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And Ineededthis reminder. This song. The lows of my life don’t define me. Nothing anyone else says or does changes the truth. He sings the chorus, and I sing with him. Him and me, we are the fucking kings of the world. We can do anything when we do it together. He is my ride or die. Nothing will break us—it might bend us a bit, but we will never break.

It’safter midnight when we pull into Omar’s driveway and park next to a black Ferrari with Noah Royale perched on the side of it. Sunglasses and all.

“What ishedoing here?”

“I don’t know.”

“Are you investing in his project?”

“I don’t think so.”

“No, don’t say that because of me,” I beg. I don’t want him turning himself inside out on my behalf anymore. He has a whole life outside of me, and I’ve already taken too much.

“It’s not because of you. It’s because I won’t have anything to do with the family led by people who fuck with lives and think nothing of it. But I like him.”

“You do?”

“Yes, he’s honest. And passionate. He’s a good guy.”

“I’m sorry if this messes up your friendship.” I remember how fondly he spoke of him before we got here.

“You have nothing to be sorry for. Come on, you go on in, and I’ll deal with him.”

“Solomon, we need to talk,” Noah says as soon as we climb down.

“I’ll be right in, Jules,” he says and squeezes my hand.

I’m too tired to argue, but I can’t take my eyes off Noah. If Nora Royaleismy mother, then he’s my brother. When she said her husband and children couldn’t know, I thought about him. I wasn’t looking for her, orthemin the first place. But now… I have a brother. Someone who shares half my DNA. I wish I could get to know him.

“Youlooklike her,” he says. Even behind his dark glasses, I can feel the intensity of his stare.

“Did she tell you?” I ask.

“Yes. That’s why I’m here. You were right to come. But you were barking up the wrong tree. Can I come in? I need to talk to both of you.”

EPILOGUE

Jules

It’slike time stood still in Stow-on-the-Wold when we pull onto the road that rings its lake. It’s a blustery August morning, fitting as these windy days were my father’s favorite. He didn’t mind that it cooled his wax down too fast and always left a window open. Wind, he said, carries scent and stories and can tell you what’s coming your way before you see or hear it. I roll the window down a crack and lift my nose to catch it.

“What do you smell?” Omar asks.

“Bread, laundry detergent.”

“No brimstone?”

“I’m still nervous,” I admit as we round the small lake toward the cemetery where my father was laid to rest.

“Me, too. You think he would have liked me?”

I quirk an eyebrow. “Does it matter?” I laugh.

“Very much.” He sounds solemn. “I can’t imagine what I’d do if my family didn’t accept you. In our culture, marriage isn’t justtwo people coming together, it’s two families becoming one. And so yeah, I’d like to think that wherever he is, he approves of me.”

Lord have mercy, this man and his words. “Oh, Omar, he’d call you a break, too. You act like I’m special, but so are you. You’re the best person I know. The best friend I’ve ever had. You’re my home.”

“I love it when you sing my praises. Don’t stop.”