Page 8 of My Only (My First, My Last)

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“ Mmm .” The second I stepped into the kitchen, I inhaled deeply. “Smelling good.”

Hassani chuckled as he stood over the stove, flipping a pancake.

Overhead, I stole a glance through the skylight. It was just past six in the morning, and the sky was beginning to brighten. Soft morning light filtering in.

I had watched seventeen seasons pass while living in this house. Witnessed how the morning light stretched longer in the summer and retreated in the winter.

We were a few weeks away from autumn, still in the final days of summer, which meant I had time to enjoy these sunrises before driving to Manhattan with Hassani for work.

Mingling with the scent of sweet pancakes and savory scrambled eggs was the rich aroma of fresh coffee, and I went straight for it. I needed it. My eyes were burning.

Musiq Soulchild’s “Betterman” played low from our small Bluetooth stereo as Hassani moved between flipping pancakes and sketching in his sketchbook.

I snickered while reaching for a mug. The man was always sketching something. Doodling everything from a built-in bookshelf for my ever-growing collection of nonfiction books to a cozy nook beneath the staircase, perfect for reading or for him to sketch.

I teased him about it all the time.

But I loved it.

“Good to see you finally made it down here, Mrs. Franklin.” Hassani turned off the stove, moving the final pancake to a plate. “I thought you were gonna oversleep today.”

“Well, if someone didn’t keep me up last night, I would’ve reported for duty on my day to make breakfast.” I poured my coffee and leaned back against the counter. “I could barely get out of bed this morning.”

His grin was smug as he plated the food. “Oh, so now it’s my fault?”

“ You wouldn’t let me sleep.” I took a slow sip of coffee. “You know my bedtime is ten.”

“We were in bed by ten.”

“Yeah, and making love on and off like rabbits until two in the morning.”

He feigned confusion. “Was it until two?”

“Yes, Energizer Bunny.”

He snorted a laugh before closing the space between us, stopping just long enough to press a kiss to my lips. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” I murmured against his lips before pecking him twice more.

When I opened my eyes, his hazel-greens were locked on mine.

He winked.

I smiled.

“Come on.” Hassani nodded toward the kitchen table. “Let’s eat.”

This had been our routine for the past four years.

Breakfast together before heading to work—me at my school with my preschoolers, him at his private office a short walk away. Lunch together in his office. A drive home in the evening. Cooking dinner together. Rinse and repeat.

We alternated breakfast duties, but that morning, my husband had worn me out, so he took one for the team.

Our lives were predictable, and I had come to love that predictability. I had my own car, could have lunch with the teachers at school who felt like my extended family, but nothing beat my routine with Hassani.

It was comfort. The kind I had always wanted.

“What are you getting into after school today?” he asked, forking some eggs into his mouth.

I sliced into my pancake. “I want to start planning next year’s end-of-summer trip. Get a head start this year so I have more time to find a nice hotel.”

Every year, right before the school year started, Hassani and I took a trip somewhere new.

He knew traveling was something I had always dreamed about as a kid. And he knew how much I admired Aunt Laurie for her solo adventures across the world.

I had tried traveling alone once I was old enough, but it always felt like something was missing.

Then I started traveling with Hassani.

And I realized what was missing was him.

It had become a part of our life together, something I treasured just as much as the home we built.

“How about you?” I asked. “What are you getting into when we get back home?”

He tapped his sketchbook with his pencil, smiling. “Got something I’m working on for the basement?—”

The sudden ring of his phone cut him off.

We both turned toward it as it vibrated on the table near his plate.

I glanced at the stove clock. 6:15 a.m.

My brows pulled together. “Who could that be?”

“No idea.” Hassani picked up his phone, flipping it over to check the screen. His brows furrowed even deeper. “I don’t know this number.”

It was a little early for the phone to be ringing.

I thought it but didn’t say it, too curious to find out what it was about.

By the third ring, Hassani answered, putting the call on speaker.

“Hello?”

“Good morning.”

The voice was bright and chipper, as if it were six in the evening, not six in the morning.

“I’m Chelsea Foster, the assistant to Bryant Greene. Am I speaking with Mr. Hassani Franklin?”

Hassani immediately straightened in his seat—so did I.

“Yes.”

Our eyes met, my hand flying to my chest.

“Is now a good time to speak, Mr. Franklin?”

“Yeah,” Hassani replied quickly, clearing his throat. “I mean, yes. Now is good.”

