Out Handling Something
It’s been a week since the confrontation with my parents. A week of silence from them which I expected nothing less than them to be cowards after Calil’s threat. What bothered me the most was it had been a week of Calil being weird.
He was distant, secretive, and avoidant. Every time I ask where he’s been after work, he gives me half answers.
“Meeting with investors.”
“Extended office hours for students.”
“Errands.”
Errands where?
Meetings with who?
And when I press just a little more, he either changes the subject or kisses me like that’s supposed to distract me. It does but not for long.
This week? It doesn’t work at all. My mind is spiraling with every worst-case scenario possible. Maybe he realized I come with too much. Opportunistic ass parents who only see me when they need me. Trauma. Grief. A life that’s never simple.
Maybe loving me is heavier than he thought. Maybe the weight of me is more than he can carry.
As I prepare for the worst, he texts me an address I don’t recognize.
Papa: 1234 Hills Blvd. Meet me here. We need to talk.
My stomach drops.
We need to talk?
Oh. OH.
He’s breaking up with me. Of course, he is because whenever something in my life is too good to be true, it is.
I stare at myself in the mirror.
If he’s planning to walk away, he’s walking away from me looking like a fucking problem.
I slide into the strapless, skin-tight nude dress that hugs every inch of me.
The fabric molds to my curves like it was designed with my measurements in mind.
The neckline is clean and structured, the silhouette pure body.
I slip on my Louboutin Hot Chicks. Nude, sharp, and making my legs look longer than a one-night stand walk of shame.
My curls fall wild around my shoulders. Glossed lips. Soft glam makeup. If I’m getting dumped, I’m going to look so damn good he’ll regret it the rest of his life.
When I pull up to the address, I’m confused. It’s a newly built apartment building. Modern and sleek. Floor-to-ceiling glass. Clean lines.
What the hell?
I step out of the car and walk inside—heels clicking confidently against polished flooring.
He’s standing near the entry.
And he looks calm.
Too calm.
“Are you serious right now?” I snap before he can even speak.
He blinks once. “What?”
“If you’re leaving me, you need to get the fuck out,” I fire off. “I’m not moving. You’re not uprooting my life because you decided I’m too much baggage.”
His brows lift slightly.
“Zaria—”
“No,” I cut him off, voice rising. “You don’t get to act weird all week, lie about where you’ve been, then send me to some random address to ‘talk.’ That’s fuck boy behavior.”
His mouth twitches. “You think I’m leaving you?”
“What am I supposed to think?” I shoot back, walking toward him. “You’ve been secretive, distant, and weird,” I finish while pouting.
He doesn’t argue. He just turns and starts walking.
“Oh, so now you walking away?” I call after him. “Real mature!”
He pushes open double doors to what looks like a clubhouse space. I follow, fully prepared to drag his as some more. I was in battle mode until I step inside.
I freeze.
The room is breathtaking.
String lights draped across the ceiling. White roses everywhere. Candles flickering along the walls.
Then I look around and see them.
Caleb and Layanna. Ajaih, Maverick, and Knox. Dana and Ahmir. Amiyah, Calla, and James Jr. Lena’s parents and DJ. His parents, friends, and even some of my friends from work.
All smiling.
All watching me.
And against the far wall—
Huge white marquee letters lit with soft bulbs.
WILL YOU MARRY ME
My breath leaves my body.
I stand frozen. Mouth probably agape. I can’t be sure in this moment.
Calil turns slowly toward me.
Smirk on his face.
“You was just cursing me out,” he says quietly.
My mouth opens but snaps shut again.
He steps forward.
Dropping to one knee.
My heart stops.
He pulls out a small velvet box and opens it. A 2-carat pear-shaped diamond catches the light and throws it back into the room.
“Zaria Thomas,” he begins, voice steady but thick with emotion. “You stood in front of a ballroom full of people and declared who you are without apology. You fight for yourself. For me. For the people you love.”
My vision blurs.
“You’re not baggage,” he continues. “You’re brilliance. You’re fire. You’re where I find peace. You’re home.”
Tears spill down my face.
“I don’t want a future that doesn’t have you in it. I don’t want a life where I don’t get to wake up next to you, build with you, grow old with you.”
He swallows.
“Will you take my last name? Will you marry me and let me spend forever proving that you are chosen every single day?”
My hands are shaking.
“Yes!” I scream before he can even finish. “Yes!”
The room erupts with cheers, applause, and whistles.
He slides the ring onto my finger and stands just in time for me to throw myself into him. I kiss him senseless—laughing and crying all at once.
