“I know you didn’t.” His voice softened. “But when you make excuses, like maybe the people at the store were staring at you, not me, or maybe the cops were just too busy to come our way . . . that’s bullshit, Andra. People claim a million damned reasons for treating you and me differently except the real one. They won’t say it’s our color, so they can act like it’s deeper than that.”

He cradled her hand between both of his, because even in the steamy heat of the night, it was chilled, trembling.

“I’m sorry.” Her voice caught.

“Me too.” He let his head drop and rested his forehead on their hands. “Me too, Andie-girl. But I need you to listen instead of trying to explain things away. Okay? That’s what I need.” He pressed a kiss to her hand, breathing in her scent for a minute before he let her go. He picked up one of the weights, bracing his elbow against his knee for bicep curls.

“So am I imagining you pushing the Saints cup to the back of the cupboard?” Andra’s hands fidgeted in her lap. “Because okay, yes, we’re different, but when we were back home and the other employees didn’t invite you to watch baseball games at Curt’s, you hated it.” Andra tilted her head. “You said it was stupid they thought you wouldn’t like baseball because you’re black. So what? Do you think I wouldn’t like the Saints because I’m white?”

He swapped hands for the weight, moving through reps faster than he should as shame fisted in the base of his neck. “Not because of the Saints.”

He didn’t want to say this, and he knew there was no way to avoid it now. Still, he could tell how much courage it had taken her to confront him, so he matched it, pulling his eyes back up to hers.

“Because it’s plastic.” Her long lashes flickered with hurt. He hurried to add, “No man wants to bring a woman home to plastic go cups and a mattress with no frame.” He dropped the weight and tried to smile, though his lips felt too tight. “If I had my way, I’d have welcomed you with chandeliers and vaulted ceilings and cut crystal.”

“You should know me better than to think that’s what I want.”

He hung his head, rubbing a hand over the back of his sweaty neck. “I know it. Don’t make it any easier.”

“It’s not just you, though. It can’t be. Because when Mona came over today, she did the same thing. Took the Saints cup for herself and gave me a different one.”