Page 30 of Certified to Handle You 3

“I’m sendin’ it now,” he told me.

My phone buzzed a second later, and when I opened the message, it was just an address. There wasn’t no name of a place. Just a street I ain’t know and a zip code that had me sittin’ here confused. I put it in my GPS anyway, and when the route popped up, it said twenty-six minutes.

“You not gon’ tell me what this is?” I asked.

Couture said, “Not over the phone.”

I looked at the screen like he could see my face through it. “Couture, what is you up to?”

He laughed low. “Just drive, baby. I’ll be there when you pull up.”

We got off the phone, and I sat here for a few seconds before pullin’ out the parkin’ lot. My mind started tryna guess what he had up his sleeve, but I ain’t have enough to work with. Couture wasn’t the type to play too many games, so the fact that he wouldn’t tell me had me curious and a lil’ nervous at the same time.

The drive took me through parts of the city I ain’t really have a reason to be in much. The buildings started spreadin’ out more, and the streets got quieter the farther I went. By the time the GPS told me to turn into a neighborhood, the houses was sittin’ back from the street with clean lawns, fresh flowers around the trees and driveways that looked like people kept their cars washed just ’cause.

I slowed down when the voice told me I had arrived.

The house in front of me was a pretty two-story with cream-colored brick, black shutters and a wide front porch that wrapped just enough around the side to make it look expensive without doin’ too much.

The grass was cut neat, the bushes sat trimmed under the windows and the walkway had little lights along both sides like somebody had thought about how the house would look at night too. It had a double garage, tall windows and one of them front doors with glass on the sides, and the whole place looked like the kind of house a woman would pull up to and feel proud to walk inside.

Couture’s car was already parked out front, and he was standin’ near the walkway with a Black woman in a pants suit. She had a folder tucked under her arm, and she was smilin’ like she had been waitin’ on me too.

I parked beside Couture’s car and sat here for a second with my hands still on the wheel. I ain’t know what I had expected, but it wasn’t this. My stomach moved in a way I ain’t like, and I looked at the house again before I grabbed my purse and got out.

Couture turned toward me as soon as I stepped out, and that smile came on his face like he had been holdin’ it back the whole time. He looked good in a black shirt and jeans, beard lined, waves brushed and that watch flashin’ when he reached for me. I walked up to him, and he pulled me in with one arm around my waist.

“You good?” he asked.

“I’m good,” I said, then kissed him.

His mouth stayed on mine a second longer than I expected, and when he pulled back, he turned me toward the woman beside him.

“This is Ms. Ro’Chelle,” he said. “She the realtor.”

The woman smiled bigger and reached her hand out. “It’s nice to meet you, Sha’Nelle.”

I shook her hand and smiled back. “Nice to meet you too.”

I was surprised, but I kept it off my face as much as I could. Couture’s hand stayed at the small of my back, and I looked from him to the house, then back at him. He ain’t explain yet, and Ms. Ro’Chelle must’ve knew to give him room ’cause she just opened her folder and started tellin’ us a lil’ about the property.

The house had three bedrooms, two and a half baths, a two-car garage and a backyard that she said was one of the better parts of the listing. She talked while walkin’ us up the front path, and Couture kept his hand on me like he wanted to feel my reaction before I even said one word.

Inside, the house smelled clean and new. The foyer opened into a livin’ room with high ceilings, light wood floors and windows tall enough to let the sun fall across the whole space. The walls was painted a soft warm color, and the fireplace had a simple stone around it that made the room feel cozy without lookin’ old. I could see where a couch would go, where the TV would sit and how the room would look with music playin’ and somebody cookin’ in the kitchen.

The kitchen sat off to the side with white cabinets, a nice island, silver handles and enough counter space for somebody who actually knew what they was doin’ with food. Couture walked in there like he was already picturin’ himself in it. He opened one of the cabinets, looked around, then glanced back at me.

“What you think?” he asked.

“It’s nice,” I said, and I meant it.

It was nice. The whole house was nice. The floors, the light, the way everything flowed from one room to the next.

Ms. Ro’Chelle walked us through the downstairs first, showin’ us the half bath, a small room that could be an office and the doors that led to the backyard. The backyard had a covered patio, clean grass and a fence tall enough to make it feel private. I stood at the glass doors lookin’ out, and for a second, I could see Couture out there with a grill, music playin’ and his family over.

Then my mind moved without my permission.

I thought about Toni tellin’ me Renza had been lookin’ at houses. I thought about his bougie rich ass walkin’ through somewhere with his face twisted up, complainin’ about space, finishes, closets and whatever else he would’ve found wrong just ’cause that was him.