Page 71 of The Wright Man

I turned on my heel and led him to my chair, sunflowers in one hand, heart in the other.

As I sat the flowers down, Maleek sat slowly, like he understood what that chair meant.

Dana's Chair had been occupied by hundreds of clients over the years—mamas, daughters, aunties, newlyweds, baby girls before their first-day-of-school photos. But this? This felt different. This wasn't a client.

This was Maleek. Dana's flesh and blood.

I draped the cape over his shoulders, smoothing it down his chest, trying not to notice how solid he felt underneath it. Broad, warm, real.

Masculine and mine... But not mine.

My fingers brushed his neck, light as a breath, and I felt the goosebumps rise on both our arms.

His eyes met mine in the mirror, already dark with something I didn't have the strength to name.

"Head back," I said, throat tight.

He leaned back without protest, neck exposed. Vulnerable. Trusting. And something about that simple motion made my stomach flutter.

I filled a spray bottle and misted his curls. The scent of coconut, shea butter, and whatever he showered with—spicy and clean, like cardamom and smoke—wrapped around me and stayed.

I combed my fingers through his hair, slow and deliberate, letting the moment stretch. Letting myself have it.

The hum of the salon faded. It was just us.

"So," I started, so low that only he could hear, "How'd you find the place anyway?"

He cracked one eye open and looked up at me. Smirked. "How you think?"

"Tina." we said in unison. Of course her messy ass told him where to find me.

We settled into a peaceful silence, like we used to, as I gently detangled his curls with my fingers. My hands glided through his scalp off of muscle memory.

His voice was gentle, his eyes closed again, when he spoke next.

"So... Dana's Chair, huh?"

I smiled. "That's where I learned," I said quietly. "It was only right."

He didn't open his eyes. "She'd be so damn proud of you."

I had to blink. Twice. "I hope so."

With his hair misted and detangled, I sat him up so I could start twisting. His eyes opened and found me again almost immediately. I suppressed a shiver.

He watched me a moment longer, then looked back at himself in the mirror. "You still watching anime with subtitles?"

"Like a real one. Don't insult me."

He grinned. "Just making sure you haven't gotten lazy without me."

"I never get lazy. I just got tired of explaining plot lines to Gavin."

"Man couldn't even follow Yu Yu Hakusho?" he scoffed.

I snorted. "Couldn't even pronounce it."

He laughed again—deep, rich, and quiet—and I wanted to bottle the sound and wear it like perfume.