I nodded slowly.
“Maybe it’s your time now. You ever think that? Maybe you found someoneworthbeing scared for, and you get tokeepit.” His voice cracked. “You deserve this, Julian. You deserve to choose somebody and have her choose you back. I want that for you. You’re built for it. Sowhatever’s going on up in that head, I hope to God you get out of your own way long enough to let it happen.”
I looked at the muted game again. “Mhm,” was all I could say with a slight nod, absorbing everything he’d said for a moment.
“Who's got the long shot on this bet?” I asked eventually.
He looked at me. "What kind of question is that?”
"An information-gathering question. Who?”
"Tre. Ten months out. He thinks you're a lost cause. Khaz has four. Aunt Lorraine has Christmas. Simone lost last month. She’s secretly pissed at you by the way.”
I laughed. "And the closest?"
"Me. I had this month."
"Mm." I took a sip. "Tre's might be about to come into some money."
Zion sucked his teeth. “Bruh. You're not gonna sit on this just to make me lose. After I just gave you the best advice of your life?”
"Depends on whether your advice holds up." I shrugged.
He laughed then turned the sound back on.
17/
girl talk
alyssa
I heardSimone’s house before I made it through the front door. Music going, wine already being poured, and the warm chaos of what was turning into my new tribe. Taryn spotted me first and waved me deeper inside, acrylics flashing.
“Alyssa! Come get this glass and sit your ass down.”
I said hello around the room and took the glass she pushed into my hand. “What is this?”
“Liquid courage.”
Kendra, Marlowe, and Zenobia were already halfway into a bottle and talking over each other. Kendra was Aunt Lorraine's daughter, Marlowe and Zenobia were Uncle Reggie's, the whole female Wade cousin contingent out in force.
Kendra caught my eye and lifted her glass at me. Julian had introduced us a couple months back, saying we were cut from the same cloth, two lawyers, both a little too independent for our own good, and figured we'd take to each other. He was right, the way he was annoyingly right about a lot of things. One lunch turned into a standing thing, and we'd gone from polite, to her knowing more and more of each other’s business.
Simone came down the stairs with five white boxes balanced in her arms, tied with sage green ribbon, and our names in her careful cursive on the tags.
“Oh no,” Marlowe said. “Simone.”
“What?”
“You did too much.”
“It’s agift.” Simone set the boxes on the coffee table.
Kendra lifted her ribbon by the end and let it drop. “There is monogramming, Simone. In cursive.”
“What’s wrong with cursive?”
“Nothing’s wrong with cursive. Something’s wrong withyou,postpartum, monogramming pajamas.”
