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When Tyrone opens his front door, I ask, “Want to come dress shopping with me?”
He lets out a sigh, then mutters, “Let me grab my coat.”
I grin at him, and when he’s done locking the door behind him, I hook my arm through his. “I need a fancy dress for a ballet show. I’m going as Dario’s date.”
Tyrone’s eyes widen on me as we take the stairs down to the exit.
“Does that mean he knows you work for him?”
I nod. “Last night, shit went down at the ballet company. One of the ballerinas accused me of stealing her wedding ring.”
Instantly angry, Tyrone snaps, “The bitch.”
“Yeah. She slapped me just as Dario came into the office.” I shake my head. “He was so angry I thought for sure I was done for.”
“Why was he angry at you?!” he exclaims.
“No, not at me. He was angry at Mrs. Stafford and Vivian – she’s the one who slapped me.”
When we step out onto the sidewalk, we both notice Junior at the same time where he’s standing across the road.
“What are you doing here?” Tyrone shouts.
“Just keeping the street clean,” Junior replies.
“So weird,” I mutter as we head in the direction of the bus stop.
“Yeah,” he whispers. “It feels like they’re gearing up for shit to go down.”
Tyrone wraps his arm around my shoulder, and we walk a little faster.
“So, what happened after Dario walked in on the bitch slapping you?”
I continue telling Tyrone how Dario stood up for me and assured me he doesn’t care about the differences between us.
“Sounds like he’s madly in love with you,” he chuckles. “Look at my girl landing herself a big fish.”
“Dario’s not a big fish,” I mutter. A grin spreads over my face. “I swear he’s perfect. Sometimes, I wish he’d do something wrong so I won’t feel so imperfect next to him.”
“You’re good people, Eden. The man is lucky to have you.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” he murmurs, giving me a loving smile.
We don’t have to wait long at the bus stop, and soon, we’re heading in the direction of the thrift store.
“Feels like we’re going dress shopping for your prom,” Tyrone mutters.
I let out a chuckle. “Remember the ugly purple one I wore? I looked like candyfloss.”
“You looked pretty,” he argues.
“I always look pretty to you.”
“That’s because you’re my girl.”
I lean my head on his shoulder, feeling so happy nothing can ruin my mood.
