Morgan poured her soul into the song, dancing and crying like her life depended on it. Face turned up in disgust, she didn’t miss a count. She had to purge the turmoil she felt. Dancing was like therapy. It allowed her to get it all out. Her mind wasn’t even present. It was on Messiah and Ahmeek and her twins and Bash and Ethic. Everyone except herself. She danced to rid her mind of the burdens of everyone else. She felt an unbelievable guilt pressing on her. She knew Messiah was aching. Confused. He wouldn’t even answer her calls to receive an explanation, and she feared that he’d meant what he had said. He was done, done with her forever, and that destroyed her because even when she had thought he was dead, she had never been done. Their chapter was historic, one she relived in her mind often. A part of her was relieved. It unburdened her that the truth was out. She knew her twins were safe with Messiah, but she could only imagine how confused they must be.

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—”