“Here.” She handed me a bag. “I don’t have your pockets, but I think you may like it,” she said shyly as I opened the black and white shopping bag.

I recognized the bag from the bags my mother had brought here earlier, claiming they were clothes from some custom order Phileigh had gotten from a boutique. Those two had been plotting on me. My mouth dropped the moment I pulled the jersey out of the bag.

“Phee.” I gasped at the custom jersey, which had my Warhawks jersey on one side and my brother’s 49ers jersey on the other.

“I hope you like it,” she said shyly.

I pulled her into a hug. I could buy myself anything I wanted in this world, but this was thoughtful. This said she got it. She knew what I needed.

“I fucking love it.” I kissed her lips. “I’m going to frame it,” I told her, pulling back to fold it up nicely and put it back in the bag.

“Come here. I want to remember this moment.” I grabbed her close and snapped a few selfies of us. “Those are perfect. Let’s get outta here.”

“Oh, wait, let me just spray some more perfume.” She ran toward the dresser where she’d unloaded all her girl shit.

“I’ll be at the door,” I said, heading toward the living room as I swiped through the pictures of me and Phileigh. Damn, she looked good as hell on my arm. Being spontaneous, I opened the Picsgram app, and with a deep breath and a grin, I typed a simple caption and posted the photo. We’d planned a post already, but this one seemed better. Phileigh was killing this dress, her locs were styled perfectly, she’d just given me a fresh cut, and I looked like the happiest nigga on the planet, grinning like a man who knew exactly what he had.

@KellonBarnes: Mine. No questions. @Phileighthebarber #ValentinesDay #someonespecial #softlaunch

“Done,” I said as Phileigh walked into the front room.

“What did you do?”

“You’ll see in three… two…”

Her phone buzzed. She checked it slowly. Her eyes grew big.

“Kellon… this was not what your mother approved.”

“I’m a grown man, baby, and it’s time the people know.” I shrugged. “Let’s go.”

I grabbed her hand and led her down the elevator and into the parking garage where I kept my cars.

“Wait. You’re driving?” She looked confused as I opened the door to my black-on-black Rolls Royce Phantom.

“Yeah. Is that a problem?”

“No. I just assumed you didn’t like it or something.”

“I don’t, but Monte and Doug have the night off for the holiday. So, here we are.” I rounded the car and got into the driver’s side, smirking a little when she pulled her seat belt a little tighter. She really didn’t think I could drive.