Page 18 of The Black Wife Blessing

"Sometimes I wonder if I'm still that same rebellious kid, you know?" Henry's voice drops lower. "This whole arrangement with us… it's partly to get my mother off my back about settling down. I'm sure you've figured that out by now, seeing the way she acts. She's had my whole life planned since I was born. Marriage, kids, taking over the company..."

The vulnerability in his admission catches me off guard. This isn't the confident, charming Henry I'm used to seeing. This is someone raw and real, fighting against golden handcuffs most people would kill for.

I reach for his hand without thinking, giving it a gentle squeeze. His fingers intertwine with mine, warm and steady.

"Sometimes the hardest expectations to break are the ones from the people who love us," I say softly.

The streetlight above us flickers, casting alternating shadows across Henry's face. We've stopped walking, though I can't remember who stopped first. His hand is still in mine, thumb tracing small circles against my skin.

"Monica." The way he says my name shoots electricity down my spine. He takes a step closer, and I catch the faint scent of his cologne mixed with the crisp nighttime air.

My heart pounds against my ribs. This isn't part of our arrangement. This isn't what we agreed to. But when he lifts his free hand to cup my cheek, I lean into his touch.

"Tell me if you want me to stop," Henry whispers, his breath warm against my lips.

I should say something. Should step back. Should remember all the reasons this is a terrible idea. Instead, I rise on my tiptoes and close the distance between us.

His lips are soft, questioning at first. Then his hand slides to the back of my neck, pulling me closer as the kiss deepens. My fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, and for a moment, everything else fades away - the fake engagement, the press, our complicated lives.

Benjamin's face flashes through my mind like a bucket of ice water. The last time I let myself fall this hard, I ended up shattered. The memory of his manipulative words, his subtle put-downs, hits me full force.

I pull back, my breath coming in short gasps. Henry's eyes open slowly, concern replacing the heat in his gaze.

"I'm sorry," I manage, taking a small step backward. My hand trembles as I touch my lips. "I just... I can't..."

"Hey." Henry's voice is gentle. He doesn't try to close the distance between us. "You don't have to explain. We can take this as slow as you need."

The understanding in his tone makes my chest ache. I wrap my arms around myself, trying to rebuild the walls that his kiss just crumbled.

"It's not you," I say. "I just have some... history I'm still working through."

"It's alright." Henry's voice stays steady, grounding. "Let's get you home."

We walk in comfortable silence, our footsteps echoing off brownstones. The earlier kiss lingers between us - not awkward, just... present. Like a door that's been cracked open.

"Actually," Henry clears his throat as we approach his building. "I wanted to show you something."

The doorman tips his hat as we enter the marble lobby. Henry guides me to the elevator, pressing the button for the fifteenth floor instead of his penthouse.

"So, I've been thinking about our arrangement," he says as we ascend. "The press will expect us to live together, being engaged and all. But I know you value your independence."

The elevator doors open to reveal a pristine hallway with only two doors.

"I bought out this entire floor." Henry pulls out a key ring. "This side will be yours - if you want it. Complete privacy, separate entrance, your own kitchen. The press gets their story, you get your space."

He unlocks the door, revealing a stunning apartment with vast windows overlooking the city. The kitchen gleams with professional-grade appliances that make my chef's heart skip.

"Henry, this is..." My throat tightens. The gesture is thoughtful, considerate - everything Benjamin wasn't.

Benjamin would have used living together as another way to control me, to know my every move. But here's Henry, offering me freedom within the constraints of our arrangement.

"You don't have to decide now. You don't even have to give up your old space if you don't want to." Henry leans against the doorframe, hands in his pockets. "Just think about it. No rush."

I run my fingers along the cool marble countertop, memories flooding back. Benjamin criticizing my cooking, hovering over my shoulder while I worked. Making me doubt every recipe, every technique I'd perfected over years of training. The way he'd slowly chipped away at my confidence until I barely recognized myself in the kitchen that used to be my sanctuary.

But that kiss with Henry earlier today... it felt different. Safe. Electric, but not threatening. Like maybe not every connection has to end in destruction. Like maybe I could actually breathe around someone instead of constantly watching for landmines.

"Thank you," I manage, turning back to Henry, trying to swallow the lump in my throat. "For understanding. For not pushing."

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