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Me: This bouquet is the size of a toddler.

Sweet ❤️: LOL.

My lips quirked into a smile.

Me: But real talk… thanks. They’re beautiful, Sweet Hart, and I’m lucky to be yours.

Sweet ❤️: Damn right. Sending you a wire in the morning. Also, I need you at Andre’s tomorrow night at 8:00.

I smirked and typed back.

Me: I feel like you’re buttering me up.

“There’s a party tonight,” Monica said, propping herself up on an elbow. “There’s supposed to be some famous DJ there.”

I snorted and left to put the roses in a vase. “Famous? I doubt that. At best, the DJ will be some aged-out frat boy who goes by the name DJ Steve.”

“Wow. You’re spicy tonight. If you must know, he goes by ArKane, with a K.”

That caught my attention from the kitchen. ArKane wasn’t a rookie to the scene. I rushed back. “How did they swing ArKane?”

Monica shrugged, still reclined in my bed. “Allegedly, it’s an early birthday present from Xander’s parents.”

“Of course, it is,” I drawled, returning to my vanity. “That boy’s parents print money for him, but it doesn’t matter. I can’t go.”

“Why can’t you go?”

“Because I’ll be at Hart’s place after the game.”

Monica remained silent for a few seconds. “Technically… you don’t have to be available to Hart after the game. You’re not under contract any longer,” she reminded me.

She was right. I wasn’t bound by our contract any longer and didn’t have to be available to Hart 24/7.

My phone vibrated across the vanity with an incoming call from Hart.

“Just the man I was thinking of,” I answered with a soft purr.

“I better be the only man you think of,” he said possessively.

“Maybe,” I teased.

“Don’t piss me off, Verydian.” I held back a laugh. “I won’t be home immediately after the game tonight. I’m going out with some of the guys.”

I flew out of my seat and started rifling through my closet with the phone pressed between my ear and shoulder.

“Oh, no, Sweet Hart. I’m gonna miss you,” I said, adding a pout for dramatic effect. I held up two outfits for Monica’s approval. She quickly dismissed them both.

“Are you still gonna be at my place?”

“I’ll probably kick it with Monica tonight, and then I’ll spend the night tomorrow since you’re leaving for a week.”

“It’s not a week. It’s four days.”

“A majority of the week,” I corrected.

“I’ll be back Friday.”

“That’s too long.”