Chapter 49
Chapter Forty-Nine
NAJI
I was sitting quietly on the mat doing Pilates, in the middle of the living room, when I heard an unusual noise at the door.
It wasn’t the familiar sound of a simple knock or the delivery guy with that faint two-tap shuffle I’d come to recognize—that was something altogether different.
I froze mid-stretch, one leg awkwardly in the air like a ballet flamingo with trust issues.
My tics started fluttering before I could stop them.
“Knock-knock! Who the f—who the flowers is it?” I whispered, my shoulders twitching.
Lo and behold, Imanio walked in, both arms heavily burdened by an array of shopping bags. Those weren’t just any bags; they were luxurious, with thick, sturdy handles and unmistakable branded logos emblazoned across them.
As he shuffled through the door, I caught a glimpse of a moving truck parked outside through the living room window, its presence adding an air of urgency to the moment.
Imanio kicked the door shut behind him with his heel and dropped the bags onto the couch with a muffled thud.
He stood there for a moment, breathing heavily, as if he had just climbed ten flights of stairs.
“What is all that?” I asked gently, my voice laced with disbelief.
He glanced over at me, his expression a mix of exhaustion and something more complex, then jerked his chin toward the piles of bags.
“Look at it as an apology package.”
I raised an eyebrow, a mixture of intrigue and concern washing over me.
“From who?”
With a casual gesture, Imanio peeled off his shirt and tossed it over the armrest like it was an afterthought.
“Giselle.”
My throat made an ugly clicking noise of shock.
“I’m sorry… What?" I managed to stammer, disbelief creeping into my tone.
“Pops cleaned her out.”
I rose slowly from my spot on the floor, trying to process his words. I felt like I was caught between a whirlwind of emotions, uncertain if I needed to call Jesus for help or just sit back down and mind my own broke business.
“Cle-cle-cleaned her out how and when?”
“The marriage, the bank accounts, her clothes, her shoes, bags, jewelry—everything.”
I stared flabbergasted.
I knew that his father had filed for divorce, but I hadn’t anticipated the abruptness of its reality—much less the cacophony that accompanied it.
“So w-where is she staying?” I asked, my voice softer now.
“At a hotel,” Imanio replied, his tone detached and methodical, as if he were reading off a mundane to-do list. “And not the kind she used to book when she wanted to ‘get away from the commoners.’ It’s a real humble ass place. No spa, no valet, no imported cucumber water.”
“W-Wow.” My eyes widened in disbelief, then my nerves triggered a tic, loud and sharp.
“Not the Gucci ghost in the hallway! ”
Imanio exhaled through his nose like he was trying not to grin.
“Now, all—well, the majority—of that bougie-ass luxury shit she used to flaunt like she was better than you? It’s yours now.”
I turned my gaze back to the bags he had brought. They loomed like treasure chests, and I recognized several of the brands—couture items I’d only ever seen in the glossy pages of fashion magazines or draped casually on her arm at the family dinners.
"W-What will she say if she sees me wearing her stuff?”
A wave of anxiety coursed through me, chasing away any excitement I should have felt in that moment.
Imanio looked at me dead in the eye, jaw tight.
“Let her say something. Matter fact, I hope she does. She spent years throwin’ shade and smirkin’ behind wine glasses. Now she can watch you shine in what used to be hers. Difference is—you didn’t need to belittle anybody to wear it.”
He stepped closer and cupped my chin gently.
“This time… you’re not sitting at the table trying to be accepted, baby; you are the table. And if anyone has a problem with it? I’m here, ready to flip it over.”
Imanio reached into one of the smaller bags, his fingers sifting through the luxurious contents. He finally pulled out a stunning gold bangle and turned it in his hand thoughtfully, like an artist pondering his canvas, then slid it onto my wrist without waiting for my permission.
“This doesn’t even matter to her,” he murmured, his voice low and intimate, almost a secret shared between us. “Well… maybe it still does. But it’ll matter to you when you finally realize you deserve everything she thought you didn’t.”
I touched the bracelet lightly, feeling its coolness against my skin, and marveled at how beautiful it was.
Yet, beneath that beauty, there was a weight—a different heaviness that settled in my chest. It was a reminder that I was stepping into a new chapter, one fraught with both opportunities and challenges.
“What about her c-clothes and shoes? We don’t wear the same size.”
“I gave ‘em to Auntie Renee,” he said. “She likes to sew. So I told her to turn whatever she didn’t want into curtains or something.”
I couldn’t help but laugh.
“She already sent me a picture,” he added with a grin, “rockin’ a fur coat and one of them old church hats. Talkin’ 'bout, ‘ Look who made it to the top, nephew. ’”
I shook my head, overwhelmed with a mix of love, disbelief, and a touch of secondhand vengeance for the way my mother used to insist on style.
“I don’t know whether to k-kiss you or pray for your soul,” I teased, half-serious.
Imanio leaned in closer, wrapping his arm around my waist, that mischievous glint in his eye never fading.
“Do both… but wear the jewelry while you do it.”
I smiled softly. “I already am.”
We kissed lightly, and when I pulled back, I let out a shaky breath, my mind swirling with thoughts.
“Honestly… it’s beautiful, but something about it still feels like her spirit is gonna whisper, ‘That doesn’t go with your outfit’ the second I p-p-put it on. Or maybe… if I wear it too long, I might start speaking in her tone and judging people at brunch.”
An unexpected tic slipped out of me. “Satan’s earrings and a side of slaw!”
He chuckled low.
“I might need to sage it first,” I joked, and we shared a laugh that echoed in the quiet room. “But… thank you, baby. You’re the sweetest,” I whispered, my heart swelling with gratitude.
His eyes softened with sincerity.
“Only for you. And I know you may not feel comfortable wearing any of it today… but one day you will."