• • •

"Made a fucking million." The emphasis was followed by a slap on Wes' shoulder, "I couldn't believe it."

Work talk.

Laken had been nursing the same glass all night. The boss's fiancée couldn't be drunk. An oxymoron, considering she couldn't be seen without a drink either.

"I told you." Wes laughed, pulling her into his side, "Stick with me, that'll become a normal Tuesday to you."

It was odd, how they said those numbers casually. His friends made it so easy to lean into the 'eat the rich' mentality.

Another oxymoron. Laken was the rich.

She enjoyed the trips, gifts, the access— all of it. But it wasn't a necessity. Maybe because she'd experienced it, or maybe because she saw the other side of it.

"Laken, right?"

She turned slightly, meeting the gaze of a woman she didn't recognize. Mid-thirties, polished, the kind of smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Yeah."

"I've heard about you." The woman's eyes flicked briefly to Wes before settling back on her. "You teach, right?"

"I do."

"That's... admirable," she said the word as if she was trying out the way it sounded. "I could never."

Laken still faked her smile, "It's not for everybody."

"I just think" the woman continued, leaning in so only she and Wes could hear, "Once you're in a position like this—" her hand gestured vaguely around the room, lingering on Wesley, "—you don't really have to do that anymore."

There it was.

Her smile dropped. Only for a second.

Not long enough for it to be called out. Just enough for her to feel it.

Laken shifted her glass between her fingers, eyes settling back on the woman, calm.

"I don't have to," she agreed, "But that's the difference between passion and income."

The woman's smile held, but it changed—tightened just slightly at the corners. "Well," she said, straightening, "that's... good for you."

Wes let out a quiet laugh beside her, like the moment had amused him more than anything. "She gets serious about that," he added, squeezing her side lightly. "You're not convincing her otherwise."

"I can see that," the woman replied, already easing back into herself. "Well, it was nice meeting you."

"You too." Laken said.

The woman drifted off, heels clicking softly against the floor as she disappeared into another conversation.

Wes leaned down slightly, voice low near her ear. "You could've let her have that."

Lakens glanced at him, confusion lacing her voice, "Have what?"

"The idea," He huffed a small laugh, shaking his head. "You're so firm about shit."

"And you're not?"

"Not about things that don't matter."

That lady had no business sliding up to her, whispering about her being a teacher as if it Laken was breaking a law.

In their world, she guessed she was.

Wesley turned back toward the group as someone called his name, slipping back into conversation without missing a beat.

Like nothing had happened.

Laken stayed where she was.

Glass still in hand. Posture still perfect.

Exactly who she was supposed to be in a room like this.

• • •

The apartment was quiet when they got back.

Wes kicked his shoes off near the door, loosening his collar as he moved further inside. "You had fun?" he asked.

"Sure."

"That's not convincing."

She shrugged, moving past him toward the kitchen. "Work events aren't really my thing."

"Could've fooled me," he said, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge. "You fit right in."

Laken leaned against the counter, arms crossing loosely. "I know how to play a part."

He didn't push it right away. Didn't interrogate. Just stood there, thinking, the way he did when something wasn't big enough to call out—but not small enough to ignore.

"That lady earlier," Laken started, then stopped.

Wes waited.

"She was weird."

A small exhale left him, almost a laugh. "Which one?"

"The one who asked about me teaching."

"Oh." He nodded like he remembered now. "Yeah, she just likes to talk."

"Sometimes I wish that... I wish you would step in for me."

Wes set the water bottle down, and Laken could tell by his sigh that he was annoyed, "Do you wanna be independent or do you want me to police every conversation you have?"

"I didn't need you to check her," she said, more controlled now. "But those are your people— What she said was rude."

"There's nothing to fix there, Laken. She thought she was having a normal conversation. If anything was rude, it was that shit you said about passion and income."

Laken didn't have a response for him other than, "Okay."

Wes reached for his water again. The moment had passed for him.

It always did.

"I'm about to shower." He added, already turning away.

Laken stayed where she was, arms still crossed, the kitchen suddenly feeling quieter than it had when they walked in.

It was how easy it was for him to say it.

