“Yeah. Porch.”
We slid outside into the cold. Max bounded out into the yard. The noise from inside dulled to a soft hum behind us. Mama’s Christmas wreath hung on the door, lights wrapped around the railing, a big old blow-up snowman in the yard that Braeden swore he was going to stab before New Year’s. My cousins had something against inflatables.
I stared at the hill in the distance. Kyleigh pulled her coat tighter. I stepped closer and tugged the lapels together for her, fingers lingering at her throat.
“You cold?” I asked.
“A little.”
“You wanna go back in?”
“A little.”
I smiled. “You good right here, though?”
She looked up at me, then back at the hill, then at me again. “Yeah. Surprisingly, I am.”
We stood there a second in quiet. Our breath made little clouds. Somewhere down the block, somebody’s cousin tried to hit a high note on “This Christmas” and failed publicly.
“You realize we just survived a full Christmas in Emancipation without you cussing nobody out but Shayla,” I said.
“That growth, man,” she bragged.
I laughed, then sobered a little. “You still okay with all of it? With… trying for real?”
She studied my face like she was making sure I really wanted the answer. “I’m okay in a way I didn’t think I’d ever be again. I like this version of my life. I like my kid having people. I like not hiding on my hill. I like…” She blew out a breath. “I like you. Still. A lot. Annoyingly.”
“Annoyingly?” I repeated.
“Can’t let you get too cocky.”
I grinned. “Too late.”
She rolled her eyes, but she didn’t pull away when I brushed a thumb over her cheek.
“I’m serious, though. We still got therapy to do. With your parents. With ourselves. We got to figure out where I’m sleeping for real, what we telling who, how we co-parent if you decide you wanna swing on me again,” I outlined.
She frowned at me. “That’s a lot of lists,” she said.
I shrugged. “I’m a list type of dude.”
“I noticed.”
I took a breath, let it out slow. “I’m ready for it, Ky. I want the paperwork, the hard conversations, the boring days, the schoolprojects, the teenage attitude, the early mornings. I want the whole package. I want you. I want her. I want this.”
Her eyes were wet, but she didn’t look away.
“I never stopped loving you, Kyleigh. Not one day in ten years. I tried. God knows I tried. It didn’t take. I love you now. More, honestly. ’Cause I know what it feel like to not have you,” I admitted.
She swallowed, throat working. For a second, I thought she was about to crack a joke just to save herself. She didn’t.
“I loved you then. I love you now. I thought I was done, but apparently my heart didn’t get the memo. It just kept holding space for you. Even when I was mad. Even when I was wrong. Even when I was scared.”
I felt that all the way to my bones. “You sure?” I asked.
She lifted her chin. “I love you, Jabali. I’m not promising I won’t panic and overthink and be insecure at some point, but I want this. I want you. I want us.”
I stepped in, close enough that her back brushed the cold railing, close enough to see the little flecks of gold in her irises.
