I moved closer, resting a hand on her back. “You don’t have to explain. I get it.”
Her reflection met mine in the mirror, eyes red, face pale. “I just hate that it still gets to me.”
“Of course it does,” I said. “You loved them and they loved you, so you’ll always miss them and wish they were here; it’s natural, and it doesn’t go away.”
She nodded, breathing slow and shaky. After a few quiet minutes, she stood up straighter, brushed her teeth, rinsed her face, and gave a small, determined smile.
“Okay,” she said, exhaling. “I’m good now.”
“Take your time, and you keep a toothbrush and toothpaste with you at all times?”I asked her as I chuckled.
“Doesn’t everyone? Let’s go, I want to be with her,” she said. “Calla.”
We went back to the living room.
Calla looked up the second we stepped in, her expression instantly shifting from calm to alert. “Everything okay?” she asked, her tone protective and sharp enough to cut glass.
I nodded, glancing at Amiyah.
“She’s okay,” I said. “Just needed a breather.”
Calla’s eyes softened. “You sure?”
Amiyah smiled faintly. “Yeah. Just… a lot tonight.”
Calla reached out and took her hand, squeezing it gently. “We’re all feeling it. But you’re here now. That’s enough.”
I watched the two of them, the way they leaned into each other like they were drawing strength from a shared current. After the night we had, I was finally able to feel something closer to peace than pain.
The ghosts for the Black family were gone, and now the healing could begin, and we’d get the honor of seeing Calla bloom freely.
The night at Caleb’s stretched longer than I expected. The laughter faded into low conversation, then quiet. People started to drift out one by one, the emotional weight of the day catching up to them.
By the time the house thinned out, the air felt calmer. Calla was curled up with Amiyah on the couch, finally relaxed, their heads close together. I slipped outside onto the back deck to get a little air, the cool night breeze cutting through the heaviness that still clung to my chest.
That’s where I found Maverick, Knox, and Ajaih.
They were sitting together at the patio table, a bottle of whiskey open between them, city lights stretching out beyond the trees. Knox was leaning back in his chair, one arm around Maverick’s shoulders, while Ajaih sat across from them, legs folded under her, barefoot and comfortable in her skin like she owned the moment.
It struck me then how effortless they seemed. Not perfect, nobody is, but in sync. They looked like they felt peace.
“Mind if I join you?” I asked.
Maverick smiled, gesturing to the empty chair. “Never.”
I sat, poured myself a drink, and for a moment we just sat in companionable silence, the sounds of laughter faint inside the house.
Then I said what had been sitting on my tongue all night. “How do y’all do it?”
Maverick raised an eyebrow. “Do what?”
“This,” I said, motioning between them. “Be married, be three, be happy. Still be yourselves without losing who you are in it.”
Knox chuckled, that deep, easy kind of laugh that comes from someone comfortable in their truth. “You mean, how do we keep from killing each other?”
I smirked. “Something like that.”
Ajaih leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. “You really want the honest answer?”
