Page 268 of Kentrell

I smirked. “So how long did it take?”

She hesitated just long enough to make it funny.

“A whole month.”

“Amonth?” I shrieked. “You left Darius Anderson hanging for thirty days?”

“Sure did,” she said proudly. “I thought I was all that. Too cute, too into my own mess to care what some suit could do for me.”

She laughed, then added with a mock-confessional tone, “Also… Lauren had just announced herMiseducation Tour, and I needed a few tickets.”

Iwheezed. “Really, Mom?”

“What?” she laughed with me. “Don’t act like you wouldn’t call a fine, rich man back if you thought he had box seats.”

I laughed until my cheeks hurt, holding the phone to my ear like it was sacred. And for a few seconds, I let myself forget everything else—Jellybean’s case, the past tension, even the reasons I’d shut my mother out. Because this? This was gold.

I could still feel her warmth through the line when her tone softened again.

“He was different, Zoe. From the beginning. Not just because of what he had—but because of who he was. How he saw me. How he sawyou.”

My voice caught. “I believe you.”

And I did.

“Oop—wait a minute.” I heard my mother say then, “This is Zonda calling me back—baby, can I call you back, in a sec?”

“Yeah, ma, that’s fine.”

“Okay, baby, Zoe—I love you.”

“Love you, too.” I sighed, deeply.

After we hung up, I stayed in the chair a little longer than I meant to, phone still in my hand, gaze drifting out the window. The sky had started to dim just a little, the kind of soft, overcast gray that made the world feel suspended. Still.

I thought about what she said. About Darius. About how he looked at her andsawher.

It struck me deeper than I expected.

Because that’s exactly how Kentrell mademefeel from the start.

Like I wasn’t too much or not enough. Like I didn’t have to perform to be worthy of softness. He saw past the tailored suits, the professional voice, the carefully built image I wore like armor. And somehow, without ever asking for the real me—he made her show up.

I used to think that kind of love was a myth. Something other people got, but not women like me. Women who’d learned to carry their weight and everyone else’s too. Who wore their independence like a badge of honor, and secretly hoped someone might still offer to lift the load.

Kentrell didn’t just offer. Heliftedit. Quietly. Steadily. Like it was nothing.

He never told me to be softer—he just gave me the space to be.

And I fell into that space, headfirst.

I used to worry what people would think. My colleagues. My mentors. The whispers about who he was and where he came from. I was so scared of being judged that I almost missed what was real.

But now?

Now I didn’t care who saw me loving that man.

Because being with Kentrell didn’t make me smaller—it made me feel moremethan I ever had before. Like I wasn’t just someone’s daughter, or someone’s star employee, or someone’s success story.

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