Page 111 of The Sweetest Return

“What time?” I asked.

“Meet me downstairs at eleven-thirty.”

“You sound very sure I’m going.”

“You want to?”

No assumption.

Just the question.

I smiled against the phone. “I do.”

“Then come with me.”

The way he said it did something to me. An invitation with heat in it. A hand extended. A space opened beside him, waiting on me to decide whether I was brave enough to step into it.

“People are going to look at us,” I said.

“They probably will.”

“And take pictures.”

“Maybe.”

“I don’t want one football game turning into some story about us before we even know what this is.”

“I don’t either.”

His answer came immediately, and that quieted the old fear before it could get much farther.

“I’m not asking you to announce anything,” he continued. “I want to go to the game with you. Sit beside you. Spend the day with you. That’s it.”

That sounded almost simple.

Maybe it could be.

And maybe part of what I needed to learn this time was that other people noticing my life did not mean they got to decide what happened inside it.

“I’ll go.”

“With me?”

I smiled. “Yes, Andre. With you.”

“Good.”

That single word moved through me warm and low.

“You are entirely too pleased.”

“You going to the game with me after letting me make you cum before breakfast. Yeah, Mani. I’m pleased.”

My mouth fell open. There was no way he could see my face, but somehow I still felt caught.

“You know what⁠—”

His laugh came through the phone, low and satisfied, but still not cruel. Dre could be arrogant. Dre could tease. Dre could absolutely get on my nerves before nine in the morning. But he had not turned my softness into something to hold over me. He sounded happy. Happy that I wanted him. Happy that I was going with him. Happy that, for once, neither of us had run from the obvious.