And that’s when the front door opens.
“Oop,” Ajaih’s voice rings out from the entryway. “Not me interrupting.”
We all burst out laughing.
Calil stands to hug Ajaih before leaning down to kiss both Lena and me again.
“I’ve got family therapy,” he says. “Try not to have too much fun without me.”
“Impossible,” Lena shoots back.
I hug Ajaih next, and she squeezes me tight like she’s already decided I belong.
“I’m headed to Provocateur,” I tell them. “Gotta get ready for a long night of men begging for just one night,” I giggled.
I kiss Lena softly. Letting my lips linger just a second longer than usual. As I step out into the evening air—something inside me feels different.
Not fragile. Not fearful. Certainly not hidden. Chosen and finally safe.
MY LIFE, MY TRUTH
The second the door closes behind Calil and Zaria; I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.
My life has officially left the realm of simple.
I’m still replaying the kiss, the laughter, the love, when the front door opens again without warning.
Ajaih.
Of course she walks in at the exact moment we’re engaged in a lip lock that makes me want them both buried deep inside me.
I chuckle as I remember Ajaih stops mid-step. Her eyes widened with a pleasant shock. Then a slow grin spreads across her face. Now a smile is splayed across mine before her voice snaps me out of my thoughts.
“Ohhh,” she sings, looking at me goofily. “I see y’all finally stopped playing games, huh.”
I freeze.
“Ajaih,” I start, already feeling my pulse in my throat.
She waves a hand dismissively. “Girl please. You think I haven’t seen the way y’all been looking at each other for months?”
That does nothing to calm me.
With everyone else gone, Ajaih settles onto the couch across from me, crossing her legs like she’s here for a full debrief.
“Well?” she prompts.
I tuck my legs beneath me. I’m suddenly nervous in a way that feels ridiculous considering everything else I’ve survived. “I’m scared.”
Her brows lift. “Of what.”
“Of telling Mama. Of telling my dad.”
She leans back, studying me. “Why.”
“You know why,” I mutter. “There’s always been pressure on me to be perfect. To be an example of perfection. The preacher’s daughter who doesn’t color outside the lines.”
Ajaih rolls her eyes. “Lena.”
