Page 5 of The Sweetest Return
Manhattan.
A door that belonged completely to me.
The offer had come through that afternoon, forwarded by my mother’s friend who knew someone in recruiting and had promised to pass my name along months earlier. I had almost forgotten the connection had been made until the email landed in my inbox with Tiffany & Co. in the sender line and my whole future sitting beneath it.
I read it three times.
Then I cried in the bathroom of the student center like a fool.
Dre’s fingers drifted along my spine.
“You staying?”
The question was sleepy and easy. He only meant tonight.
My eyes filled anyway.
One tear landed on his chest.
His hand stilled.
“Mani?”
I turned my face away.
“Nothing.”
He shifted beneath me and slid two fingers beneath my chin.
“That ain’t nothing.”
“I’m okay.”
“You crying on me.”
“I know.”
“Why?”
I tried to swallow it and couldn’t.
Another tear came, and Dre sat up, bringing me with him until I moved away and pulled the sheet over my chest.
“Imani.”
“I got the offer.”
His brows pulled together. “What offer?”
“The internship.”
He waited.
“The Tiffany one. In Manhattan.”
His face changed slowly.
“You got it?”
