Chapter 17 Kyleigh #2
“That’s Ms. Grindley,” his mama corrected. “Say hey.”
I nodded when he smiled and waved. It felt… nice.
Aziza climbed out of the face-paint chair with a glittery snowflake on one cheek and a tiny Christmas tree on the other. She looked incredibly pleased with herself.
“How I look?” she demanded.
“Like a holiday hazard,” I teased.
Her daddy kissed her forehead. “Like my favorite problem.” He was going to be so mushy.
I loved it.
She beamed and slipped her hand into his like it was the most natural thing in the world.
We wandered the little village together.
Aziza tried to drag us to every booth. Jabali and I argued about whether peppermint belonged anywhere near chocolate.
I still felt every stare, heard every whisper.
But it didn’t feel like I was drowning this time.
“Hey, Ms. Grindley, We saw the trees on the hill when we drove by. They real pretty. Thank you,” a teenage girl called.
I almost looked behind me to see who she was talking to.
“Thank you,” I said.
Something in my chest loosened a little more.
We stopped near the middle of the field, where someone had set up tall heaters and benches. Aziza spotted Zoriah with a group of kids and gave us the saddest, most hopeful look when Zo called for her.
“Go. Stay where I can see you,” I said.
“Yes, ma’am.” She took off, her pom-pom bouncing, cocoa held high like a trophy.
I managed to sound calm, but my nerves spiked. Lord, this was hard on my overprotective self. We watched her join the group. She did that little hover thing kids do, standing close but not inserting herself yet. Zoriah tugged her closer. Aziza lit up and joined their circle.
“She looks… happy,” I admitted.
“She is. Good job, Mama,” he answered.
He stepped a little closer. Our shoulders brushed. The smell of cocoa and his cologne did crazy things to my nervous system.
“You good?” he asked.
I thought about lying. “I’m… getting there,” I said instead.
We stood like that for a minute. Watching our daughter. Letting the town see us. Letting myself be seen. I had this moment where I realized I wanted to fight for this. For her. For him. For us.
Even if it meant coming down off my hill.
Mayor Alayna made her way over to us, smiling big and bright as all the lights strung around us.
“Kyleigh, thank you, thank you, thank you so much for re-thinking. You don’t know what it means to the town… to me, really. Those trees look good and the generators are safe, reputable, and as clean as they can be. I—”
“It’s okay,” I tried to calm her nervous rambling. I could tell how much she cared about this, and it was kind of humbling.
“You ready for the lighting of the big one tomorrow?” she asked happily.
I sighed. “As ready as I’ll ever be,” I admitted truthfully.
Jabali grabbed my hand, squeezed it. I looked up at him and smiled. I’d be okay. I knew that. With him by my side, everything just might be okay.
Of course, that’s when Shayla showed up.
“Wow. This is… adorable.”
I didn’t even have to turn to know it was her. My shoulders stiffened on reflex. Jabali tensed. His grip on my hand tightened.
“Shayla,” I said, pivoting.
I didn’t give her more than that. She wasn’t worth it. She stood there in a long camel coat, hair laid, lips glossy, eyes evil. And to make it worse, Donique was with her, dolled up like a snow bunny and eyeing us quietly. Shayla looked me up and down.
“That’s not necessary. I just wanted to extend my congratulations to Jabali. I guess he worked his… magic to get you to open up the hill. And Mayor, that paperwork we worked on to grant Jabari the deed to that heir property is almost done.”
She smirked, her implication clear. The mayor’s smile dropped.
The cocoa in my stomach went cold. There it was.
Out loud. In public. In front of me. So that’s how they were saying it.
I went very still. Years of practice kicked in.
I didn’t flinch. I didn’t argue. I didn’t cuss.
I just stepped away and took a slow sip of cocoa so I wouldn’t throw it in her face.
“Ky, baby—” Jabali began.
I shook my head. Not here. I’d had enough of public humiliation for a lifetime.
Donique shook her head. “Still on that high school bullshit, Shay? Really?” she said, surprising me.
Shayla shrugged. “What? I work at City Hall with the Mayor. I always keep her updated. Plus, I think it’s sweet.
He got his aunt to sign over that heir property, the town gets a Christmas show again, everybody wins.
I’m sure Kyleigh enjoyed what she got.” She smiled at me in a way that didn’t feel anything like a smile.
I was sick of Shayla. Had been for a long time.
So, this time, instead of picturing myself slapping her dead in her mouth, I did it.
Cocoa sloshed. The mayor gasped. Jabali grabbed me and satisfaction slowly wound throughout me, all while Mariah Carey sang “All I Want for Christmas” in the background and somebody’s baby cried.
My good senses returned, and I thought about my baby seeing Emancipation PD haul me off, like she wasn’t going through enough emotionally. What the hell was I thinking?
“I’m going to check on my child,” I said tightly.
But he wouldn’t let me go. I had to stand there, clamped in place, because I wasn’t about to make more of a scene. Shayla started with the legal threats. Jabali shut that down immediately, his voice low and dark and scary.
“Now, take yo’ ass on. Too old to still be messy,” he snapped.
“And you too old to be stupid. Merry Christmas,” she hissed, before stomping out.
Of course, he turned to me.
“Ky,” he said again.
I kept my eyes on one of the glittery letter “Rs” in the “Merry Christmas” sign. “Hmm?”
He stepped in front of me, forcing me to look at him. His face was tight, with anger at Shayla, and with something else that almost looked like panic.
“You gotta know that’s not what this is. Whatever she think she know, she don’t.”
The old me—the one from a week ago, from ten years ago—would’ve snapped first. Would’ve let every insecurity rush to the front. But I was trying to be different, trying not to be Kyleigh on an emotional hill.
“So, you not getting heir property if I play nice?” I asked. I was proud that my voice came out cool.
