Page 34 of The Final Deal

I’m not signing shit. Fuck off.

Lights flicker on behind the blinds in the studio, the ones facing the house. I rise from the couch and take a peek outside; Zak passes by the window above the sink in the kitchen.

Staying in the studio after spending the night with Adrian a few days ago feels like punishment. Even though my inner brat is kicking and screaming until she’s red in the face that she belongs inside with her boyfriends, the mature adult side has been chastising her—I have to keep my head down and behave.

Head down and behave.

Head down and behave.

My phone rings and buzzes on the coffee table. When I blink and refocus on the house, the kitchen’s gone dark, and now Zak’s bedroom is lit around his blackout curtains.

I snatch up my phone and realize it’s him calling through video. “Hey, hon.”

“Hey.”

His golden aviator frames glimmer in greeting, too. He takes a big swig of water from a purple sports bottle and moves out of frame for a split second, showing that he’s in bed laying down; his dark hair falls gracefully over one brawny and bare shoulder, the one with the heavens opening up with rays of sunlight and a dove descending down his arm.

“It’s Tuesday,” he says, breaking me out of my trance on his muscles.

I make my way to the bed in the loft. “Who we prayin’ for tonight?”

“Ah, well,” he sighs heavily with the ghost of a smile, perhaps remembering all the other Tuesday nights he would come homefrom the botanica and dish the latest hot tea disguised as prayer requests from his long-time weekly limpia client who will see only him. “The biggest fiasco this week is Mrs. Guerra’s grandson knocked up a girl.”

“Oh, boy,” I say in a low tone. “Which grandson?”

“The one who’s barely in high school.”

I inhale sharply with a grimace as I lie down on the bed. “Ooh.”

“Yeah,” he chuckles as he runs his tattooed fingers through his hair. “Guess she’s having flashbacks of her eldest pullin’ the same shit.”

“How do you think Shannon would react if Drea followed in her parents’ footsteps?”

Zak chuckles without a trace of humor. “He’d fuckin’ murder the boy, and so would Dree and I.”

“Yeah, that sounds about right.” A beat of silence passes. “Has Tia Rosa said anything to you?”

He swallows another gulp of water. “’Bout what?”

I shrug nonchalantly. “Any family drama, I guess.”

“Nah. She’s been outta town, anyway.”

“Oh.”

He settles further into bed, situating an arm behind his head. Part of his lip disappears between his teeth and he fidgets with the golden loop. “I think Dree saw us the other day.”

“What?”

“Kissing. In the kitchen.”

I look away. “Yeah, he did.”

“Kinda makes me feel like the sancho now,” he laughs softly.

My heart sinks a little. “I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

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