16. Egypt #2
I looked at him then, letting him see the hurt in my eyes. “You did fuck up.”
“I know,” he nodded. “I was scared. I let that fear speak for me. I shoulda held you and listened to you. But instead, I pushed you away like a coward.”
“You didn’t just push me away,” I snapped, sitting up straighter. “You accused me of trapping you. Said I did this shit on purpose. Like I was some groupie tryna cash in on your fuckin’ bank account.”
He flinched. “I said some wild shit,” he admitted, voice tight.
“But that ain’t how I really feel. You ain’t never been on no greedy shit with me.
I was lashing out. I ain’t have no control over anything else, and I took it out on you.
” I bit the inside of my cheek, hard. “I shouldn’t have said none of that,” he added.
“And I hate myself for it.” We sat in silence for a moment.
“Did you…” He hesitated, voice cracking slightly. “Did you get the abortion?”
I didn’t answer right away. Just closed my eyes and took a breath. “I made the appointment,” I whispered. “Went to the clinic and everything, but I couldn’t do it.”
His breath caught, and when I looked at him, his eyes were wide with relief. “Egypt…”
“I was gonna tell you,” I said, cutting him off. “Eventually. But I needed time.”
He nodded slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Thank you, for not going through with it. I swear I’m gon’ do right by this baby. Whatever it takes.”
“Even if that means doing it without me?” I asked softly.
He looked at me, chest rising. “If that’s what you need,” he said.
“Then yeah. I’ll still show up. Every day.
” I swallowed hard. “I still love you,” he added, voice thick.
“I never stopped. And I know I fucked this up in the worst way, but if there’s a chance to fix it…
I’m gon’ try. I just need you to let me. ”
I looked down at my lap, tears threatening again. “I forgive you,” I said. “But I can’t be with you right now. I’m still hurt. I don’t trust you like I used to.”
He nodded, accepting that. “How far along are you?”
“Almost ten weeks.”
He exhaled. “You been to the doctor?”
“Yeah. I found an OB out here,” I said. “But I’m going back to LA next week. I’ll see my doctor as soon as I get back.”
“Can I be there?”
I hesitated but nodded. “Yeah. You can be there.”
We sat in silence for a minute before he cleared his throat. “Your Nana set up the other guest room for me,” he said. “Said I should stay here… if that’s okay.”
I looked at him, really looked at him. And for the first time in weeks, the weight on my chest lifted just a little. “It’s okay,” I said. “But you stay on your side of the house.”
He smirked. “Yes ma’am.”
I stood up, brushing imaginary lint off my legs. “Goodnight, Nasseem.”
“Goodnight, Egypt.”
And with that, I walked inside, down the hall to my childhood room, and shut the door quietly behind me. My heart still aching. But not completely broken anymore.
The days passed slower in Memphis, but somehow…
they were starting to feel lighter. Nasseem had been on his best behavior.
Still annoyingly fine, still stubborn, but softer than I remembered.
He kept trying to flirt like I didn’t want to slap him just a week ago.
Like he didn’t crush me and leave me picking up the shattered pieces of what we had.
But I’d be lying if I said he wasn’t chipping away at my defenses.
My Nana was no help, either. She acted like Nas was her new favorite grandson, always laughing at his dumb jokes and asking him to open jars, lift things, or sit with her for a spell when she was bored.
She even started requesting him to bring her, her tea instead of me.
I was annoyed…and slightly charmed. Which was more annoying.
While he sat up under her like some adopted grandson, I was back in the studio, working.
Averi had sent me a new track a few days ago—slow but groovy, a little sensual, little vulnerable.
I’d been scribbling down lyrics all day between studio takes, letting my thoughts bleed into the page. It was called Love Me Loud.
I was halfway through the second verse when I paused the track, picked up my phone, and hit FaceTime. Averi answered on the third ring, camera angle giving me nothing but her perfectly laid lace and gold hoops. “Bitch, I miss you.”
“Girl,” I sighed dramatically, flopping back in the studio chair. “You got any idea how ghetto it is recording without Terri? This man is cool, but he ain’t her.”
“You ready to go home yet or nah?” she teased. “Royal said we miss you out here.”
Just then I heard him in the background, “Who you talkin’ to?”
Averi turned the camera slightly. “Your favorite Sister.”
Royal grinned. “Yo’, what up, Sis?”
“Hey Brother. I actually got something for you.” I turned the camera so he could hear the track I’d been working on and let it ride for about thirty seconds.
