The sweet aroma of coffee swirled around me like a warm hug as I settled into the corner booth at Hazel's Brew House. The cozy little café was bustling, couples leaning across tables with heart-shaped pastries, still drunk on Valentine's magic. Meanwhile, I sat here with my best friend, my own heart in recovery mode after… well, after the kind of night you don't just casually bring up over a latte.
"So, sis…" Desni's sly smile peeked out over the rim of her mug as she sipped her vanilla cappuccino, eyes sparkling with the kind of nosiness only a best friend could get away with. "You've been glowing all morning. Spill."
I tried to play it cool, stirring my caramel macchiato like it held the secrets of the universe. "Glowing? Please. That's just my new moisturizer."
"Uh-huh." She arched a brow. "Moisturizer doesn't make you look like you just stepped out of a music video, Kennedy. What happened last night? And don't give me that 'oh nothing, just Netflix and tea' line. I can see it in your eyes."
I snorted. "You sound like my grandma. 'I can see it in your eyes.'"
"Don't deflect." Desni leaned in, lowering her voice dramatically. "You got laid, didn't you?"
Nearly choking on my drink, I coughed and waved a hand. "What? No! Of course not. Who even has time for that? You know I was supposed to be with Braxton and he…" My voice faltered, irritation pricking my chest. "…stood me up. Again."
Her mouth dropped open. "Again? On Valentine's Day? Girl, I swear if I see that man, it's on sight. I'll fight him right in the middle of the street."
I laughed despite myself. "Relax, Des. He's not worth the assault charge."
"True," she said, sitting back with a huff. "But still, if you didn't see Braxton, then why do you look like you just came from a honeymoon in Bali?"
Because a certain Mayor with a devastating smile and a private jet kissed me until I forgot my own name.
I bit back the memory, pressing my lips together. "I just… went out, that's all. Needed to clear my head. Fresh air works wonders, you know."
Desni studied me like I was a witness in a courtroom. Then, her grin cracked wide open. "You met someone."
I scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous."
Her grin only grew wider. "Mmhmm. And judging by that blush, it wasn't just 'hello, nice to meet you, goodbye.' It was something. Who is he?"
Before I could come up with another excuse, she leaned back in her chair, suddenly looking suspiciously guilty. "Actually… speaking of Valentine's Day…" She cleared her throat, eyes darting everywhere but at me.
My eyes narrowed. "What did you do?"
Her lips pressed together like she was physically holding in a scream. Then she blurted: "I… may have spent the night with Damian."
I gasped so loudly the older couple at the next table turned their heads. "Damian? As in your brother's best friend Damian? The one you've been calling 'annoying' since middle school?"
Desni covered her face, groaning. "Yes, that Damian. Don't look at me like that!"
I burst out laughing so hard my stomach hurt. "Oh my God! Miss 'I could never' really did! You hypocrite!"
She peeked out between her fingers, cheeks burning. "Don't judge me, Kennedy. It just… happened. And it was" She dropped her hands with a dreamy sigh. "Girl. It was worth every second."
"Look at you!" I teased, wagging my finger. "So I'm not the only one with secrets."
Her eyes narrowed at me, playful now. "Secrets, huh? Thought you said nothing happened last night?"
Busted.
I quickly grabbed my cup and took a long sip. "I didn't say nothing happened. I just haven't decided how much you need to know yet."
Desni smirked. "Uh-huh. Keep your secrets. But just know, bestie radar never lies. You're caught."
Later that afternoon, the bell over the boutique door chimed as I stepped into Kenderella, my little slice of heaven. The racks of shimmering gowns, delicate lace, and carefully styled mannequins greeted me like old friends. The shop smelled faintly of jasmine and new fabric, and sunlight spilled across the polished hardwood floors.
This place was my sanctuary. My dream turned reality.
I ran a hand over one of the satin dresses, the familiar pride swelling in my chest. Every bead, every hem, every gown here told a story and I got to help women feel like royalty, if only for one night.
But as much as I loved my boutique, my heart beat just as fiercely for Kweens Korner, the nonprofit I'd built brick by brick. We weren't just about dresses and parties we were about changing lives, giving young girls a space to feel seen, loved, and limitless.
Inside the multipurpose room next door, laughter echoed as a group of girls painted posters for our upcoming women's empowerment seminar. Glitter was everywhere on the tables, the floor, somehow even in one girl's braids.
"Miss Kennedy!" one of the younger girls called, waving at me with paint-stained fingers. "Look! I made you!" She held up a drawing of a stick-figure woman in a sparkly ballgown, a crown perched crookedly on her head.
My heart melted. I knelt down to admire it. "That's beautiful, baby. You made me look like a queen."
"You are a queen," she said simply, before skipping back to her poster.
Moments like this grounded me. No matter what whirlwind Jameson Belafonte was trying to sweep me into, this was my foundation. These girls. Their dreams. Their futures.
That evening, I found myself sitting across from Braxton in the dim, overly romantic lighting of La Vienne, one of the city's most expensive restaurants. His cologne was as loud as his stories, his voice booming as he recounted the details of his "big business deal" that surprise, surprise was the reason he'd stood me up on Valentine's.
"…so you see, baby, this was really for us. You'll thank me later." He flashed that grin I used to find charming.
Now it just looked like arrogance dipped in cologne.
I stabbed at my salmon, trying to keep my face neutral. "You could've at least called, Braxton. A text. Something."
He waved a dismissive hand. "Come on, Kennedy. Don't be dramatic. You know I've got big things going on. You want a man with ambition, don't you?"
Ambition? Please. Jameson had ambition. Braxton had excuses.
As if on cue, the waiter approached with a massive bouquet of red roses. "For Miss Ellis," he said, placing them carefully on the table.
My eyebrows shot up. "These are from you?"
Braxton puffed his chest, grinning. "Of course. You deserve the best, baby."
Except when I peeked at the card tucked inside, my heart skipped.
For the woman who made Valentine's unforgettable. – JB.
Heat rushed up my neck. I quickly tucked the card back in, my mind spinning. Jameson. Even here, he had a way of sneaking into my world.
Braxton droned on, but I wasn't listening. My thoughts drifted to strong hands fixing my shoe, lips against mine under the stars, the rush of fireworks in the sky.
The butterflies Braxton had once given me were gone, long buried. And Jameson? Somehow, in a single night, he'd resurrected something I thought I'd lost.
Braxton leaned forward, trying to reclaim my attention. "So, as I was saying, this next deal is really gonna put us on the map."
But I barely heard him.
Because in my mind, I was already back on that jet, reliving a kiss that no five-star dinner could ever compare to.