Chapter 18 Jabali #2
I ended up on the couch with Kyleigh tucked under my arm, Aziza sprawled half on my leg, half on hers.
The tree lights blinked softly. Outside the big front windows, I could see the glow from the hill in the distance where the big tree and a few of the pines were lit.
Not all the way, not every night, but enough.
“You still good with it?” I asked quietly.
“The lights?”
“Yeah.”
She thought for a second. “I’m… learning to be. One section at a time.”
I kissed her hair. “We can cut them off whenever you want.”
“I know. That’s why I don’t feel like I have to.”
She smiled. Aziza craned her neck to look up at us. “Y’all whispering about grown-up stuff?”
“Always,” Kyleigh said.
“You don’t wanna know,” I added.
“Yes, I do.”
“You wanna know algebra?”
She made a face. “No.”
“That’s grown-up stuff.”
“Then I don’t wanna know,” she decided, satisfied.
Ola Kate dropped into the armchair opposite us, a plate of pie balanced on her knees.
“Well, y’all look disgustingly happy. I guess the Lord really do work miracles,” she announced.
“He do. Even when we don’t,” Mrs. Amanda agreed.
She sat on the other side of the room, but her eyes were on us. Soft. Proud. Between the two of them, I felt like I was eight again, getting double-teamed by aunties. I didn’t mind.
“What you thinking about?” Kyleigh asked.
“Nothing,” I lied.
She lifted a brow.
“Okay, not nothing. I’m thinking about how this time last year, I didn’t even know I had a daughter. Didn’t know I was coming home for real. Didn’t know I’d be sitting on this couch with both of y’all, watching my people fuss over y’all like they been doing it forever.”
She looked at me, an entire conversation in her eyes.
“I’m thinking about how we still got a whole lot to fix,” I admitted. “But it finally feel like we got time to fix it.”
She nodded. “We do.”
Aziza yawned, huge and dramatic. “I’m sleepy,” she announced, burrowing into my side.
“Me too. All this growth. It’s hard work being emotionally available,” Kyleigh complained.
I laughed. “You been very available. And in chest pains from that growing heart. I’m proud of you.”
“Don’t get used to it.”
“I already am.”
Across the room, Daddy turned the volume up a little on the game. Somebody cheered. Somebody booed. Kids argued about which cousin cheated at Uno.
“Daddy?” Aziza mumbled. Her eyes were at half-mast now.
“Yeah, baby?”
“Next year… can we have Christmas at our house on the hill? And can everybody come?”
I looked at Kyleigh. She met my eyes, then looked at our daughter.
“If your daddy helps clean up, yes.”
“Wow,” I put my hand on my chest, slightly offended.
“What? Welcome to the family.”
I couldn’t even argue. My heart felt too full.
“Aight, then. Next year, we hosting. Tree, lights, the whole circus,” I told Aziza.
“And flamingos,” she mumbled.
“No flamingos,” Kyleigh said automatically.
“Absolutely flamingos,” I countered.
Aziza sighed, content. “Okay.”
Her lashes fluttered closed. Two minutes later, she was out cold, bracelet glinting as her hand relaxed on my chest.
“Yeah, she done,” I said quietly.
Kyleigh watched her, face soft in a way I wouldn’t trade for anything I could buy or build. Then she glanced around the room at the chaos, the TV, the cousins, the plates.
“You wanna take her to lie down for a minute?” she asked.
“I got her.”
I slid one arm under Aziza’s legs, the other behind her back. She didn’t even stir, just tucked her face into my neck on instinct. My chest damn near cracked open.
“I’ll be right back,” I murmured.
I carried her down the hallway to the guest room my parents had set up like a kid sleepover central.
Little pallets, extra blankets, nightlight in the corner.
I laid her on one of the beds, slipped her shoes off, pulled a throw over her.
She sighed, turned onto her side, bracelet clinking once as it settled on the pillow.
“Goodnight, little mama,” I whispered. I brushed a kiss over her curls and stayed there an extra second, just breathing.
When I came back toward the living room, Kyleigh was waiting by the front door, coat over her arm, eyes asking a question without saying anything out loud.
“Porch?” she asked, Max pacing beside her.
“Yeah. Porch.”
We slid outside into the cold. Max bounded out into the yard.
The noise from inside dulled to a soft hum behind us.
Mama’s Christmas wreath hung on the door, lights wrapped around the railing, a big old blow-up snowman in the yard that Braeden swore he was going to stab before New Year’s.
