Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 74383 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74383 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
“Wait, I don’t get it.” Zuri stared at the black background and white text I’d used, basically for the last three weeks. “Besides the Lives, which disappear after twenty-four hours, there’s only one photo of us. But you have that vague picture of me holding the sun near the Eiffel Tower and by the rail near the Île de la Cité. I looked too cute near the Pont Neuf. Why didn’t you …? Oh …” She realized. “You were respecting my privacy.”
“Yep.”
“But what does this mean? Mon cœur est à Paris …”
“Bébé, you just butchered it. Not sure what you said, but that there says, My heart’s in Paris with her.”
She scrolled over the days and read out, “Bourbon Street, St. Louis Cathedral. So, you said my heart is with you in all those places we’ve been?”
“Except for when we spent one day at Crescent Park with Darius. Then us at City Park,” I told her. “These are the places we visited in the past couple of weeks. I figured, you, my bébé, the world didn’t need to have you. That honor goes to me. So, they get what I’m willing to give them. Basically, they know my heart stays wherever you go, Zuri.”
“Oh, Montana. I’m not leaving.”
“Now, Big Country’s alive and well, ready for round two,” I said, tugging her back around toward me. I pressed a kiss to the hollow at her throat, and her pulse beat against my mouth like a hidden message meant just for me.
She looked up at me, her voice a whisper wrapped in laughter. “Just make me forget how cold it is, Montana.”
The next morning, I drank coffee in a home I hadn’t known would get so loud in the silence. Must be why Momma passed on this multi-million-dollar home. My Valentine’s Day plans were in full effect. Just one last piece. I knew who’d pull this off for me.
I made a call, smashed the Speaker button, and placed the phone on the counter.
“I said no already,” Madison answered, tone salty.
“Chill, I got all the vases I need. You get your invitation to my Mardi Gras Valentine’s Ball?”
“Yep.”
“You ain’t respond.”
“Don’t want to see Judge Baby-No, dang!”
“Do me a solid, Maddy.”
“You mean, Mad. Your girl is totes adorbs by the way.”
“Don’t start.”
“I’m not. I’ve taken her under my wing. Teaching her how to navigate. Anyway, I can tell she got more brains than all the women you’ve screwed. Hell, so many brains she probably really assumed y’all’s crap talk was normal. Calling me Mad.”
I took a sip of coffee. “Ain’t nobody talk about you, sis. We just … thought the title stuck. You made it stick.”
Her voice became a taunting song. “Sure did.” Mad put Zuri’s ass to shame when she put on a front.
“Madison. I need you to make me one glass mask. Just one.”
“A glass mask? Montana, that’s ridiculous! It will be too heavy. If you plan to wear it.”
“Zuri’s wearing it.” I pinched the bridge of my nose, then snapped my fingers. “Make a Venetian half mask.”
“What color?” She sighed. “This must be some party.”
“Gold. Come, Maddy. Remind everyone of the girl who gave my brotha all his swag. How much you want for the mask?”
“A lot!”
“A lot works. Just add the fam-bam discount at the end.” I tapped the Off button and stared at a text.
Ezekiel. Bruh? Right now? Since nobody I knew spoke to him, he definitely didn’t find out about my party.
Or did he?
Damn, though, he had me sounding like a little kid handing out invites from Party City back in the day. Like, not you, to the dork in fifth grade.
I left him on read. Set a reminder on my iPhone for one month out.
Respond to old head about meeting at Li’l Dizzy’s.
zuri
. . .
If my life had turned into a social media challenge, it was the ice bucket challenge. I didn’t sign up for this mess! Nor did I expect Friday the Thirteenth to attack before I awoke. After running from the cartel in my dreams, I slammed into a seated position, body slick to the touch from cold sweats. And February 13th felt like October 31st, drenched, and my body feeling so heavy, like I was wearing Queen Charlotte’s wigs from Bridgerton. All of them. And both Diana Rosses.
I flopped over onto my back in the king-size bed and groaned. Wait … Was I part of the problem? I questioned all those times I blamed Darius for the waterbed. Aw, my little champ. I needed to apologize. Maybe I’d do a sleep journal for a couple of weeks to confirm.
After lifting enough body parts to confidently get me out of this sweat bucket of a bed, I stared down at the mess.
The temptation to sneak into Montana’s Amazon account and Prime his momma another mattress was great. I’d practically Saran Wrapped the other guest room mattress after Darius’s accident—before he got a new car-shaped bed. I told myself to snatch the sheets off. But I continued to glare at the problem. If Darius looked suspect trying to smuggle Gushers into my purse weeks ago, I would look even worse now. Had to get these sheets in the washer without Virginia wondering if I was going into perimenopause. Maybe she’d change her mind about her son and me.