Page 223 of When a Soul Cries

She nodded.

“Yeah.”

My thumb moved slowly over her knuckles.

“Good.”

Her fingers tightened around mine.

And for once, I didn’t need anything more than that.

By the time we pulled into my driveway, Sol looked tired but happy.

I parked and killed the engine. For a moment, she sat there smiling faintly to herself before reaching for the door handle.

“Hold up.”

Her hand stopped.

She turned toward me, confusion pulling at her brows. “What?”

I got out without answering.

“Rome.”

I smiled to myself as I rounded the front of the car.

“Come here.”

Sol climbed out carefully, gathering the side of her dress so the slit wouldn’t catch beneath her heel.

“What are you doing?”

I kept walking toward the other side of the driveway.

Her heels clicked against the pavement behind me.

Then they stopped.

Completely.

Parked beneath the exterior lights was a brand-new black Mercedes-Benz GLA.

Freshly detailed, the deep black paint reflected the warm lights from the house like glass. A large red bow stretched across the hood, and the silver Mercedes emblem gleamed from the center of the grille. The windows were lightly tinted, giving the compact SUV a sleek look without making it feel too flashy.

I hadn’t wanted some giant truck she’d hate driving or some sports car that made no damn sense with a one-year-old.

The GLA was small enough for Sol to handle comfortably but still had enough room for everything she and Halo needed.

Safe. Reliable.

Still nice as hell.

Behind me, Sol’s heel scraped against the pavement.

“Rome.”

I turned.