Page 25 of Pregnant By A Rich Demon 2

I was still falling for him.

And I didn’t know how to stop.

Raven’s new shop was in a strip mall off Magazine Street—not the fancy part, but not the rough part either. Somewhere in between. The kind of place where small businesses survived on hustle and word of mouth.

She pulled into a parking spot right in front and cut the engine.

“This is it,” she said, her voice suddenly nervous. “It ain’t much yet, but?—”

“Let me see it,” I said, already unbuckling my seatbelt.

We got out and walked to the door. The windows were covered with brown paper on the inside, blocking the view. A small sign taped to the glass read:COMING SOON - RAVEN’S CROWN.

Raven unlocked the door and pushed it open.

The smell hit me first—fresh paint and new carpet, that clean, hopeful smell of something just beginning.

The space was small but open. Exposed brick on one wall. High ceilings with industrial lighting fixtures already installed. Three styling chairs lined up against the brick wall, still wrapped in plastic. Two dryer stations in the corner. A shampoo bowl in the back near what looked like a small break room.

“Raven,” I breathed. “This is beautiful.”

She smiled—really smiled—and I saw something in her face I hadn’t seen in years.

Pride.

“You think so?” She walked over to the styling chairs and ran her hand along the back of one. “I got these from a salon that was closing in Metairie. Got a good deal. And the dryers—girl,I found them on Facebook Marketplace for half what they cost new.”

I walked around slowly, taking it all in.

The walls were painted a soft cream color. The floors were dark wood laminate that looked expensive but probably wasn’t. There was a small reception desk near the front door, and behind it, shelves waiting to be stocked with products.

“What are you going to put back here?” I asked, gesturing to the break room area.

“A mini fridge. Microwave. Maybe a little couch so people can wait comfortably.” She walked over and stood next to me. “I want this to feel like home, you know? Not just a place where you get your hair done. A place where you feelgood.”

I looked at her.

At the way her whole face had changed talking about this.

At the way her shoulders relaxed.

At the way she lookedalive.

“You’re going to kill it,” I said quietly.

She looked at me, eyes shining.

“You think so?”

“I know so.”

She pulled me into a hug—quick and tight—then pulled back and wiped her eyes.

“Okay, enough of that,” she said, laughing. “Let me show you the shampoo bowl situation because the plumbing was a wholething?—”

She launched into a story about the plumber and the water pressure and how she’d had to call him back three times before he got it right.

I listened, smiling, watching her light up.