Page 13 of A Virgo’s Muse (BLP Signs of Love #12)

It had been days since I last saw Onyx. Not hours, not one long day that dragged on too long… days. Each one moved like wet paint down a canvas I didn’t even have the energy to finish.

He tried to come by. He tried calling. He tried texting.

But I couldn’t receive any of it, not yet.

My spirit was swollen with too much. My best friend had been violated because of a war I didn’t even know I was standing in.

My mother was fighting for her life. My pride had taken a blow I didn’t expect from someone who made me feel so safe… so seen.

And yet, no matter how much I tried to run from him, he kept showing up, not physically but through my art.

He was in every shade of black I smeared across a canvas, every burst of red and blue that bled from my brush like a bruise.

His eyes haunted the sketchbook I kept by my bed.

That one freckle by his lip showed up in a quick charcoal piece I swore was just a practice sketch.

The angles of his jaw, the depth of his presence was all over my studio.

I hated it. But I didn’t want it to stop either.

I was booked at a gallery in two weeks. It was one of the biggest shows I’d ever had. I had three more pieces to complete, and like always, he was the muse for them all. He hadn’t just left me with memories; he left me with fuel. And still… he hadn’t left me at all.

He made sure every bill in my life was handled like I didn’t just push him away days ago. I called to reverse a payment, and the lady said, “Oh, no need, ma’am. Your husband paid it in full.”

That word clung to me. Husband . He wasn’t mine, but my heart refused to correct her.

Sade was still healing. She was quiet at times.

But even after what she went through, being dragged into something she had no business in, she was still Team Onyx.

She told me to hear him out. Swore I didn’t know the whole story.

And now, she was practically glued to Ghost’s side.

He was soft for her. He didn’t even try to hide it.

My mama had finally opened her eyes again.

Her seizure had scared us all, but she came back to that same place—present enough to whisper a few things, squeeze our hands, smile softly.

My dad never left her side. He held her hand like she still made his world spin.

He lived in a reality where she was fine, and that was enough for him.

That kind of love terrified me because I wanted it, and I was scared I had it and ruined it.

After moping in bed an hour too long after my alarm went off, I finally got up to do my hygiene and get ready for the day.

I went to my bathroom and turned on my shower, getting in instantly.

I didn’t have time to allow it to heat up before the water touched my body.

I washed up twice before getting out and throwing on something quick.

I grabbed my keys and a banana that was on the counter and then proceeded to head to my studio.

Today was the first day I opened My Desires for a full shift.

In the morning, I hosted an intermediate painting class that left me full, inspired, and exhausted in the best way.

And now, I was prepping for a paint and sip party scheduled from 4:00 p.m. to midnight.

Tables were set. Wine glasses lined the bar.

Canvases were stacked with care, ready to be passed out.

R&B played low in the background. Sage burned near the entrance. I felt peaceful… almost.

The studio clock read 3:50 p.m. when I heard the door chime. They were ten minutes early.

“Welcome to My Desires ,” I called over my shoulder as I wiped down a counter. My voice was warm, professional, and polite. “Thank you so much for booking for your special eve?—”

I turned around mid-sentence, and there he was.

Onyx . His towering frame filled the room before the scent of his cologne could.

Arms were full, food in one and a bouquet of sunflowers and white lilies in the other.

He had that same sorrow in his eyes I saw in my dreams. It quieted the whole room.

He didn’t say anything at first. He just stood there and let me look at him. And God, I looked.

He was fine in a way that hurt in a black tee, dark denim, and a gold chain that caught the light as he stepped closer. But it was his eyes that snatched the air out of my lungs. They weren’t angry. They weren’t guarded. They were apologizing before his mouth even opened.

“I didn’t come to interrupt your work,” he said softly. “I came to apologize, not just for what happened but for not giving you the truth… when you deserved it the most.”

I didn’t say a word. I let him speak. For once, I just listened.

“I ain’t used to needing someone the way I need you,” he continued.

“I didn’t tell you everything, not ’cause I didn’t trust you, but because I was scared of losing you before you knew me…

the real me. The one with blood on his hands and war on his back.

I thought if I could just keep you happy, protect you from all the bullshit… I could keep you.”

He took a breath.

“I love you, Desire. I love you because you see the world in colors I didn’t even know existed.

I love the way you talk to your paint like it understands you.

I love how quiet you get when you’re mad and how loud you laugh when you’re not.

I love that you never needed me… but you let me show up anyway.

I don’t want to be a man who hides from love. I want to be a man who deserves yours.”

The flowers trembled slightly in his hand.

“I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry I made you question us. But I promise I’ll never lie to you again. I’ll never let this world touch you without touching me first.”

The silence was thick, dense, and holding all my Virgo pride in a chokehold. Because we didn’t take being let down lightly. We remembered details, replayed moments, built walls with precision, forgave slowly, and trusted even slower. But he made a home in me.

And when he stood there, full of sorrow but steady… I felt all those walls I swore would never drop start to crumble like paper in rain.

“I’m mad at you,” I whispered. “For not trusting that I could handle the truth. For putting me in a position where I had to feel unsafe just to feel clarity.”

“I know,” he said, eyes low.

“But I missed you.” My voice cracked. “I missed you so bad I couldn’t paint nothing but you. I missed your arms. I missed how safe you made my crazy ass feel. I missed how seen I felt when you looked at me like I was art.”

He smiled, soft and aching. “You are art, baby.”

I stepped closer, and without saying a word, I took the flowers from his hands and placed them in a vase near the front desk.

Then I walked back over to him and wrapped my arms around his waist, burying my face in his chest. He held me tight like he never planned to let go.

And in that moment, I didn’t want him to.

We just stood there for a while. No clock ticking mattered. No customers. No bills. No pain. Just his arms. Just me breathing. It was just us in the silence that said everything we couldn’t put into words.

Then, just as I was about to pull away, I felt his lips brush the top of my head. His voice was low like a secret he had been waiting to share.

“I booked the private paint and sip,” he whispered.

I looked up, blinking. “Wait. What?”

“I reserved it. I used a fake name ’cause I didn’t think you’d say yes if you knew it was me.

I just… I needed to be close to you, even if all I got was a few hours, some paint, and a chance to see you smile while you talked about brush strokes.

” He smirked a little. “I was gon’ sit in the back like some groupie if I had to.

But being near you again? That was worth every dollar. ”

I blinked fast, emotions crashing into each other like waves. “You really booked a whole session just to?—”

“To find my way back to you,” he said, holding me even closer. “I ain’t perfect, Desire. But I know real when I feel it. And I’m not letting go of the one woman who makes my chaos feel like peace.”

I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. So, I kissed him instead—long, deep, like all those nights we spent wrapped up in each other meant something again. And they did. Because this? This was the beginning of something new. Maybe it was not perfect, but it was ours.