She spun in alarm when the front door was pulled open and her vision blurred when she saw him. Ahmeek Harris. Skin like onyx. Waves on swim. Denim and a black sweater with tan boots. No jewelry besides the earrings sparkling in his ear, real diamonds, and the timepiece on his wrist.

Her heart fluttered at the unexpected sight of him. “You bought me a dance studio,” she said in disbelief while shaking her head. “I didn’t know. I just found the box. I would have called … I would have…”

“You would have done exactly what you did, Mo. I’m learning that about you. You do a lot of fucked-up shit,” Ahmeek stated.

“I don’t mean to,” she answered, her voice small. “I love this. I absolutely love you. I’m so sorry. For everything, Ahmeek.”

“Yeah, well, I ain’t here for apologies, Mo. It’s not necessary.” Ahmeek winced, scratching his temple with one finger.

“Why are you here? How did you know where to find me?”

“Aria,” he answered.

He kept his distance, taking a seat on the edge of the windowsill as he swiped a hand down his head and then ran both hands down his face. He didn’t hug her. Didn’t kiss her. Didn’t even come near her, and the hair on the back of her neck stood and her stomach plummeted.

He knows.

She could tell by his temperament. Space wasn’t something they ever craved when in each other’s presence. The fact that he was still all the way across the room spoke volumes.

“I’m trying real hard to figure out what I want to say to you, Mo.”

Morgan’s stomach tensed. Mo, she repeated it in her head like it wasn’t her name. He keeps calling me that. He was angry.

“Ahmeek—”

“I heard some shit about you, Mo, and I was like, nah,” he said, struggling to get it out as he shook his head. “Nah, she wouldn’t do no shit like that. I need you to tell me something different, because the girl I love wouldn’t do no foul shit like what I heard.”

“I can explain,” she answered. Morgan stood before him. It was judgment day. Time to answer for decisions she had made when Messiah had disappeared from her life. She hadn’t known they would come back to haunt her. She hadn’t anticipated that at all.

Ahmeek leaned forward and rubbed his hands together, then looked beyond his furrowed brow. “Are the twins Messiah’s?” he asked. His voice was sterner than it had ever been with her.

Why was this admission just as hard as it had been with Messiah? Morgan couldn’t even look him in the eyes. Her silence was shame-filled.

“They’re his,” she admitted.

Ahmeek scoffed, shaking his head as he stood.

“Ahmeek!” she called. She didn’t want to follow him, but her heart always marched to the beat of its own drum around him. Not even her pride could defy it. “Give me a chance to explain.”