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I frowned. "Why the fuck not?"

"Because it’s something I need to say to you in person.” My stomach twisted.

"Creed…"

"Just… can we go out tomorrow night?" he asked.

I hesitated. "You know what tomorrow is, right?"

"Yeah," he said softly. "I know. It’s Valentine’s Day. Our first one together. And I want to spend it with you."

Something in his voice made me pause. He sounded… worried. Like he thought I might say no. I exhaled slowly.

"Okay," I murmured.

"Okay?"

"Yeah. We can go out."

"Alright," he said, and I could hear the relief in his voice. "I’ll pick you up. Dress nice."

"I always dress nice," I teased.

He chuckled. "That’s true."

For the next hour, we just talked, falling back into our usual rhythm. Like nothing had happened. Like I hadn’t spent the last three days questioning everything. Like whatever he had to tell me tomorrow wouldn’t change things forever. But something in my gut told me… It would.

The rideto Carbone was quiet. Not from lack of excitement—I was looking forward to seeing Creed. But deep down, something felt different. Something felt… off.

I stepped out of the black SUV, adjusting my sleek red dress as CJ, my driver and security, closed the door behind me.

The night air was crisp, but not cold enough to bite. The streets were bustling, the soft glow of Manhattan’s streetlights setting the perfect mood for Valentine’s night.

But all of it paled in comparison to what was waiting for me outside the restaurant.

Creed.

The second his eyes landed on me, his whole face softened.

"Damn, Beautiful," he murmured as I walked up. "You tryin’ to kill me?" He eyed me in my red dress that hugged my hips, red heels making me stand just below his chin.

I smirked, but before I could even respond, he was pulling me into him—holding me tight, kissing me slow. The kind of kiss that was supposed to feel like forever. But something about it felt like… an apology.

When he finally pulled back, he handed me a bouquet of deep red roses and a small stuffed brown teddy bear with a tiny gold bow around its neck.

"Happy Valentine’s Day, Beautiful," he murmured.

I smiled, running my fingers over the soft petals before looking up at him. "Thank you, Langston. This is sweet."

"You deserve it," he said simply.

And yet… even as he smiled at me, even as he held my hand and walked me inside, something in his eyes told me this night wasn’t going to end the way I had imagined.

The ambiance inside Carbone was intimate. Low lighting, soft jazz music playing in the background, candlelit tables arranged perfectly. It was a Valentine’s dream. But I could feel it. The weight. The tension. The way Creed’s leg bounced under the table as if he was trying to stop himself from bolting.

I sipped my sweet tea slowly, watching him over the rim of my glass.

"So," I said after a moment, my voice light but questioning. "Are you gonna tell me what’s on your mind? Or are we just gonna pretend you didn’t invite me here to drop a bomb on me?"