That shit, he called it. About passion.

There was none for them. Only dollar amounts. Like they Googled which career fields make the most.

Like none of it carried any weight.

She exhaled slowly, pushing herself off the counter.

For a second, she just stood there.

Thinking.

Laken reached for her phone, listening to the shower, the ringing.

"Hey, Lake."

"Hey, mama." She pressed the phone closer to her ear, "I need to talk."

Carmen listened as Laken replayed the night, replayed the dinner she'd had with Noah.

She didn't interrupt once as she poured it all out, only speaking when Laken was finished.

Carmen hummed softly on the other end, taking a second before she spoke.

"You didn't call me about the lady at work," she said, "You called me about Noah."

Laken didn't answer.

Didn't know how to.

"You sound confused, baby," Carmen added gently. "Not about what happened, but about what it means."

Laken let out a quiet breath, leaning back against the counter. "I'm not confused."

Carmen didn't argue it.

"Then you got two different things pulling on you," she said instead. "And you haven't decided which one you're listening to."

Laken heard the shower turn off.

"You got one man who fits your life," Carmen continued, voice calm, steady. "And another one that makes you feel something you can't really explain."

She'd have to end this conversation soon.

"And right now," Carmen finished, "you trying to act like you don't have to choose."

"But what if." Laken swiped at tears on her face, "I chose Noah."

"The Earth would keep spinning."

Laken was expecting something more, "That's it?"

Carmen let out a soft breath. "Baby, the world don't stop for our decisions. Good or bad."

The bathroom door opened down the hall.

"But what I will say, is don't make that choice when you're angry or sad. It's so easy to see green grass when yours hasn't been watered in a while."

"So hire a landscaper?" Laken wanted to soften the tension before Wes came looking for her.

"This is the only time you'll hear me say this." Carmen laughed, "There's a few things money can't buy."

Laken let out a quiet huff, shaking her head as she wiped at the rest of her face.

"Yeah," she muttered.

The humor didn't stick the way she wanted it to.

Footsteps moved closer down the hall.

"You don't have to figure it out tonight," Carmen added, "Just don't lie to yourself about what you're feeling."

"I won't." A small smile pulled at Laken's lips despite herself. "Goodnight, mama."

"Goodnight, baby."

Laken lowered her phone slowly, her reflection faint in the dark screen.

She straightened, smoothing her expression like she always did.

By the time Wes stepped into the kitchen there was nothing left to see.

• • •

The next evening, Noah held his phone steady, showing the house to them on FaceTime,

"That's my room right there." Trey squinted, "I can make the bathroom work."

"Nigga, you don't have a room."

"I'll be over Sunday to make a roast." Kelsey added, "Make sure you have a pot set by then."

Noah laughed, "I haven't even closed on this hoe yet. I just told her I want it."

"Fuck a roast," Laken inserted, "Let me see the backyard. I need one of you niggas out there on the grill."

A small smirk pulled at Noah's mouth as he turned toward the back door, pushing it open.

Finally, he'd found a home that would feel like his.

Not rented or temporary. Not somewhere he had to keep half his life packed in a bag just in case.

Something he could leave and come back to.

Trey sighed longingly, "Leave my key in the mailbox."

"I wouldn't give your ass a key to my dog's house."

The tour continued, everybody claiming rooms, access assumed—they knew it would be granted.

"That one is mine," Kelsey said quickly. "I'm not arguing about it."

"You not getting a room either," Noah replied. "Y'all visiting. Act like it."

"Visiting?" Trey scoffed. "We live here."

Laken laughed through the speaker. "Just make sure wherever I end up, it's clean."

Noah glanced at the screen, just for a second. "You already got a room."

"Hell yeah!" Trey shouted, "I like that shit right there, I need to run it on the hoes."

"So, basically he talking to me like I'm one of the hoes?"

Kelsey's laughed, "I think that's what he saying, friend."

"Game recognize game," Was Trey's reply, "I'm just adding that to my repertoire."

"Ouuuu." Laken dragged it out, "That's a big word for Elmo."

"Chill," Trey responded through a yawn. "Big engineer, big degrees—I been having shit. Lake just caught up, and Kels..." he clicked his tongue, "we not even gonna speak on that art degree."