My cousins had something against inflatables.
I stared at the hill in the distance. Kyleigh pulled her coat tighter. I stepped closer and tugged the lapels together for her, fingers lingering at her throat.
“You cold?” I asked.
“A little.”
“You wanna go back in?”
“A little.”
I smiled. “You good right here, though?”
She looked up at me, then back at the hill, then at me again. “Yeah. Surprisingly, I am.”
We stood there a second in quiet. Our breath made little clouds. Somewhere down the block, somebody’s cousin tried to hit a high note on “This Christmas” and failed publicly.
“You realize we just survived a full Christmas in Emancipation without you cussing nobody out but Shayla,” I said.
“That growth, man,” she bragged.
I laughed, then sobered a little. “You still okay with all of it? With… trying for real?”
She studied my face like she was making sure I really wanted the answer. “I’m okay in a way I didn’t think I’d ever be again. I like this version of my life. I like my kid having people. I like not hiding on my hill. I like…” She blew out a breath. “I like you. Still. A lot. Annoyingly.”
“Annoyingly?” I repeated.
“Can’t let you get too cocky.”
I grinned. “Too late.”
She rolled her eyes, but she didn’t pull away when I brushed a thumb over her cheek.
“I’m serious, though. We still got therapy to do. With your parents. With ourselves. We got to figure out where I’m sleeping for real, what we telling who, how we co-parent if you decide you wanna swing on me again,” I outlined.
She frowned at me. “That’s a lot of lists,” she said.
I shrugged. “I’m a list type of dude.”
“I noticed.”
I took a breath, let it out slow. “I’m ready for it, Ky. I want the paperwork, the hard conversations, the boring days, the school projects, the teenage attitude, the early mornings. I want the whole package. I want you. I want her. I want this.”
Her eyes were wet, but she didn’t look away.
“I never stopped loving you, Kyleigh. Not one day in ten years. I tried. God knows I tried. It didn’t take. I love you now. More, honestly. ’Cause I know what it feel like to not have you,” I admitted.
She swallowed, throat working. For a second, I thought she was about to crack a joke just to save herself. She didn’t.
“I loved you then. I love you now. I thought I was done, but apparently my heart didn’t get the memo. It just kept holding space for you. Even when I was mad. Even when I was wrong. Even when I was scared.”
I felt that all the way to my bones. “You sure?” I asked.
She lifted her chin. “I love you, Jabali. I’m not promising I won’t panic and overthink and be insecure at some point, but I want this. I want you. I want us.”
I stepped in, close enough that her back brushed the cold railing, close enough to see the little flecks of gold in her irises.
“Good. ’Cause I’m planning on being around. Loud. In the way. All up in your business. Annoying you into happiness.”
“That sounds exhausting,” she said softly.
“Then, I’ll hold you and let you recharge.”
“That sounds amazing.”
She sighed, then. I caught it with my mouth, kissing her slow and easy under Mama’s porch light. Nothing wild this time. No desperation. Just us. Just here where it started.
Seemed fitting.
When we broke apart, she rested her forehead against my chest.
“What you thinking about now?” she asked.
“Honestly?”
She pursed those pretty lips. “I wish you would try to lie.”
“I’m thinking about how I can’t wait for next year. Christmas on the hill. Flamingos front and center. You in some disrespectful dress. Our daughter running around telling everybody what to do. You yelling about glitter. Me pretending I’m mad about it.”
“There will be no flamingos.”
I shook my head. “There will absolutely be flamingos.”
She sighed again, but it was the good kind. “Fine. One flamingo. In the back. Behind a bush.”
“Growth,” I teased. “I’ll mention the holy dinosaur later.”
She smiled against my shirt. “And between now and then, we just keep doing this. Loving her. Loving each other.”
“That’s the plan. I like our chances.”
Inside, Truth yelled for me about dominoes. There was a loud argument about who cut the pie crooked. Hyacinth’s voice floated out from someone’s phone, hitting the big note on “O, Holy Night” like she was singing just for us.
“I’on know about Christmas, Grindley the Grinch, but you shol’ stole my heart.”
Kyleigh turned up her cute little nose. “Corny as hell, Jabali.”
But she slipped her hand into mine, fingers warm and steady.
“Come on, Gangsta Claus. Let’s go back in the house.”
“I’ma kill Braeden,” I mumbled.
Then, I squeezed her hand, opened the door, and followed her into the light.