Page 12 of My Only (My First, My Last)

I’d had my furniture forever.

I wanted our house—the one Hassani designed—to have a cohesive aesthetic, not feel like random pieces thrown together.

Over the years, we’d transformed it into a home.

Now, the missing piece?

Furniture that fit.

As soon as I walked in, I knew it would be a challenge to find something within a reasonable budget.

For Hassani, though?

There was no budget.

Money, in his mind, was printed to be spent.

And he had brought us to a place where we could probably spend it all.

Various living room setups were arranged ahead of us.

The soft overhead lighting, elegant displays, and plush seating created a cozy, upscale ambiance.

It was beautiful—but expensive as hell.

I had barely stepped a few feet inside when I heard a voice.

“Oh, hello! Welcome, welcome.”

I turned toward the sound, spotting a young, stylish woman approaching.

She wore a tight gray dress and a bright white smile.

But her eyes?

They looked past me.

Did a double take on Hassani and hadn’t lost focus.

When I turned, I saw him focused on his phone, typing as he walked up behind me.

I inhaled sharply.

I already knew how this was going to go.

“Welcome to Verana Interiors.” Her tone was bright, sugary, but her eyes were still locked on my husband. “I’m Mia, a sales associate here.” Her voice practically purred. “And you are?”

I fought the urge to roll my eyes.

Here we go.

Some women flirted subtly.

Mia?

She might as well have thrown her phone number at Hassani’s feet and waited for him to pick it up.

She hadn’t even looked at me yet.

I released a soft scoffing laugh. “Hi, Mia. I’m Ayla.”

My voice was firm, patient.

I waited until she finally met my eyes, before adding, “Nice to meet you, Mia.”

She smiled sweetly.

Her attention flicked back to Hassani before snapping back to me.

“Pleasure.” She cleared her throat. “What can I help you with today?”

I inhaled slowly, forcing myself to stay calm.

Between Hassani being distracted by his phone. Mia being too distracted by my husband… I was being tested.

Still, I answered smoothly. “My husband and I are here to browse furniture for our living room.”

I took a slight step back, my elbow discreetly nudging Hassani’s ribs.

His head jerked up from his phone.

“ Uh , yeah,” he said, blinking. “Furniture for the living room.”

Mia’s smile widened instantly.

The moment Hassani made eye contact with her, she practically glowed.

“Excellent.” She giggled.

God.

This again.

“Do you have a specific style in mind?” Mia twirled a strand of her blonde hair, combing her fingers through it. “We at Verana specialize in exclusive, curated collections.” Her voice was syrupy sweet. “I’m sure we can find something that fits your aesthetic.”

I tilted my head slightly. “We’re looking for something modern—but within budget.”

Before Mia could answer, Hassani stepped closer behind me.

His arms wrapped around my waist, his chin resting on my shoulder.

“But you know,” he added smoothly, “feel free to show us everything.”

He pressed a slow kiss to my temple. “Budget’s not very important, right, baby?”

I bit my tongue, feeling myself ready to protest.

Mia blinked out of her stare, her eyes falling to Hassani’s arms around my waist. “Well…” She focused on Hassani again. “You’ve come to the right place. Let me show you around.”

“Cool,” Hassani replied, his hand moving to mine where he interlocked our fingers.

As Mia showed Hassani and me around the showroom, pointing out furniture that was both loud and wrong and beautiful but way too pricey, Hassani divided his attention between her and his phone.

On the car ride over, he explained that he and representatives for Bryant Greene had been going back and forth through emails regarding the Greene Gardens Project.

They were negotiating terms that would determine if Hassani would join their team as a principal architect.

He’d been in talks with them for a month now, ever since Bryant Greene’s assistant called at six in the morning, asking Hassani to drop everything and drive into the city for an impromptu meeting.

If he landed this project, Hassani would officially be a millionaire. The starting salary alone was $1.2 million. His largest yet.

I would be married to a millionaire. The thought had me smiling.

Mia stopped in front of a modern-looking furniture set, sleek and dramatic, like it belonged on the set of Miami Vice and not in our home.

“Oh, I like this one,” Hassani voiced.

“You have excellent taste,” Mia said with another one of her little giggles.

Hassani took a seat on the loveseat, running his hand along the cushion.

“A little stiff,” he commented, patting the cushion. “But it’s more for style anyway, right?”

I arched a brow.

“Exactly,” Mia concurred. “This is more of a statement piece, and you look fantastic on it.”

“ Hmph ,” I huffed, scanning the room for something else. “I was thinking something a little more… comfortable and less of a statement piece. It would be nice to actually relax on it sometimes. You know?”

Hassani was back on his phone again, eyes glued to the screen, typing, when Mia took a seat a little too close to him on the loveseat.

She lightly touched his arm. “This set, though pricey, suits a man like you, so this one is obviously the better option.”

Hassani slid his eyes from his screen and glanced at where she touched him, realizing she’d taken a seat beside him.

His eyes snapped to mine.

I arched both brows and folded my arms.

He chuckled as he moved to the edge of the loveseat, quickly standing up.

“I’ll check availability in our warehouse,” Mia said, scooting to the edge of her seat to stand up after him. “And I’ll be right back to let you know if we have this set ready to ship.”

I followed her with my eyes as she walked off, scoffing to myself.

To say this was unusual would be a lie. From the time Hassani and I were only friends as teenagers, I’d watched women literally throw themselves at him. It was ridiculous. Pathetic, even. Always funny to watch, though—even as his wife.

