Page 248 of The Wright Man

Home.

Next, we made our way to the private room Tina had reserved at the Black-owned salon, Boujee Claws & Co., it smelled like lavender cuticle oil, Prosecco, and generational healing.

Gold-accented walls, plush pink chairs, and a playlist full of auntie anthems wrapped me in the kind of comfort I didn't know I'd needed. There were trays of fresh fruit, pastries, and bottles of bubbly waiting.

Ms. Reese was already talking to her nail tech like they were long-lost sorority sisters. "Now don't be afraid to press that drill in, baby," she said, sipping her mimosa and swinging one leg like she was on a porch swing.

Tina twirled dramatically in her chair before announcing, "Everyone's getting the Freedom Set." She held up a sample nail design, sunflower decals on each finger and "FREEDOM" across the middle ones.

I cackled, sliding into my seat as Kia whispered, "I might get 'Amen' on my ring finger just to cover all bases."

The room broke into laughter.

As our nails were filed, buffed, and bedazzled into submission, the energy swirled between us like electricity. It was buzzy, girly, and full of love—the kind of energy that only happens when nobody's pretending to be okay because they already know they're safe.

"You gonna tell us about your date now or do we have to waterboard you with cuticle oil?" Bella teased, eyeing me over her acrylics.

"Oh yeah, spill," Alicia added, pausing mid-swipe on her phone. "You had that 'freshly folded' look when you walked out today."

I blushed so hard I swear my nail tech had to adjust the lamp.

"It was... perfect," I admitted, already grinning. I told them about the art museum, the special sunflower exhibit and the gorgeous painting he bought me. The rooftop dinner where we talked about our future. Our waterfront walk where he bought me overpriced dessert just because I looked at it too long.

Kia fanned herself dramatically. "Lord, I see what you've done for others..."

Alicia leaned in with wide eyes. "And then?"

"Then..." I tried to fight the grin. Failed. "Then he kissed me goodnight, we said our prayers, and we went to sleep."

I smiled real pretty as I lied through my teeth. Like I didn't let him tie me up and make me come in five different languages.

"Uh-huh, sure." Kia said, smirking. "I bet that kitty was purring and you were scratching that man's back up like a cat with an IUD."

"Okay!" I covered my face with my free hand. "Can y'all not while my hand is still wet?"

Too late. The entire room broke into a chorus of ridiculously high pitched voices, supposed imitations of me, lost in the throes.

"Maleeeek, let me suck that thang from the back!"

"Lemme do a split on that dick, Maleek!"

"Oh Maleek, eat ice cream off my ass with no spoon!"

Tina dropped her voice to a ridiculous bass and moaned, "Yeahhh Angel, imma give you this dick with my combat boots on."

Everyone screamed. I snorted so hard I almost ruined my topcoat. My nail tech paused and gave me a look, but I was too far gone in laughter to care.

"Let's just say... I slept good. Real good."

By the time we were drying under the UV lights, the mimosas had multiplied and Kia had already stolen at least 3 mini champagne bottles. "Don't judge me," she said, sliding them into her bag. "This place too nice not to take a souvenir."

Tina pulled out a mini microphone—the kind people use for TikToks—and held it up like a relic. "Ladies. While we let these masterpieces dry, I bring you... The Confessions Mic."

Groans and laughter rippled through the room.

"One by one," Tina declared, "you must speak your truth. The moment you knew Gavin was full of shit."

She handed the mic to Bella first. "Start us off, baby girl."