Page 28 of Love's Free Will

I knocked on her door balancing the bottle tequila as well as the food. It took her a minute, but eventually, she opened it, standing there in a pair of small-ass shorts and a tank top, looking confused as hell.

“Royal?” Her brows pulled together. “Why are you here?”

I walked past her, inviting myself in.

“Damn,” I muttered, glancing around. “Your place looks just like mine.”

She folded her arms, watching as I made my way to the kitchen, setting the food down. “Nigga, you didn’t answer my question. Why are you not at the studio?”

I leaned against the counter, eyeing her. “You tell me. Why areyounot at the studio?” Her lips parted slightly, but I caught the flicker of hesitation in her eyes. Bingo. I smirked. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

She huffed. “I wasn’t feeling well.”

I raised a brow. “You a bad liar Shawty.” She looked at me offended, and I pulled out a fork, handing it to her. “Eat,” I said, ignoring her attitude.

She stared at me for a second before sighing, grabbing her plate and moving to the opposite side of the counter from me. “You’re annoying.”

We ate in silence at first, the tension still thick in the air. Finally, I set my fork down and leaned forward. “So, what’s the real reason, Ave?”

She glanced up. “Real reason for what?”

“Why didn’t you come to the studio?” I pressed. “Did I do something?”

She looked at me for a moment, and for the first time since I met her, she looked… tired. Not irritated, not annoyed; just… tired.

She set her fork down, exhaling deeply. “My mama,” she muttered.

I frowned. “What about her?”

Averi rubbed her temple. “She called me for lunch. I had been avoiding her, I knew it was going to be some bullshit before I even went. As soon as I sat down, she started grilling me about you.”

I stiffened slightly. “Me? Fuck I do?”

She nodded. “You know the internet—and a few of her friends—think we’re together.”

I smirked. “You tryna tell me we ain’t?”

She rolled her eyes. “Royal, please.” I chuckled but let her continue. “She said I was ruining my reputation, associating with someone like you.” She hesitated before adding, “She called you a thug.”

I clenched my jaw. I knew I should’ve let it roll off my back, knew I shouldn’t give a fuck. But something about that shit made my chest burn.

I bit back the urge to call her mama a bougie-ass bitch. Instead, I exhaled slowly. “My bad. Didn’t mean to fuck up your family dynamics and shit.”

She waved a hand, dismissing it. “Please. If it wasn’t you, she’d find something else to complain about.”

I studied her. “Shit been like that with y’all?”

She nodded. “Yeah. My whole life.”

I tilted my head. “Why?”

She hesitated but then sighed, leaning against the counter. “My mama always wanted me to be her perfect little clone.” She chuckled shaking her head as if it was ridiculous. “She wanted me to be polished, obedient, traditional. I was supposed to go to law school, marry a rich man, and pop out a couple kids. Instead, I got into music and acting and decided I didn’t need a man to validate me. That didn’t sit well with her.”

I nodded, actually listening for once. It was weird. I never cared to hear people talk about their personal shit. But with her? I wanted to know. I wanted to understand.

“She’s just like my daddy,” she muttered. “Except he was never around enough to judge me.”

I leaned in slightly. “Never around?”

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