He blew out a long breath. “I talked to Aunt Alayna before I knew about Aziza. That part is true. She told me if I could get you to agree to the town using the bottom of the hill again, she’d sign off on a piece of land I want.
That was before I knew there was a baby.
Before I saw you again and realized I still…
” He stopped himself, jaw working. “I know it seems like another example of us starting on the wrong foot, something else I should’ve told you.
And I would have, Ky. I would’ve told you about the land and my plans—shit just been moving fast. But I’m not trading you for property.
I’m not trading our kid for some paperwork. I swear to God, Kyleigh.”
He tilted my chin, made me meet his eyes.
Those liquid brown eyes… they held so much, including the one feeling I wasn’t expecting: fear.
I recognized that it wasn’t because of Shayla.
It was because of me. Because he thought I’d believe what she was implying.
It hit me then, how deep this went for him, too. How much my ability to trust mattered.
I opened my mouth, but Donique spoke first, surprising me.
“Y’all look good together. For real. Don’t let nobody mess it up this time.
I want to apologize for the part I played in that before.
But they paid us, Kyleigh, and it seemed like so much money when Deon brought it to us.
They paid us to say—” she shook her head.
“I’m sorry, though. Ignore Shayla. She stuck in the past.”
They paid us, Kyleigh. I laughed softly, bitterly. I didn’t even have to ask who.
“Kyleigh,” Mayor Alayna began, “I was always going to give him the property. Always. This was just a way to try to persuade you—I hope Jabali knows he was never under real pressure. Listen, honey, those trees up there look beautiful. I’d love to light the big one, but we don’t have to.
Kyleigh, I should’ve never brought that pressure to you because the truth is, Emancipation will celebrate Christmas, will have and love Christmas whether we have those trees or not.
And if it would make you feel better, it can be the ‘not.’”
I wanted to answer, but my throat was tight, so tight.
I’d known that, too. Emancipation had happily rung in the Christmas season without those pines.
I tried to tell her, but Braeden helped Hyacinth Fulton step on a stage near the front of the village then.
Chills swept me as she effortlessly belted out the words of “O, Holy Night.” My favorite Christmas song once upon a time.
I looked at Jabali, knew he remembered as he moved behind me and wrapped his arms around me. We listened to Hyacinth.
A week ago, I would’ve chosen to believe Shayla. I would’ve pulled the plug on all of this. Lawyers, gates, a passive-aggressive, nasty email in size 12 Times New Roman font.
But that was before we bought the tree. Before the village. Before the ornament store chaos. Before the way he’d held our daughter while she cried and told her she was wanted. Before last night...
“I’m not mad because of her information,” I said eventually.
He squeezed me. “You not?”
“I’m mad because I almost lost control in front of my child. You might have to bail me out of jail for battery. Grindley the Grinch gon’ become Grindley Ali in the town whispers.”
He huffed out a breath that was half-laugh, half-relief.
“So you don’t think I used you?” he asked. His voice went quiet again.
I turned my head to look at him, studied his face. I saw the worry. The hope.
“I think that before you knew about Aziza, you were Jabali being Jabali. You saw a way to help your family, and you considered it. I think once you knew about her, and once you really looked at me again, it changed,” I said carefully.
He nodded. “It did. Fast.”
“I don’t think you’re playing me. You’re not perfect.
You’re still manipulative and bossy and you talk to people like they part of your mission briefing.
But I also watched you tell some boys at the gate that this hill is for my peace and your daughter’s safety.
I watched you tell our child she was wanted, even though you have every right to be bitter.
I watched your aunt’s face when she looked at us. ”
He frowned. “What about it?”
“She wants this for you more than she wants lights on some trees.”
“Look at God, folks talking about me in truth for once,” Mayor Alayna said.
“And I’ma cuss Shayla out. And you are absolutely right.
I love this town. I fight for them. But I would let those trees grow wild and dark for the rest of my life before I put that over Jabali’s happiness.
Over that baby’s stability. Over you being able to walk around here and feel like you belong. ”
I swallowed hard.
“I appreciate that,” I said quietly.
“You decide what you want to do with your land. For you. For your baby. For your peace. The town will adjust.” She patted my arm. “Cocoa good tonight. Y’all enjoy it.”
Then she floated off, snagging a councilwoman by the elbow and launching into some conversation about city budgets.
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. My chest felt tight, but not in a bad way. It wasn’t bad at all. In fact, I smiled a little.
“You okay?” Jabali asked suspiciously.
I stared at my cocoa for a second. Foam clung to the rim in a crooked heart shape. Of course.
“This feels like that part in the cartoon,” I said.
He frowned. “What cartoon?”
“How the Grinch Stole Christmas,” I answered. “When his heart grows three sizes and he thinks he’s having a medical emergency.”
“You think you dying?” He kissed the top of my head, held me tighter. It could never be tight enough.
“Nah. I think I’m living.”
He stepped in front of me before pulling me back in his arms and laying a kiss on me that had me reeling.
“That’s good, baby. All this growth! I’m proud,” he murmured.
I scoffed. “Growth? For the record, if Aziza hadn’t been here, I would’ve knocked Shayla into that cocoa stand.”
He grinned, full and wicked. “See, that’s the girl I remember.”
“Don’t get too excited. I’m trying to be reformed,” I warned.
“I’on need you reformed,” he said. “I just need you real.”
For a moment, I just looked up at him, loving the feeling of my too tight chest and the things his eyes were telling me. I hugged him, then sighed as he hugged me back, holding me like he’d never let go.
“Come on. Before I change my mind about this whole growth thing,” I said eventually.
He held out his free hand. I slid my fingers into his. His grip tightened, warm and sure. We walked back toward our daughter, cocoa in hand, under strings of lights that illuminated the Emancipation night.