“Wow. This is… adorable.”
I didn’t even have to turn to know it was her. My shoulders stiffened on reflex. Jabali tensed. His grip on my hand tightened.
“Shayla,” I said, pivoting.
I didn’t give her more than that. She wasn’t worth it. She stood there in a long camel coat, hair laid, lips glossy, eyes evil. And to make it worse, Donique was with her, dolled up like a snow bunny and eyeing us quietly. Shayla looked me up and down.
“That’s not necessary. I just wanted to extend my congratulations to Jabali. I guess he worked his…magicto get you to open up the hill. And Mayor, that paperwork we worked on to grant Jabari the deed to that heir property is almost done.”
She smirked, her implication clear. The mayor’s smile dropped. The cocoa in my stomach went cold. There it was. Out loud. In public. In front of me. So that’s how they were saying it. I went very still. Years of practice kicked in. I didn’t flinch. I didn’t argue. I didn’t cuss. I just stepped away and took a slow sip of cocoa so I wouldn’t throw it in her face.
“Ky, baby—” Jabali began.
I shook my head. Not here. I’d had enough of public humiliation for a lifetime.
Donique shook her head. “Still on that high school bullshit, Shay? Really?” she said, surprising me.
Shayla shrugged. “What? I work at City Hall with the Mayor. I always keep her updated. Plus, I think it’s sweet. He got his aunt to sign over that heir property, the town gets a Christmas show again, everybody wins. I’m sure Kyleigh enjoyed what she got.” She smiled at me in a way that didn’t feel anything like a smile.
I was sick of Shayla. Had been for a long time. So, this time, instead of picturing myself slapping her dead in her mouth, I did it. Cocoa sloshed. The mayor gasped. Jabali grabbed me and satisfaction slowly wound throughout me, all while Mariah Carey sang “All I Want for Christmas” in the background and somebody’s baby cried. My good senses returned, and I thought about my baby seeing Emancipation PD haul me off, like she wasn’t going through enough emotionally. What the hell was I thinking?
“I’m going to check on my child,” I said tightly.
But he wouldn’t let me go. I had to stand there, clamped in place, because I wasn’t about to make more of a scene. Shayla started with the legal threats. Jabali shut that down immediately, his voice low and dark and scary.
“Now, take yo’ ass on. Too old to still be messy,” he snapped.
“And you too old to be stupid. Merry Christmas,” she hissed, before stomping out.
Of course, he turned to me.
“Ky,” he said again.
I kept my eyes on one of the glittery letter “Rs” in the “Merry Christmas” sign. “Hmm?”
He stepped in front of me, forcing me to look at him. His face was tight, with anger at Shayla, and with something else that almost looked like panic.
“You gotta know that’s not what this is. Whatever she think she know, she don’t.”
The old me—the one from a week ago, from ten years ago—would’ve snapped first. Would’ve let every insecurity rush to the front. But I was trying to be different, trying not to be Kyleigh on an emotional hill.
“So, you not getting heir property if I play nice?” I asked. I was proud that my voice came out cool.
He blew out a long breath. “I talked to Aunt Alayna before I knew about Aziza. That part is true. She told me if I could get you to agree to the town using the bottom of the hill again, she’d sign off on a piece of land I want. That was before I knew there was a baby. Before I saw you again and realized I still…” He stopped himself, jaw working. “I know it seems like another example of us starting on the wrong foot, something else I should’ve told you. And I would have, Ky. I would’ve told you about the land and my plans—shit just been moving fast. But I’m not trading you for property. I’m not trading our kid for some paperwork. I swear to God, Kyleigh.”
He tilted my chin, made me meet his eyes. Those liquid brown eyes… they held so much, including the one feeling I wasn’t expecting: fear. I recognized that it wasn’t because of Shayla. It was because of me. Because he thought I’d believe what she was implying. It hit me then, how deep this went for him, too. How much my ability to trust mattered.
I opened my mouth, but Donique spoke first, surprising me.
“Y’all look good together. For real. Don’t let nobody mess it up this time. I want to apologize for the part I played in that before. But they paid us, Kyleigh, and it seemed like so much money when Deon brought it to us. They paid us to say—” sheshook her head. “I’m sorry, though. Ignore Shayla. She stuck in the past.”
They paid us, Kyleigh. I laughed softly, bitterly. I didn’t even have to ask who.
“Kyleigh,” Mayor Alayna began, “I was always going to give him the property. Always. This was just a way to try to persuade you—I hope Jabali knows he was never under real pressure. Listen, honey, those trees up there look beautiful. I’d love to light the big one, but we don’t have to. Kyleigh, I should’ve never brought that pressure to you because the truth is, Emancipation will celebrate Christmas, will have and love Christmas whether we have those trees or not. And if it would make you feel better, it can be the ‘not.’”
I wanted to answer, but my throat was tight, so tight. I’d known that, too. Emancipation had happily rung in the Christmas season without those pines. I tried to tell her, but Braeden helped Hyacinth Fulton step on a stage near the front of the village then. Chills swept me as she effortlessly belted out the words of “O, Holy Night.” My favorite Christmas song once upon a time. I looked at Jabali, knew he remembered as he moved behind me and wrapped his arms around me. We listened to Hyacinth.
A week ago, I would’ve chosen to believe Shayla. I would’ve pulled the plug on all of this. Lawyers, gates, a passive-aggressive, nasty email in size 12 Times New Roman font.
