Page 65 of A King’s Obsession

I smoothed the napkin in my lap. For a moment, I almost told him it wasn’t anything worth talking about. But he’d been honest with me, and I was tired of acting like leaving home hadn’t hurt.

“My mama’s been on drugs most of my life,” I began, keeping my eyes on the table. “I was working, giving her money for bills, and she was spending it on getting high. We owed twenty-one hundred on the rent. The lights were about to get cut off.” I swallowed, feeling that familiar tightness creep into my throat. “I thought I was keeping us afloat. I didn’t even know how far behind we were.”

The screen lit up again.

Montae.

I declined it, my stomach tightening. “And this nigga I was dealing with left me stranded at work. Told me he was coming, then wouldn’t answer his phone.”

Ezra glanced at the name before looking back at me, his expression growing more serious.

“When I finally got home, I found out why,” I continued, forcing the words out. “He was fucking my mama.”

Saying it still embarrassed me. I knew it shouldn’t, but I looked down anyway, blinking hard.

“We’d never even had sex. And she knew I was messing with him.” My voice cracked as I struggled to keep myself together. “I was trying to keep a roof over our heads, and she—”

“Jru,” Ezra interrupted softly, his voice cutting through the emotion before I could force another word out.

He moved his chair beside mine and took my hand. I tried to finish, but he shook his head gently.

“You ain’t gotta keep going,” he told me, his thumb brushing across my knuckles.

A tear slipped down my cheek. He wiped it away with his thumb, his face close enough that I couldn’t hide mine.

“I got you now,” he said, looking directly into my eyes.

I pressed my lips together, but another tear fell. I’d been holding myself up for so long that hearing somebody say that almost made me cry harder.

“I’m not trying to ruin dinner,” I whispered, embarrassed by how quickly my emotions had gotten away from me.

“You’re not ruining shit.” His hand tightened around mine. “Look at me.”

I did.

“What they did ain’t on you,” he continued, his expression steady. “And you don’t have to sit here explaining it till it hurts all over again.”

My phone buzzed against the table. I reached for it and powered it off, then let him draw my hand back into his.

“I called Ashlynn that night,” I said, my voice quieter now. “I just knew I couldn’t stay.”

He nodded, staying beside me while I got my breathing together. No rushing me to smile. No asking for details I didn’t want to give.

“Now you see why I get funny about my money?” I asked, looking down at our joined hands.

“Yeah, baby. I do,” he answered, giving my hand another reassuring squeeze.

He moved my water closer, and I took a drink. We ate a little more, the conversation returning slowly. By the time he teased me about rearranging a bar we hadn’t opened yet, I could laugh without forcing it.

I asked about his businesses, about why he kept building when he already had so much.

“I’m forty-one,” he said, settling back into his chair. “I know how to make money. I don’t want that to be the only thing I know how to do.”

I set my fork down, studying him with renewed curiosity. “What else do you want?”

“Something solid. Somebody I want to come home to.” He held my gaze, his expression more serious than before. “A kid one day. Not tomorrow. But eventually. Somebody to leave all this to.”

There was no joke in his voice now. I felt myself listening differently, hearing something beyond the man who could reserve an entire restaurant without blinking.