happened did. Spencer Cross just happened to find it. Any doubt I had that he read the entire list was miniscule, because he absolutely read that shit. Just the thought … I swallowed as a wave of nausea passed over me. I flattened a hand on my stomach.
I’m gonna be sick.
“Laiya?”
Tonight wasn’t supposed to go like this. I’d done a good job of compartmentalizing my life—and the people in it. Spence was a good person. Dependable. Loyal. Honest. Kind. He was so much more, but mostly, he was respectful. He’d never inserted himself in my business. Until now.Is that what this is, though?
Letting out a slow breath, I finally answered, “Yes?”
“Are you okay?”
My vision blurred as tears threatened to fall. I closed my eyes, willing myself to pull it together. Then, I felt it. Soft Kleenex against my skin, warm fingers brushing my cheek as he wiped my face.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
He wrapped his arms around my waist. “Come on. Let’s get you out of here.”
It felt like déjà vu because wehadbeen here before. The first time I’d met him, he’d offered me comfort and his bologna sandwich. And so many times after that. All the way up until I married Rod. Now, he was leading me away from the fray so that I wouldn’t lose all my damn cool points in the middle of the Smoke and Burn Cigar Lounge.
“Your food,” I said lamely as I followed him up the staircase in the back of the restaurant. “You didn’t finish your mac and cheese.”
“Don’t worry about me.”
We stopped in front of a door. He unlocked it and gently pulled me inside. Once he flipped the light switch, I realized we were in an apartment.
“Is this …”
“The plan was to turn this into a short-term rental, but the fellas decided to keep it empty for now.” He walked to thefridge and pulled out two bottles of water and a fifth of tequila. “Works out because sometimes they stay here after a long night.”
“And why do you have a key?”
“Ryker offered it to me.”
Something told me there was more to the story, and I decided to toss out my suspicion. “Because you helped him get the building?”
He chuckled. “Silent partner.”
“Not surprised.” I wasn’t shocked he didn’t lead with that either. He rarely boasted about his success.
Spence had emerged as a leader in our neighborhood right around his freshman year in high school. He’d complained about the lack of investment in the Black community from city and township officials and swore he would make changes once he had the resources. When Ryan ran for mayor, I’d assumed Spence would follow in his footsteps eventually.
Except for a minor stint in city council, Spence had chosen to stay away from politics, though. Instead, he’d received his undergraduate degree in finance and worked in commercial banking before he left his corporate job and created Cross Investments. He’d amassed an impressive real estate portfolio before he segued into hospitality. But he’d also taught classes on entrepreneurship and had even assisted in the development of several small businesses in the area.
I scanned the living room. It was nice, really. Clean. Grey walls, wood floors, a small sectional in the corner, and a little table near the kitchen. Taking a seat, I watched him grab two shot glasses from the cabinet.
“It’s comfortable in here. Quiet, considering there’s a whole party downstairs.”
He winked. “The magic of good insulation.”
After he took a seat next to me, he handed me a bottle of water and set the liquor and the shot glasses on a table infront of the couch. We didn’t speak for a moment, and I suspected he was waiting on me to set the tone.
I pointed to the tequila. “You know I don’t drink that stuff.”
