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She pulls away and heads toward my father’s house where she picked me up this morning. I make sure to sleep at home at least twice a week to keep myself centered, though it’s not much help. My dreams are twice as memorable as they used to be.
“What you thinking about over there?”
My cheeks heat with guilt. “I’m so screwed.”
“It’s okay to be happy, Cecelia. You don’t have to apologize for smiling. I don’t know who taught you differently.”
I look over to where she sits, her hand on the wheel as she winks at me.
“I’m in love with them.”
She grins. “I know.”
“You think they do?”
“You haven’t told them?”
“No. You’re the first person I’ve told.”
“I’m glad.”
“I can’t talk to my mom, or my best friend, ya know? They won’t get it. But you do, and I’m grateful.”
“Trust me when I say that you’re better off keeping them in the dark about everything.”
“Trust me. I intend to.” I type out a lengthy text to my mother, promising her some one-on-one and toss my phone in my purse.
“Have you ever regretted
it?”
Layla and I never directly talk about the hood, it’s kind of an unspoken rule between us.
“Absolutely. I’ve lost my damned mind a thousand times. And when I thought Denny and I were going to break up, it was worse. But I’ve got a leg up on him. I’ve been in this longer, secured my place. But the worrying,” she shakes her head, “fuck, that can really weigh you down.”
“It’s dangerous to get so close, isn’t it?”
“Honey, breathing is dangerous these days.”
“True.”
“Remember, you can be as involved with them as you want to be. It’s all up to you. But I’ve got your back, babe. Especially with those two shits.” She grins. “Dominic seems more relaxed lately.”
“He’s in trouble at the moment.”
She turns to me, a hint of warning in her baby blues. “Keep your wits about you at all times, okay? You’re taking on a lot, and it’s hard enough dealing with one.”
I smile. “Thanks, I will. And thanks for the hair.” I run my hand through my newly trimmed mane and lowlights.
“Welcome. Let me know how tonight goes, and I’ll pick you up for Eddie’s next week. I could use a girls’ night.”
“It’s a date.”
She pulls away and I charge through the front door and up the stairs, changing sandals and ditching my phone before I gloss my lips. I’m halfway back down, building a mental to-do list when I see Roman standing at the bottom of the steps waiting for me, and I freeze. He’s in casual attire with a half-drained gin in hand.
I slow my descent as he considers me with glassy eyes. It’s not his first drink of the day. “Do you still live here?”
“On occasion,” I answer honestly.
