“I’m supporting my man in style,” I said. “And you know he did.”
“I love love for you, bestie. I don’t want to say I told you so… but I told you so.”
“What was the wager?” I asked jokingly as I opened my purse.
“Shut up. But seriously, sis, look at this shit. Look,” she said, pointing at the floor through the glass. “This view is insane.”
It really was. The whole court glowed under the lights, players running drills, the crowd building loud pockets of sound every time DaVinci’s face popped up on the jumbotron. But the suite felt like its own little world, quiet enough for me to breathe, full enough for me not to feel alone.
“I can’t believe this is our life,” I said, shaking my head.
“I know, girl. How are you feeling? For real.”
“So much better.” And I meant it. “I’ve been resting, listening to my body, letting that man love me without fighting him about it. And I love not having anywhere to be. I’ll go back to work eventually, or maybe I won’t. I think my balm can take off if I give it my attention. And I want to help DaVinci with the foundation. I just… want to do what I want.”
Tess lit up. “I love it. And I support you, all the way.”
“Thank you, sis. What’s up with you?”
“Oh nothing girl,” she shrugged, and that little fake nonchalant shoulder roll irritated my spirit.
“Don’t piss me off, Quintessa.” I crossed my arms. “You didn’t ride in with Langston?”
“Yeah, and that’s my business though,” she said, smirking. “We can talk about me later.”
I gave her a look, and she laughed before grabbing a plate and handing me one.
The game started, and twenty minutes in, I was standing with one hand on the glass, screaming my man’s name like I wasn’t in a room full of adults.
“C’mon, baby! Yeah, that’s what the fuck I’m talkin’ about!” I yelled as DaVinci hit a clean jumper.
Tess was hollering beside me. Langston was in the corner pretending not to be amused. Omni had finally made it and was halfway through a lemonade slush, talking trash about the other team like she was courtside, deaf to the fact that we were three stories up. Even his parents had come. Sametra was still on bedrest, so they couldn’t make it.
We came together and snapped a selfie, holding our drinks up so you could see the ice hitting just right, the jewelry sparkling under the suite lights. Not one of us had half-stepped tonight. I was giving very much “basketball wife.”
'Type Shit' by Future blasted through the speakers, the bass rolling up my spine. We leaned in to record a quick story, lip-syncing loudly, laughing louder, feeling freer than I had in weeks.
I just tricked off, I don’t just usually do this type of shit / Pockets racked up, all blue type shit…
The beat dropped, and I dropped right with it, hips swaying, drink in hand. I was just… here. Living. Glowing. And loving on my man from a distance while he did what he was born to do. I was watching him—that slow, stupid smirk when he shook his head after a clean shot—so hard that I didn’t even clock the shift in the room behind me. Didn’t hear the door open. Didn’t feel the way the air stilled.
I was mid-yell when DaVinci’s voice cut through the arena speakers.
“Halo. Baby. Turn around.”
A warm current rolled through me. That wasn’t normal. That wasn’t part of the game.
I spun around, confused, and—
Time stopped.
“Daddy?” I whispered, the word falling out of my mouth before I even meant to say it.
Tess’s arm slipped from mine instantly.
Omni froze mid-sip, cup hanging in the air.
And my father… my actual father… was standing six feet away from me, eyes glassy, hands shaking just slightly, looking like a man who had been waiting a long time for this moment.
