She must have looked feral, because Deya squinted her eyes. “Damn, here. You look real pressed right now.”

Liza took the box, trying not to snatch it out of her sister’s hands. Whatever this was with Dorsey belonged to her alone.

It didn’t mean she wasn’t excited about WIC coming tomorrow. She wanted so fiercely to protect her choice to her mother that she told no one of the creeping doubt that came over her about WIC sometimes. The way a surprise frost ruined the first buds of spring, Liza fought the coldness that threatened to creep in. But she always did this, found one fault with a person and turned them into the villain in her story. If she was honest with herself, it had kept her single for longer than she liked. WIC was handsome, charming, woke, and a brother. He already had three traits up on Dorsey. Liza stopped herself right there. Images flickered in her head like a faulty projector. No. Get thee behind me.

“Have you guys, like, done anything?” LeDeya asked.

“Who?” Panic constricted her throat.

“Who else?” Deya laughed. “WIC.”

Liza bristled. Why had the thought of sex with WIC seemed so great that morning? Now it turned her stomach, which was not something she’d admit to anyone. Her mother and LeDeya would tease her mercilessly. Liza found a flaw again! One hair’s out of place, so Liza dumped him!

“No, and I won’t until I’m married,” Liza said. LeDeya huffed and reached out to pinch her older sister’s thigh.

“I’m not a child, you know,” LeDeya said, without real conviction.

“That is exactly what you are,” Liza said. LeDeya fell asleep then, her head still resting on her sister’s belly. Liza slowly uncurled herself from her sleeping sister and padded to the balcony. Slowly, she opened the box. A book from a Harvard sociologist on eviction. Of course it wasn’t a necklace.

He knew that this was what she would love from him.

She flipped through the book. It was marked up around the margins with his brusque handwriting. She ran her thumb along the grooves of the earnest markings and a tear fell and spread the dark ink across her fingers. She finally saw the note.

Liza—God, the way he wrote her name!

Let’s discuss! This was illuminating. It really is all coming together.

He was self-educating. He had a blind spot and he was doing the work. Shit. All she ever wanted was a little effort. She held the book to her heart. It was such a tiny gesture. But it was worth more than what would have been in a real Tiffany box. She rocked in her chair. Two fifteen a.m. was no time to grip her phone so tightly. Ugh, she had to text him.

Was I a prop?