Chapter 48

Chapter 48
IMANI’s POV 

As Jay ran his mouth as we drove, all I could think about was the launch.

It took a lot of work, but it was finally here. 

But somehow, Jay had his mind fixed on something else entirely. 

“So you’re just going to sit there like you didn’t see last night?” he said, too excitedly, “Your favorite artist, mister anonymous, finally showed his face.”

I sighed. “Jay–”

“Do you know how many years I waited to see that man’s face? And my God, Imani…” He clutched his chest like he’d been shot. “That man is handsome.”

“He’s not all that,” I muttered.

That, apparently, did not sit well with him. 

He snapped his head toward, his eyes were wide with disbelief, “I’m sorry. What did you say?”

“You heard me.” I said. 

“Imani Rodriguez,” he whispered, horrified, “Youre going to look me in the eye and lie like that? Babes, That man is fine. Not everyday fine. Biblical fine. Moses-part-the-Red-Sea-and-let-me-drown-in-his-arms fine.”

I rolled my eyes, “You are such a whore.” 

“For that man?” Jay gasped, “I would be anything he wants me to be. A chair, a footrest. Hell, I would mount him like he was Mount Everest.”

“You need help.”

“Babes, the only help I need is him.” He said. 

I shook my head and turned onto the road leading to the shelter. 

The closer we got, the more something tightened in my stomach. 

This building wasn’t just a launch. It was a reclaiming. A resurrection of some sort.

“So,” Jay said, his voice softening, “are you nervous?”

He asked me that question before every major milestone in my life. 

And my answer never changed.

“Am I ever?” I asked.

“There’s a first time for everything.”

“Not with me.” I adjusted the bracelet on my wrist. “I can’t afford to be nervous.” 

I couldn’t afford to be anything but prepared. When I cowered under pressure, people got to define me, talk down on me. And that’s not happening again.

Jay hummed, nodding slowly. “I know. You always carry the world like it’s your duty. But I need you to remember something.”

I glanced at him. “What?”

“No matter how strong you are, and Lord knows you’re stronger than me, I’ll always be here. Even when you push me away, even when you say you don’t need anyone. I’m still here.”

The warmth that rose in my chest was sudden. Jay said things like this sometimes. Things that slid past every wall before I even realized it.

“Why are you being so sappy this morning?” I asked.

“I know you love me. Drop the act.”

I scoffed, but he smiled knowingly and looked ahead. “I’m proud of you, by the way.”

The words hit deeper than I expected. 

“Because I remember how hard it was for you to even see this place again,” he said gently. “Not to talk of walking into it and now look. You’re not just facing it. You’re taking something that broke you and turning it into something that’ll save other people. How can I not be proud?”

I didn’t trust my voice, so I didn’t use it. Jay didn’t push. He just placed his hand over mine and squeezed it.

It was a quiet, grounding gesture that meant more than anything he’d just said aloud.

Outside the window, the building came into view. 

The new signage gleamed in the morning sun. The fresh paint made everything look alive and hopeful. Security stood at the entrance, already holding back clusters of press behind barricades.

Jay squeezed my hand again. “Ready?”

Always.

When we stepped out of the car, security immediately moved in, forming a protective barrier around us as the cameras flashed and reporters shouted questions. I ignored all of it until I got inside.

The transformation was breathtaking.

The cracked floors had been replaced with smooth, polished wood. The walls no longer held stains and shadows but vibrant art pieces and  murals of resilience. 

It was exactly what I had envisioned.

A place of healing. Of hope. 

More people than expected filled the hall. And in the midst of those people, Dwight spotted me first.

“Imani!” he said, opening his arms. “My dear, this is extraordinary. You’ve done a lot with the place.”

“Thank you,” I said with a genuine smile.

“You have quite the roster,” he said, his grin widening, “even the mayor is here, I didn’t know you have ties with him.” 

He looked at me with questioning eyes. He wanted to know more. 

“There’s a lot you don’t know.” I smiled then moved away before he could ask more.

The mayor stood near the front, admiring a mural.

“Mayor Peterson,” I greeted.

He turned, smiling warmly. “Imani! This is impressive. You should be proud.”

“Thank you.”

“You’ll have full security support from my office,” He paused. “And Ricardo… where is he? I assumed he’d be here for something so important.”

“He’s not fond of the US,” I answered curtly.

The mayor chuckled. “Ricardo never liked it here, true. But I recall he once wanted to move here because of a lover. Long ago.”

I froze, but I kept my expression neutral.

I forced a light laugh, “Oh really?”

“He didn’t tell you about her?” He asked 

“Not at all.” I replied. 

“Oh, Ricardo loved that woman with all his heart,” the mayor said, shaking his head. “But she abandoned him.”

My jaw tightened. “Abandoned?”

“Yes,” he nodded. “But I’m glad she did. Otherwise, you wouldn’t exist.”

I forced a tight smile, “Please excuse me a moment,” I murmured, stepping away.

The moment I rounded a corner, fury erupted inside me like a storm tearing through. 

Abandoned?

The only person abandoned was my mother.

She came here alone. She was pregnant, with no money. No assistance. 

She built a life for me from nothing.

She died exhausted, fighting battles she should never have had to fight.

My hands shook as I dialed.

He answered quickly. “Mija–”

“Why would he say that?” I demanded. “Why would the mayor say she abandoned you? Why?”

“Imani–”

“Your family threatened her or have you forgotten? You let them chase her away. And now you have the audacity to act like she left you willingly?”

“I don’t understand–”

“If you were there for her, she wouldn’t have died. She wouldn’t have–”

My voice broke. I cut the call before he could speak.

Deep breaths.

Deep breaths.

I could not fall apart now.

This launch mattered too much. 

I inhaled slowly and as I turned, my breath hitched. 

He stood there, dressed in a black suit. Quiet. Still. 

“How long have you been standing there?” I whispered.

“Not long,” he said softly.

I nodded and tried to walk past him, but he caught my hand. 

Not tightly. 

Not possessively. 

“Are you okay?” he asked.

I stared at him, into those blue eyes. Asking myself the same question. 

Was I okay?

Had I ever been?

Would I ever be?

I didn’t speak.

I tore my hand from his and walked away.

Now was not the time to be emotional.

Emotions were for the weak.

And Imani Rodriguez was not weak.

Today, I would prove it.