It’s crazy how even with a giant diamond ring circling his left finger, women still flirted with him. Often right in front of me.

I glanced over at Hassani, now standing beside me.

“You know, between you being distracted by your phone and Mia gearing herself up to get her ass beat down at her job,” I started, “I’m not sure who’s pissing me off more.”

Hassani lifted his eyes off his phone to focus on me.

“Actually.” I turned to face him. “ I feel like you’re pissing me off more.”

“ Aww , baby, baby,” he said, sliding his phone into his back pocket.

“Then again...” I turned to look where Mia had walked off before shifting my attention back to Hassani.

“I feel like you should take off your shirt, flex a pec, and see if you can get us a discount off ol’ girl.

Turn on the charm a little. Show her some skin and attention so we can get this stiff-ass, expensive furniture for cheap. ”

Hassani hollered a laugh, making me laugh too.

He walked up to me and circled his arms around my waist, pulling me closer. “I told you I was working today. I’m sending emails back and forth?—”

“Coffee bar, coffee bar,” I cut in. “All I can see as you tell me this is that ugly sculpture on our coffee bar.”

He snatched me closer and brought his fingers to my stomach, tickling me until I hunched forward, laughing louder, trying to escape.

Hassani wrapped his arms around me again and lowered his mouth to mine, pressing a long, deep kiss against my lips, parting them to slide his tongue in.

I moaned, pressing my hands to either side of his face as he held me even tighter.

After a short while, he gently broke our kiss and pressed his forehead to mine. “My first, my last, and my only,” he said. “That’s you. Always remember that. I don’t see no one else. You hear me?”

I closed my eyes and smiled as he pressed another kiss to my lips.

Someone clearing their throat behind us had both Hassani and me looking that way.

It was Mia, her smile less bright as she closed the distance between Hassani and I.

“Okay,” Mia started. “So, I was able to check availability on this set?—”

“Mia, right?” Hassani quizzed, pulling me in front of him to hold me from behind.

She offered a small smile. “That’s right.”

“Let’s not focus on this one right here,” he said, gesturing to the furniture set he was originally interested in. “Whatever my wife wants, that’s what we’re getting.”

Mia’s brows shot up. “Oh… umm … yeah, of course.” She moved her eyes to me, then swallowed hard. “What was the… uhh , style you said you were interested in?”

I forced a smile. “Modern, comfortable… not white.”

“Right.” She nodded. “Okay. Follow me, and I’ll show you something you’ll love.”

I smirked. “Perfect. Please, lead the way.”

For the next hour, Mia proved why she worked at a high-end furniture store. She walked us through pieces that matched the budget I had in mind while also satisfying the aesthetic I wanted. I had to admit, she was good at her job— and she wasn’t so bad once she stopped flirting with my husband.

“You have great taste, Ayla,” Mia said with a genuine smile after I settled on a furniture set that Hassani also loved. “I’ll go ahead and place the order, set up the delivery time, and be back with all the details.”

I nodded. “Thank you so much, Mia.”

“Yeah, thanks, Mia,” Hassani added, pulling out his phone the second it buzzed in his pocket.

“My pleasure, you two.” She nodded before walking off.

I turned to Hassani, smiling, excited that we’d finally have a living room that felt like ours .

But when I looked at him, I noticed something was off.

He stood frozen behind me, his eyes locked on his phone’s screen.

The smile fell from my lips. “Everything okay, baby?”

He lifted his gaze, his jaw dropping slightly.

“What?” I stepped closer. “What’s the matter?”

His voice was low, almost disbelieving. “I got it.”

“Got what?” I blinked. “The Greene Gardens Project?”

He nodded, slowly at first, then faster. “Yeah.”

I smiled big. “They agreed to 1.2 million?!”

“Nah.” He shook his head.

My smile melted.

“It’s for 2.5.”

I blinked. Hard.

This was the same man who, just a few months ago, wasn’t even sure he’d get a second meeting. The same man who doubted whether he was big enough to be in the same room as someone like Bryant Greene. And now? He wasn’t just in the room. He owned it .

“Wh-what?” I asked.

“I asked for more at our second meeting,” he explained, still staring at the phone screen. “Told them that after reviewing the plans and realizing the enormity of the project, my compensation would have to be higher for it to be fair. I… I negotiated for more—I never thought they’d approve it.”

“Wait.” I held up a trembling hand between us. “2.5 million… dollars ?!”

“A year. And for the duration of the project,” he exhaled. “It’s unheard of. And way above the average for an architect salary. But… yeah.”

The excited scream burst out of me before I could stop it. I slapped a hand over my mouth. “ Baby !”

I threw my arms around him, and Hassani lifted me off the ground in a spin.

“I’m so proud of you.” I hugged him tighter. “Congratulations!”

“Thank you, baby. Thank you,” he said, setting me down on my feet.

His grin stretched wide, lighting up his entire face, and it melted my heart.

Hassani had worked so hard for this. I’d watched him pour countless hours into proposals, take so many calls, stress over every detail. And now? It all paid off.

I glanced around the store and raised a hand when I noticed we had everyone’s attention.

I laughed. “I’m so sorry, y’all…” I called out.

Then I turned back to Hassani, wrapping my arms around his waist. Low and just for him, I whispered, “But my man is a multi-millionaire.”

He laughed, circling his arms around my waist and pressing a kiss to my lips.

I tightened my arms around him, sinking into the moment, into him , into us . I wanted to stay here forever, in this high, in this happiness.

But the thing about moments like these?

They don’t last forever.

Not when the very thing that brings you joy… is the same thing that pulls you apart.