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I turned the stove down and glanced at him. “I just spent two hours grocery shopping with Selene’s crazy ass. That’ll fuck anybody up.”

“Nah,” he said, moving toward me. “You been in a way for the last few days. Tell me what’s wrong.”

Before I could respond, he had his arms wrapped around me again. I closed my eyes and pressed my cheek into his chest. How could I tell him that the man who’s supposed to be my client was also my ex, and I had feelings with nowhere to put them? I couldn’t be mad at anybody but myself for this. And now I had to stand here and lie to a man who loved the hell outta me.

“I don’t know, baby. Work is a lot sometimes. Maybe I should slow down,” I finally answered.

He kissed my head. “Then get Jela to take some of the load off for you. Hire somebody else. You workin’ yourself to death. I don’t like that shit.”

I nodded against his chest, but the guilt only got heavier. Emery thought work was the problem. Shit, I wished it was. I could delegate tasks. Hire more staff. Move meetings around. I could take a few fuckin’ days off. But I couldn’t move Juvie off my calendar.

“I’ll figure it out,” I whispered.

Emery rubbed his hand down my back. “You will. Just stop actin’ like you gotta do everything by yourself. You only one person, baby.”

I squeezed my eyes shut and swallowed the truth. If only he knew.

Emery went out to grab some frozen yogurt for dessert. It gave me some time to work on a painting I’d been trying to get right for weeks. The colors weren’t blending the way I wanted, and the texture was falling flat. Last week, I wanted to scrap the whole thing. But I couldn’t give up. If it was the last thing I did, I was going to finish this painting.

My phone buzzed in my lap. When I scooped it up, the name that flashed across my screen made me suck my teeth. It was a DM from Selene. It was a fuckin’ meme of The Joker and Harley Quinn with a caption that said, Thought you two hated each other… Literally us.

The Joker and Harley were laughing their asses off, probably on their way to fuck some shit up. But see, Selene’s ass was trying to be funny. I knew why she sent this shit. If anybody knew Juvie and me back then, they would know why, too. I messaged her back the middle-finger emoji, then locked my phone.

“Messy bitch,” I mumbled.

I thought painting would wash the memory away for a minute, but nothing could. I had to let it come and then release it. That was the only way.

Halloween night, 2011

Juvie picked me up, looking like he robbed a costume shop for the Joker himself: green wig crooked, purple suit, face paint already smudging at his jaw. I had my Harley Quinn getup on, pigtails and all, and he couldn’t stop looking over at me every time we hit a red light.

“You look good as hell. Ion know if I’m ’bout to let you outta this truck tonight.”

“Boy, drive. Tempress gon’ think we ain’t coming.”

He had the heat blasting since it was cold as hell outside, and I had my knees pulled up in the seat, bobbing my head to whatever was playing low on the radio. Juvie was in a good mood, cracking jokes the whole ride.

“That boy dressed as a damn banana. Why his mama do that shit to him?”

“Leave them alone, Juvie.” I giggled, smacking his chest.

He had a big ass cup of orange soda in the cupholder, and every time he laughed too hard at his own jokes, he’d knock it a little. I told him to slow down before he spilled that mess. Of course, he didn’t listen. We hit a pothole, and soda spilled over the side, soaking his pants.

“Shit! Juicy, grab me a napkin outta the glove box right quick.”

I popped it open and was digging through registration papers and old fast-food napkins when my hand caught on something. It was a second little latch tucked under the main compartment. I didn’t even think about it. I just pulled it.

A big ass gun dropped down. I froze, staring at it like it was gonna go off if I looked at it too long. My whole body went stiff; I couldn’t even make a sound. Juvie glanced over, and I watched his whole face change.

“Just close it, Juicy.”

“Juvie.” My voice came out shaky. “Why the fuck do you have a gun?”

“Juicy. Close the glove box.” He said it calmly, but his jaw was tight.

“No! Why you got this in here?”

He reached over without looking, closed the little latch himself, then shut the whole glove box and locked it. Then he grabbed my hand, threading his fingers through mine like that would fix whatever just happened.