Page 5 of Before I Should Leave
“Your window’s foggin’. Thought you might wanna wipe it.”
I took it from him without a word, our fingers brushing briefly. My skin tingled at the contact. Just a spark, but enough. I wiped the inside of the window in slow, absent circles,pretending to be focused on the glass while watching him from the corner of my eye.
“You always been like this?” I asked, setting the towel down. “All calm and collected, smooth with the words, offering tequila like it’s therapy?” He chuckled, deep and low. I shook my head, lips pressed together to keep the laugh in. “You know I should report you, right?”
“For what?”
“For… this. The whole vibe. This is too intimate for a car ride. It should be illegal.”
His eyes flicked to me in the mirror again. “But you ain’t told me to turn the music down, stop talkin’ or pull over so you can wait on another ride.”
I didn’t say anything because I didn’t need to. He was right. I hadn’t said stop. If anything, part of me was hoping this traffic didn’t clear too fast.
The rain hadn’t let up. It was coming down in sheets now, heavy and dramatic like a soundtrack. We inched forward. Barely. Just enough to feel like we weren’t completely stuck. The music had shifted to a H.E.R. joint low in the background. Real smooth. Real intentional. She was singing about time slipping through fingers, and I hated how on-the-nose it felt.
I was staring at my phone screen, inbox open, but none of the emails were registering. Just a blur of deadlines, confirmations, and one from a brand rep I didn’t have the patience to answer. My eyes kept drifting to the windshield and Diesel’s reflection in it. Calm. Still. Fine as hell. One hand still onthe wheel like it belonged there, like it was the only thing in his life he needed to control.
Then, his phone lit up on the dash. He glanced at it, then at me in the mirror. “You mind if I take this?” he asked, voice low.
I shook my head, casually like I didn’t care. “Go ahead.”
He answered with a, “Yeah, baby?” The change in his tone was immediate. Softer. Still deep, but laced with something warmer, gentler. Intimate in a way that didn’t feel performative. I went back to pretending to read my screen, but every word was drowned out by his voice. Not what he said, but how he said it.
“I know. I was tryna get to you by eight, but the airport run ran long. Yeah, I know, baby. I’m sorry. Sleep tight. You'll see me first thing in the mornin’, aight?”
My chest tightened. There was no reason for it to. No reason for the twist in my gut or the way my throat suddenly felt dry. He kept his voice even but full of care. He didn’t rush off the call or try to code-switch for my sake. It was real. And I didn’t know why it made me feel so… left out.
I heard a faint “Love you too” before he hung up and slid the phone back into its cradle. I kept my eyes on my phone for another beat, fingers frozen over the screen. Then, casually, I asked, “So… how long have y’all been together?”
There was a pause. Not long. But long enough to feel it. Then that smirk returned. Subtle. Knowing. “Seven years.”
I blinked. “Oh—wow. That’s… that’s solid.”
“Mmm,” he murmured. “It is.”
I nodded, swallowing. “That’s rare. You don’t hear that much these days.”
He glanced at me through the rearview again. “You sound surprised.”
“I’m not,” I lied. “Just… impressed. That kind of commitment takes… a lot.”
“Yeah,” he said simply. “It does.”
I didn’t know what else to say. My thoughts were scrambling, and I hated that I even asked. Hated the way I was suddenly caught between curiosity and straight-up minding my business. I was about to pivot the conversation when he reached for his phone again.
“Lemme show you somethin’,” he said, unlocking it with a swipe and angling the screen toward me. It was his lock screen. A photo of a little girl—maybe five or six—smiling big with thick curls pulled into two puffballs, a missing tooth front and center, and deep brown skin that looked like royalty.
“Her name’s Draya,” he said with a small smile. “My daughter. She’s with our Nanny at the moment.”
I stared at the picture longer than I meant to, my heart doing something I couldn’t name. “She’s beautiful,” I said softly. “Like… ridiculously cute.”
“‘Ppreciate that. My twin, for real."
“Yeah. She’s got your nose and eyes.”
He nodded. “And her mama’s mouth. Whole lotta opinions already.”
I smiled, even as something tight lingered in my chest. “So you and her mom still together?”
