Page 76 of The Wright Man

"That set went viral. Tee posted it and by the next morning, I had DMs from influencers, local celebs, even a few traveling stylists. My books filled up overnight. That one braid set was like... the launch pad."

She lit up at the memory, hands still moving, voice finding a gear I hadn't heard in years — the one she used when she was talking about something that was completely, undeniably hers.

"I did nothing but eat, sleep, and braid hair for about three months after that, and still couldn't handle all the business on my own. Signed the lease on the space on month four. Been booked and blessed ever since."

She reminded me so much of Mama it hurt. The way she took genuine joy in helping women rise from the ashes, prettier and happier than before.

I grinned, pride curling in my chest. "I'm proud of you Ang. For real."

She smiled at that, eyes dropping for a second before she looked back up. "Thank you."

We sat in a beat of silence, the kind that didn't need filling. The kind that felt like home.

Then I leaned forward a little, propping my elbows on the table. "But Tina still messing with Rico, huh?"

Angelica rolled her eyes. "Unfortunately."

"Can't believe she's still dealing with that nigga. He's like a damn roach."

She cackled. "I'm saying! It's gotta be the sex, 'cause he literally can't offer her shit else. He must be giving her that broke nigga dick."

I slapped my napkin down and groaned. "Come on, Angel. I just got my appetite back. Don't give me that mental image."

She laughed harder, bright and full-bodied.

She shook her head, still smiling. "Tina's gonna Tina. But I love her. She comes by the shop to help out sometimes. And by help out, I mean eat all my snacks and talk shit."

"Sounds about right."

"Bella helps out too when she's home from college. She's calmed down a lot, but she's still my little pain in the ass."

I raised an eyebrow. "Y'all still doing your Sister Sunday thing?"

Angelica nodded, eyes going soft. "Faithfully. Even if it's just over FaceTime. It's the one thing we never let slide."

I didn't say it, but I was glad. That kind of bond—the way they held each other down no matter what—was rare. Sacred. Just like what she had with her dad.

"Still close with Cap?"

She nodded, taking a sip of her tea. "I'm the only one still in town full-time, so I try to see him at least once a week. Sometimes I drag him out to get food or walk around the farmer's market. Mostly though, I just go over and hang out at the house."

I hummed, trying not to think about how that meant she'd be across the street from me at least once a week now. We didn't mention Gavin. We didn't have to. The silence spoke for itself.

The waitress returned with our food, breaking the tension like a soft gust of wind. We thanked her, and without a word, swapped plates—burger for me, sandwich and fruit cup for her.

We ate in comfortable silence for a few minutes, the kind where chewing didn't feel like an interruption. Just part of the rhythm.

When she finally spoke again, she wiped her mouth delicately and leaned forward.

"That's all that's been going on for me," she said casually.

I looked at her, really looked at her.

Nah. That wasn't all. Not by a long shot. But I didn't press. I was too damn grateful for this moment. For her voice, her laugh, her eyes on mine like I hadn't disappeared for years.

"What about you, Leek?" she asked, picking at the fruit cup with her fork. "What do you have going on now that you're home?"

I wiped my mouth with the corner of my napkin, leaned back in the chair, and looked out across the patio for a second before answering. The sunlight caught the edge of her braids again—flashes of gold and copper glinting like they were lit from the inside—and I had to look away before I said something dumb.