Page 48 of When a Soul Cries

I looked toward my car and then back at him. Halo was okay. Zari was there. One hour. Just one.

“Forty-five minutes.”

Rome’s head turned back toward me, and the victorious smile that spread across his face made me immediately regret saying yes. “Deal.”

“And this ain’t no date.”

“Of course not.” His face was entirely too serious for me to believe him.

I narrowed my eyes. “Why you say it like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like you don’t believe me.”

He opened his car door, glancing over the roof at me with that same irritating smirk. “I ain’t say nothing.”

“You irritating.”

“And you still going.”

I stared at him for a second, then shook my head and walked toward my car. I had no business going anywhere with this man. Absolutely none.

But for the first time all day, I wasn’t thinking about the eviction notice.

And maybe that was exactly why I got in my car and followed him anyway.

---

The restaurant was barely five minutes away, which was the only reason I didn’t change my mind halfway there and turn my ass around. It wasn’t anything fancy, just a little spot tucked into a shopping center with dim lights, music playing low enough that you could actually have a conversation, and enough people inside that I didn’t feel like I was somewhere ducked off with a man I’d met a few hours ago.

Perfect.

I followed Rome inside, keeping a little distance between us as the hostess led us toward a booth. He stepped aside to let me slide in first, and I gave him a suspicious look.

“What?” he asked, the corner of his mouth lifting.

“Nothing.”

“Nah. What was that face?”

I settled into the booth and put my purse beside me. “I’m just surprised you got manners.”

Rome stopped halfway into the seat across from me and stared at me. I bit my lip to keep from smiling.

He slowly sat down. “You been disrespecting me since I met you.”

“And yet here you are.”

His eyes narrowed slightly before that smile came back. “And yet here I am.”

The waitress came over, handed us menus, and took our drink orders. The second she walked away, I reached for my phone.

No missed calls. No texts.

I opened Zari’s messages anyway.

Nothing.