Kelsey's middle finger appeared in the screen, "Fuck you."

Noah shook his head, "Good to know y'all like it." 

"Send the address," Trey said immediately.

"For what?"

"So I can pull up."

Noah let out a short laugh. "I don't even got the keys yet."

"That's not my problem," Trey replied. "Figure it out."

• • •

Amber had finally settled on the couch when the doorbell rang.

"James!" She yelled, looking towards Noah, "Go get your daddy."

"I'm coming."

Noah trailed behind his dad, wanting to see who was there. When the door opened, he leaned to the side for a better view.

A woman stood there with a container balanced in one hand and a bag in the other, a man behind her holding more.

"Hi," she said, smiling warmly. "Y'all just moved in?"

James blinked once, then nodded. "Yeah, today."

"I'm Carmen. We live next door." She looked to her left, the distance in between the homes, "Well not next door, but you know what I mean."

James laughed, "It's close enough."

Darren stepped forward then, raising the bag, "We brought y'all dinner. One less thing to worry about."

Something in James' shoulders eased immediately.

"Thank you. Come in— meet my wife."

Noah had to step back so that his father wouldn't bump into him, shifting out of the doorway as the couple walked in.

"Amber," James called, closing the door behind them. "Neighbors brought food."

Amber stood, going to greet them, "Thank you. Y'all didn't have to do that."

"Please, girl." Carmen said easily, already moving further inside. "The chef did it."

That brought forth a round of laughter.

Carmen looked around the house like she was already figuring it out. Darren was talking to his dad like they had something in common already.

"Is that your son?" Carmen asked.

"Yes." Amber motioned for Noah to come closer, "This is Noah."

"This is..." Carmen turned, pulling her from behind her dad, "Laken."

Noah watched as she ran her hand down the front of her dress, "Hi."

"She's adorable!" Amber squealed, "I always wanted a girl."

Carmen laughed, letting Amber guide her toward the kitchen. Darren followed James toward the couch, a game blaring as soon as they sat down.

"You wanna ride bikes?" Noah asked.

"I can't." Laken pointed to her dress. "I have on a dress."

"So?"

"My mama said girls don't get dirty."

Noah looked at her.

Then at the dress.

Then back at her.

"I have clothes in my room," he said.

It was said like it solved everything. And to two eight-year-olds, it did.

Laken followed him down the hall without asking permission.

Noah went into his closet, coming back with a shirt and a pair of shorts before handing them to her.

"Here."

• • •

They rode bikes until the street stopped feeling new.

Up and down. Around the corner. Back again.

Faster each time.

Laken's laugh carried louder than the wheels against the pavement, her hair slipping loose piece by piece until it didn't look like it had been done at all.

By the time they slowed, she didn't care.

When they walked back into the living room, the house felt smaller.

Carmen turned first.

And then—

"Oh my God."

Laken froze.

The shorts hung to her knees, Noah's shirt clung to her, damp with sweat, her hair completely undone.

"Laken—" Carmen started, already moving toward her.

"I rode a bike!" Laken said, talking over her, breathless. "Up the street and back and then we went faster and I didn't fall and—"

Darren laughed from behind her, cutting in. "You rode a bike?"

"Yes!" she beamed, turning toward him. "A real one. Not the little one."

Carmen looked between them—her daughter, bright and excited, then Noah, standing a few steps back, unsure if he was in trouble or not.

She exhaled.

"Okay," she said, a smile breaking through. "I'm so proud you didn't fall, baby."

Laken's smile was bright, stepping back to grab Noah's hand, "Tell them, Noah."

Words spilled out fast, too fast, too big, turning a simple ride into something way more than it was.

He almost crashed. She didn't get scared. They went all the way down the street and back without stopping.

Most of it wasn't true, but it sounded good.

Nobody corrected him.

As Noah leaned back into his seat, glancing at the house before he left, he realized those were the memories he was chasing.

It had to feel like that.

He wanted his children riding bikes, wanted to be standing at the neighbor's front door, making lifelong friends.

He wasn't there yet, but he was close.

• • •