“Perfect.” She giggled. “I apologize for calling so early, but Mr. Greene requested I make contact to confirm if you’re available to meet with him today.”

Hassani blinked hard at that.

“He was able to review your proposal and go over your community sketch. He’d like to discuss your plans further with you in person.”

“Oh! Okay… umm …yeah, cool.” Hassani shook his head. “I mean… good. Great.”

I slapped a hand to my mouth, my eyes wide in shock. I removed my hand long enough to mouth, Oh my God.

Earlier that summer, Hassani had told me about a major project he had written a proposal for.

One of his former clients from 2018 to 2019, Arielle St. James—owner of several luxury hotels, including the largest one in Tribeca—had recommended Hassani to an acquaintance. Hassani thanked her and left it at that, not thinking much of it

That acquaintance turned out to be Bryant Greene—something Hassani only discovered when the multi-billionaire personally reached out, inviting him to create a proposal and sketch based on his vision.

Hassani had jumped on it, completing everything in just a week.

We hadn’t heard anything back. Not a word.

So Hassani moved on, focusing on life and work, believing he wouldn’t get a second meeting.

Until now.

“Mr. Greene only has a small window of three hours before he flies out of the country,” Chelsea continued. “He needs to meet with you this morning. Would you be able to make it to his office in Manhattan within the next hour and a half?”

Hassani shot straight up, his chair clattering to the floor behind him.

I snorted a laugh.

“Absolutely,” he told her. “Yes, I’ll start heading there right now.”

“Fantastic! I’ll let security know. Just give them your name and ID when you arrive.”

The moment the call ended, Hassani ran a hand over the top of his head, his wide eyes snapping to mine.

He whispered, “Oh, shit.”

“Oh, shit.” My smile was so big, it ached my cheeks. “Baby!”

“I know.” He dragged his hand down his face before glancing at me again. “Damn. We gotta drive in together. You’re not done eating?—”

“It’s okay.”

I said it because I felt like I had to.

Because honestly?

It stung a little.

Our morning routine had never been broken.

And now, he was barely touching his breakfast, and I wasn’t even ready to leave yet.

“You sure?”

I nodded quickly, forcing a smile. “Of course, Hassani. This is huge . Are you kidding me?”

He nodded, chest rising and falling quickly as his eyes scanned the room.

“Go,” I told him, smiling genuinely this time. “Go to that meeting and shine like the star you are, baby. You got this.”

He stared at me for a long beat.

“Baby, go. Now!”

Hassani exhaled deeply, puffing out his cheeks as he let the breath go. “Aight, aight. Cool.”

I stayed at the kitchen table, finishing my breakfast.

Every so often, my eyes drifted to his untouched plate.

It was small, I told myself. Just one breakfast missed.

But as I sat there alone, the silence felt different.

A break in the rhythm.

It was probably nothing.

Probably.

Less than ten minutes later, Hassani was back in the kitchen, adjusting his tie over his slim-fit dress shirt and slacks, looking like a billionaire himself.

“You sure you’re good to drive into the city?” he asked, scanning the counter for his keys. “You got gas in your car?”

“I’m all set.”

“Aight, cool.”

He turned to leave, then cursed under his breath and doubled back.

Before I could blink, he was in front of me, crouching down and pressing a long, deep kiss to my lips.

I cupped his face, my thumbs stroking his jaw.

“I love you, A,” he whispered against my lips.

“I love you.”

Then he was gone, leaving me alone for breakfast—one of the rarest times that had ever happened.

* * *

During the summer, my car got more action, but even then, I mostly used my days to catch up on the rest I never got during the school year.

I couldn’t remember the last time I had driven to work.

The drive was smooth. Parking, however, was a nightmare.

It felt weird sitting in the car alone.

Without Hassani beside me, the ride felt quiet.

Lonely.

When he drove, my mind could wander as I ran my mouth in the passenger seat, while he leaned forward in his seat, checking his mirrors or cussing under his breath at whoever he swore had no business in the left lane.

I missed that already.

Still, I got to my destination safely, and hopefully, Hassani and I could still meet for lunch.

Then he could tell me everything about his meeting.

From what he had explained, Bryant Greene’s project was major.

Hassani hadn’t been given much detail for confidentiality reasons, but he knew the job would have him as the principal architect overseeing several projects.

I wondered if this meeting would finally give him more insight—whether today was the day he found out exactly what he was being asked to design.

I parked a few blocks north of my school, as usual.

As I crossed the street, I noticed a few teachers gathered outside near the entrance.

Unusual.