You were so over this conversation.

For the past twenty minutes, your friends had been arguing, convinced you were a sugar baby.

"I’m not!" you huffed.

"She pays for everything, takes you on trips, buys you expensive gifts—"

"That’s just how Cherri is! She’s generous!"

"Generous?" One of them laughed. "She once flew you to Italy because you wanted authentic pasta."

"She wanted to go, too!"

"Uh-huh. And last week, when she paid for everyone’s dinner?"

"She likes treating people!"

"She told the waiter not to let you see the check."

You opened your mouth, then shut it. "That doesn’t mean—"

The sharp click of heels made your stomach drop.

"Hola, mi vida."

Before you could react, warm arms draped over your shoulders, soft perfume surrounded you, and lips pressed a feather-light kiss to your temple.

Your friends were already smirking.

Cherri set a coffee in front of you, voice all teasing warmth. "Extra caramel, extra sweet. Just like you."

"You’re not helping," you muttered.

She slid into the seat beside you, crossing her legs effortlessly. "Helping with what, mi amor?"

One of your friends grinned. "We were just proving they’re a sugar baby."

Cherri arched a brow, amused. "Oh?"

"They’re in denial," another snickered.

Cherri smirked, fingers tracing slow, absentminded circles on your wrist. "Is that so?"

"Cherri, do not—"

She hummed, sipping her coffee. "Actually, mi vida, I had something to tell you."

Your stomach flipped. "What?"

"You know that little restaurant you love?" she mused, twirling a lock of your hair around her finger. "The one you always drag me to?"

You swallowed. "What about it?"

"It’s ours now."

Silence.

Dead. Stunned. Silence.

Your jaw dropped. "Cherri."

"It was going out of business, amor. I couldn’t let that happen," she said smoothly, pressing another kiss to your temple. "Now you can have their food whenever you want."

Your friends erupted.