18. Shanay
Eighteen
Shanay
By the time Mike parks in front of my uncle’s place, I’m already sweating.
“Do you want me to go in first?” I ask as he kills the engine.
“No,” he says.
Simple. Final. Mike.
He walks up the steps like he’s headed into a combat zone.
I follow, heart pounding.
—-
My dad’s sitting with his arms crossed. Uncle Eddie’s leaning against the wall with a toothpick in his mouth.
Both of them have that expression. The one I’ve seen at cookouts, graduations, and once during prom when I came home five minutes late.
It says: We’re not mad. Just not buying your shit yet.
“Evenin’,” Uncle Eddie says, slow.
“Hey.” Mike nods.
Dad jerks his chin. “You wanted a word?”
Mike looks at me.
I take the hint and head inside.
But I pause just behind the door. Not to spy. Just… to make sure no one throws a punch.
—-
The silence stretches a little too long.
Then Mike says, “I love your girl.”
My knees go weak.
“I tried to stay away. Thought I was too old. Thought maybe she deserved someone cleaner, smoother.”
There’s a pause.
“I was wrong. She deserves someone who sees her. Who shows up. Who keeps her warm and safe and loved every goddamn day. And that’s me.”
I have to press a hand to my chest.
Because damn.
Then I hear him add, low and steady, “I’m not asking you to give her to me. I’m telling you I’m not walking away.”
The air shifts.
Then Uncle Eddie chuckles. “Goddamn Army.”
Dad speaks next. “You really think you can make her happy?”
“I know I can,” Mike says without hesitation. “I know what she likes for breakfast. I know how she likes her tea. I know she wakes up smiling if you hold her all night. I know how smart she is. How stubborn. How she hums when she’s working. And how beautiful she is inside and out.”
Uncle Eddie whistles low. “Damn.”
Mike adds, voice firm: “I’m not here for a fling. Or a phase. I’m here for forever.”
—-
I step outside.
I don’t say a word.
Just slide up next to him and slip my hand into his.
He glances down. His thumb rubs my knuckles.
Uncle Eddie straightens. Dad stands.
And then—with only a little reluctance—they nod.
“You treat her right,” Dad says.
“Always,” Mike answers.
“And you keep showing up,” Uncle Eddie adds.
Mike’s eyes meet theirs. “Every day. ’Til I stop breathing.”
My breath catches, my heart swells, and just like that, I know we’ll be good.