Page 106 of The Love Syllabus

As the tears now flow, I whisper, “I love you too, Victor Grimes. I love you so much.”

A strangled groan tears from his throat, masking the emotion in his voice but not the tears now flowing from his face. We fall apart together as we come together.

I cry out loud as my orgasm crashes into me while Vic growls my name, burying himself deep, throbbing inside me, pulsing, shaking, gripping me like he never wants to let go.

And I don’t want him to. So, I hold him through it, kiss him through it while we pour every resurrected piece of ourselves into one another because this isn’t just sex. This is us. This is love.

Chapter 28

His Second Chance – Vic

New York has always been home, but it no longer feels like mine. The city has changed. I have changed. But walking these streets with Kerry, showing her the places that made me, feels like I’m reclaiming pieces of myself I thought were lost.

New York is loud and chaotic, a city that never stops moving, but with Kerry beside me, everything slows down.

I take her through the tourist traps first, watching her eyes light up as she sees Times Square for the first time. I pretend to be impressed by the Empire State Building, I even let her drag me through Central Park for a carriage ride that I swear I hate, though the look of wonder on her face does make it worth it.

Then, I show her the real New York. I take her to Sybil’s in Queens for the best bake and shark she’s ever had and Lloyd’s Carrot Cake in the Bronx, where she moans like she’s never tasted something so good. Finally, I fill her up at Jerk Hut in Brooklyn for the best pineapple jerk wings in the state.

After we eat in and around the city, I take her to the courts where Hudson and I used to hustle dudes, betting on games we had no business playing. We were cocky as hell, playing against grown men, stacking cash off their egos, then getting into fights when they realized two rich kids from Sugar Hill had just taken their money.

Kerry listens, laughing when I tell her about the time Hudson took a swing at a dude twice his size, only for me to have to drag his ass off the court before we both got jumped.

“You two were trouble,” she muses, shaking her head.

“Still are.” I smirk.

I park in front of a two-story brick building, where the streetlights cast a golden glow against the historical plaque bolted to the front.

Kerry steps out of the car, curiosity flickering in her eyes. She looks up at the sign, her brows furrowing before she reads the words out loud.

Anne Baptiste—Trinidadian Culinary Genius & Joseph Grimes—Southern Chef Extraordinaire.

I shove my hands in my pockets, my chest tightening as memories flood my mind.

“This is where it all started,” I say. “My grandparents opened this place during the Harlem Renaissance. It was a staple for artists, musicians, poets—Black excellence at its finest. When my dad took over, he expanded it. Built Grimes Hospitality Group from the ground up.”

Kerry reaches for my hand. “They’d be so proud of you.”

I huff out a small laugh, shaking my head. “Even though I lost my way? I’ve been out of touch with my roots for a long time.”

She frowns, squeezing my hand. “You didn’t lose your way, Vic. You just needed to take a different path to find yourself again. And you did.” Her eyes search mine, unwavering. “You’re honoring them every time you cook, every time you step into a kitchen, every time you teach Syd and Ari a new recipe. You’re carrying their legacy forward. And,” she adds, smiling, “I have a feeling your new restaurant would’ve been their favorite.”

“Yeah?”

“Without a doubt.”

For a long moment, I just stare at her—this woman who always knows what to say, always knows how to pull me back from the rabbit hole of my thoughts.

“Let’s go. There’s one more place I need to take you.”

The drive is silent, but Kerry keeps her hand in mine. She doesn’t ask questions and doesn’t press for answers. She just gives me space. Before we get to our destination, we make a quick stop at a small flower shop. I walk in and pick out a bouquet of deep red roses and white lilies.

At a red light, I glance over at her. She’s tapping her finger lightly against her thigh—energy nervous but steady.

“You okay?” I ask.

She nods, eyes flickering toward the bouquet of red roses and white lilies resting in my lap. She stares at them for a long moment before turning back to me.

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