“Julian. You fall asleep alone. You wake upalone. You have convinced yourself that is okay.” She looked at me the way people look at things they find sad without knowing what to do about it.
“I think you're capable of it,” she said quietly. “That's what's going to drive me crazy when I walk out of here. I actually think the man you'd be if you let someone love you would be even more extraordinary. I think whoever gets that from you is going to be completely undone.” She paused. “And I’m not gonna lie. I want it to be me. I understand you, Julian.”
I stayed quiet. There was nothing to be gained from trying to convince her of something I’d already been abundantly clear about. So I just let her talk. Get it out of her system.
“When you figure it out… don't take too long. Because I'm not going to wait forever.” She stared at me. “I mean that. I will move on. Iwillfind what I'm looking for. And the day you decide you're ready for something real… I might not be available.”
She said it like a warning. A woman who had made up her mind that she had read me correctly and was giving me a reasonable amount of time to arrive at the same conclusion she had.
I thought of a dozen things and said none of them. Because the kindest thing I had to give Sabrina West was clarity. She should not wait. She had my genuine wish that she wouldn't.
“Don’t wait, Sabrina. I’ve never asked you to. I don’t have what you need. Take care of yourself,” I said.
She sighed and shook her head. “You too,” she said. Then she left.
Saturday mornings had a rhythm.I threw on a blackWade Athletics Youth Leaguetee, hopped in my car and drove the ten minutes to Tre’s building, parked in the loading zone outside, and headed inside.
Tre’s penthouse door swung open before I knocked. He stood there barefoot, shirtless, and grinning. Behind him, two women scrambled to collect their things.
“You’re early, Jules.”
“I’m on time.”
I stepped inside as the first woman groaned, “Damn, Tre, you really kicking us out? Not even breakfast?”
He snatched a banana off the counter and handed it to her, then grabbed a chocolate-chip muffin from an open bakery box and gave it to the second. “Continental breakfast. Don’t say I never fed you.”
They laughed, half-offended, and shuffled past me to the door. One paused in front of me on her way out, and smiled. “Mmm. There’s two of y’all?Damn. You the big brother?”
She reached for my chest but I caught her hand gently and lowered it. “Sweetheart. Enjoy your muffin.”
Tre howled with laughter as they left. “You always so damn polite with your rejections.”
“And you’re always reckless with your invitations,” I shot back, looking around at the mess.
Empty bottles littered his counter. A half-eaten burger sat abandoned on a plate. I shook my head. “You know, if you keep running through women like that, one of these days you’re gonna catch a scandal.”
“Come on, Jules,” he groaned, rubbing his head. “Don’t start.”
“Then don’t give me material. These girls out here chasing Instagram clout and baby daddies. I bet you don’t even know their last names.”
He smiled. “Don’t front like you don’t cycle through ‘em. Let’s not act brand new.”
I folded my arms. “I don’t pick mine up from a club at two in the morning. I don’t bring them to my home. And I don’t keep two and three at a time.”
“You keep it clean and classy, I keep it fun and nasty. Same game, different jersey, Jules.”
I chuckled, shaking my head. “Go wash the pussy off so we can get to practice.”
He saluted, and jogged toward his room. I grabbed the empty bottles off the counter, and dumped them in his recycling. Dumped the abandoned burger in the trash and loaded his dishwasher.
Saturday morning youth practice had been a ritual ever since our nephew Zhaire was old enough to play sports. The Isaiah & Niecy Wade Foundation, named after our parents, funded youth programs across Lennox Falls for sports and the arts. Football, basketball, and soccer. That was us. My lane during football season was head coach. Zion on defense. Tre on offense. Raschad and our cousins Khairos and Khaz on skills and conditioning.
Twenty minutes later Tre came back out, showered and ready to go.
“Aight, Coach. Let’s go get these babies right.”
We headed out together. In the car, I queued up my playlist and let the beat drop. M.O.P.’sAnte Uprattled the speakers.
