“Happy birthday, bro.” He pulled Rolani into a hug that lasted longer than usual, saying more than words could. “I know I ain’t the best at saying shit, but... thank you. For everything. For holding me down. For taking care of my daughter. For being there when I couldn’t be.”
Rolani’s jaw tightened, and Kennedi saw him fighting to keep it together. “You ain’t gotta thank me, man. That’s what family does.”
“I know. But I wanted to.” Robin stepped back, gestured around the restaurant. “So tonight, I’m cooking for you. Whatever you want. I already got steaks ready, but if you want something else?—”
“Steaks are perfect.” Rolani’s voice was rough. “This is perfect.”
Monroe bounded over, hugging her uncle tight. “Happy birthday, Uncle Ro! I helped with the decorations. Auntie Ken gave me the vision.”
“You did good, baby girl.” He kissed the top of her head. “Thank you.”
Kennedi stood back and watched them—Rolani with his arm around Monroe, Robin heading back to the kitchen, the restaurant warm with candlelight and the smell of good food. She hadn’t fallen in love with Rolani. She’d fallen into all of this—Sunday dinners, the group chats, the inside jokes, the messy, beautiful chaos of people who loved each other through everything. Robin being gone, Monroe needing guidance, Rolani carrying it all on his shoulders. And now Robin was home, Monroe was thriving, and Rolani was finally letting himself breathe.
She got to be part of that. Got to witness the healing, the rebuilding, the joy.
That was the gift. Not the ring, not the house, not even the baby growing inside her. It was this—being loved by people who didn’t have to choose her but did anyway.
They sat at the best table in the restaurant. Robin brought out course after course—Caesar salad, steaks cooked exactly right, loaded baked potatoes, roasted asparagus. Everything was perfect, made with love.
“When did you learn to cook like this?” Rolani joked, cutting into his steak.
“Had some time to practice,” Robin said with a half-smile that held weight they all understood. “Figured I’d put it to use.”
Kennedi watched Rolani eat, watched him relax into the evening, watched him let himself be taken care of for once. The man who held everyone else up was finally letting someone hold him.
This was what she’d wanted—for him to feel seen, appreciated, loved the way he made everyone else feel.
When dessert came—a chocolate lava cake with a single candle—Monroe insisted on singing “Happy Birthday” at full volume while Kennedi harmonized badly and Robin recorded the whole thing.
“Make a wish!” Monroe said.
Rolani looked around the table—at his brother, his niece, his fiancée with her hand on her belly—and shook his head.
“I already got everything I want,” he said.
“Uncle Ro, make a wish.”
He closed his eyes for a beat, then blew out the candle. When he opened them again, he was looking at Kennedi.
“Thank you,” he said, quiet enough that it was just for her. “For today. For the museum, for this, for...” He trailed off, reached for her hand. “For seeing me.”
“Always,” she said simply. “I’m always gonna see you, Ro.”
Later that night, after they’d said goodbye to Robin and Monroe, after they’d driven home with his hand in hers, after she’d finally put her feet up like he’d demanded, they lay in bed together in the dark.
His hand rested on her belly, feeling RJ shift and kick beneath her skin. The house was quiet, a silence that used to make her anxious but now felt like peace.
“Best birthday I ever had,” he said.
“Yeah?”
“Hell yeah.” He was quiet for a moment, his thumb tracing circles on her stomach. “I got my brother home. My niece is happy. My girl planned a whole day for me. And my son is healthy and growing.” He pressed a kiss to her shoulder. “What more could I ask for?”
“A Corvette museum in your backyard?”
He laughed, the sound rumbling through his chest. “Nah. This is enough. You’re enough.”
“I love you, Rolani.”