“That’s fire,” he nodded, head bobbing. “You want me on it?”
“I wouldn’t have played it for you otherwise,” I smirked. “I’mma send it to you. Add your vocals, send it back in a couple days.”
“Say less. Send me the stems.”
Once he stepped away, Averi was back solo on my screen. “So…how’s everything going?”
“It’s goin’,” I exhaled. “Nas and my Nana act like old friends. It’s lowkey cute, high key annoying. But I guess I’m glad he’s here. It helps.”
“You gonna get back with him?” she asked gently.
I didn’t answer at first. “I don’t know,” I said finally. “I won’t rule it out. But for now… I’ve made peace with him. That’s all I got in me.”
“Well, I love that for you,” she smiled. “I’ll see you in LA?”
“Yeah, we’re flying back together in a few days.”
“Okay good. Kiss my god baby for me.”
I blinked. “Bitch how? I ain’t that fuckin’ flexible.”
We both cracked up, still laughing as we hung up.
My studio session wrapped around eight. As I stepped outside into the evening humidity, I saw a sleek black truck parked by the curb, windows rolled down just enough for me to spot him in the back seat.
“Seriously?” I raised a brow as I walked up.
“Surprise,” Nas grinned. “Figured I’d take you out, just us. Nana’s eatin’ with your aunt tonight, so she don’t need me babysitting.”
I smirked, slipping into the back seat next to him. “So, you stalkin’ my family dinner schedule now?”
“Something like that,” he said, as the driver pulled off. “You look too good to waste that outfit on studio acoustics.”
“Stop flirting with me Nasseem.”
He shrugged. “I can’t help it; it’s like second nature.”
We drove to Memphis Jamaican Kitchen, a spot near Beale Street.
Real lowkey, hole-in-the-wall, but the smell coming from that back kitchen was hitting like a childhood memory.
We placed our order, but didn’t eat there, too many eyes.
A couple people had already recognized us, and I wasn’t in the mood for whispering and camera phones.
So back to Nana’s we went, plates in hand, shoes kicked off in the living room while we sat on the floor and ate out the cartons like college students.
“So…” Nas looked over at me, wiping his mouth. “You comin’ to the fight?”
I raised a brow. “You want me there?”
“You the only one I want there,” he said, dead serious. “Front row, cheering like a groupie.”
I rolled my eyes. “Don’t play with me. I’ll never be nobody’s groupie.”
“I’m deadass,” he grinned. “You gon’ come?”
I chewed slowly, heart beating in my chest. “Yeah… I’ll come.” His shoulders eased like he’d been holding tension all day. I glanced down, pushing some rice around with my fork. “I’m still mad at you though.”
“I know.”
“I’m still hurt.”
“I know that too and I’m sorry.”
I looked at him again. “You should be.”
He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. “Whatever I need to do to make it up to you, I will do. What do you need from me to fix it?”
“I don’t know,” I said, voice rising. “I just…I’m tryna figure it out.”
He nodded slowly, not pushing. Then quietly, he asked, “Do you still love me?”
The question sent heat rushing to my chest. I stared at him, mouth dry. “Yes,” I admitted. “Too much. Which is the most frustrating fuckin’ part. I want to hate you. I want to forget I ever let you close to me…but my heart won’t let me be great.”
He exhaled, chest rising and falling as he scooted closer.
His hand found mine, large and warm. “I love you too,” he said, voice low and heavy.
“With every fiber in my fuckin’ body. Ain’t a day gone by I ain’t missed you.
I’m sorry for what I said. I was a coward.
I let fear get in the way of something real.
” I didn’t move. I couldn’t. “I want to be with you,” he whispered.
“I want to raise our kid with you. I want to do this right. Be the man you hoped I’d be…
even if I’m still rough around the edges.
” His hand reached up, gently cupping my chin, tilting my face to his.
“I ain’t perfect, E,” he murmured. “But I’ll love you loud, if you let me. ”
Then, without giving me a chance to stop it, he leaned in and kissed me. It was soft, slow. Like a question he was hoping I’d answer with my mouth. And I did. Because I was tired of pretending. Tired of fighting how much I still wanted him.
My fingers curled around the collar of his shirt as he deepened the kiss, his hands sliding around my waist, anchoring me to him.
The room faded, the food, the noise. The months of heartache were all gone.
All that existed was this tension—this storm of want and longing, crashing down between us as we let ourselves get lost in each other all over again.
And this time…I didn’t stop it. I didn’t want to.