When I finally pull back and look around. I’m left with one last question.
“Why here?” I ask breathlessly.
He smiles.
“Because this building,” he says softly, “is yours.”
I blink. “What?”
“We had it built,” he explains. “A safe living apartment building. So that those transitioning can have a safe place to do so. For those in the trans community who need protection and stability.”
My chest tightens.
“In Lena’s name,” he adds gently. “Lena had an insurance policy and a savings. She told me to put every dime towards making your dream come true.”
I completely lose it. Sobbing unashamedly in front of everyone who loves me.
“You built this… for me?”
“We all did. The whole family invested in your dream,” he corrects. “And for Lena.”
I look around again. This isn’t just a proposal. My dreams made reality by my chosen family. I’m not only protected. I’m loved. I’m valued.
I wipe my tears and laugh through them.
“It’s called Soleil Sanctuary,” I say softly.
He smiles brightly.
“Between these walls, you can always find sunshine,” I whisper.
I look around the room. The name feels right. Warm. Safe. Light-filled. Everyone applauds again.
Calil kisses my forehead.
“You thought I was leaving you,” he murmurs.
I laugh wetly.
“I called you a fuck boy.”
He leans and whispers into my ear, “I can’t wait to feel you apologizing all over my dick.”
“I can’t wait to apologize like a proper good girl,” I reply as faint as possible.
He grins as he daps up the men and hugs the women while accepting congratulations.
I look down at the ring glittering on my finger before I yell, “I’m a fiancéeeee!” As all the women I love hug me and congratulate me.
I spent so many years waiting to be abandoned but now I’m about to be someone’s forever love.
The ring is still catching light every time I move my hand. I keep staring at it like it might disappear. Calil is driving, one hand on the wheel, the other resting casually on my thigh like this is just another Tuesday and not the night he built me a building and asked me to take his last name.
I twist the ring again.
“I don’t want a long engagement,” he says suddenly.
I blink at him. “Excuse me?”
He doesn’t look over. Just smirks.
“I’m ready to make you a Black. As soon as possible.”
My stomach flips.
“Daddy,” I laugh breathlessly, “we just got engaged.”
“And?” he shrugs. “You think I’m waiting two years to call you my wife?”
The way he says wife makes my pulse jump.
“You just like saying it,” I tease.
“I love saying it.”
He glances at me then, dark eyes warm and certain. “My wife.”
I look out the window to hide my smile.
I open Instagram. Ready to let it be known that I’m a future Mrs.
I post the first picture—me mid-scream, him on one knee, the marquee letters glowing behind us.
Second photo—the ring. Up close. Pear-shaped diamond flashing like it understands its assignment.
Third photo—one of our hands intertwined, one of him smirking in the driver’s seat like he didn’t just alter my entire life.
Forever sounds better with you. Engaged. #BlackLove #ISaidYes
I hit post and my phone explodes. Notifications stacking like dominoes. Yanna is first.
@DrBlackIfYouNasty: Not me crying AGAIN Welcome to the family officially sis!!!
Ajaih follows.
@AjaihInBloom: COME ONNNNNNNNN soon-to-be Mrs. Black!!!!!! I’ve been waiting on this!!!
Finally, Dana.
@MaisonNoireDana: The last Black is claimed y’all We need champagne STAT.
Amiyah’s reaction meant the most because we’d gotten close because of Lena.
@AmiyahTheMovement: I screamed so loud the neighbors checked on me. Love wins every time.
CJ and Milo couldn’t help themselves.
@CJTheBlueprint: another playa card turned in. Damn. Another one bites the dust. It’s getting dangerous out here. Congrats Aunt Z!
@MiloMovesSilently: Relax. It’s still 2 left. Draft season ain’t over. Applications open ladies.
I burst out laughing.
Calil glances over. “What?”
“You trending,” I say.
He nods calmly. “As I should be.”
More notifications flood in filled with heart emojis. Ring emojis. Black heart emojis.
Then I see a name.
@DameDontPlay.
I smack my lips and roll my eyes.
“What?” Calil asks immediately.
“My ex commented.”
He stiffens slightly. “What’d he say?”
I turn the phone so he can see.
@DameDontPlay: Congrats. Wishing you both the best.
He’s trying to be civil.
Trying.
Calil holds out his hand. “Give me that.”
I hesitate for half a second—then hand it over. His thumbs move quickly and then he hands it back. I look down.
“Stay off my wife page. Bitch ass nigga”
I gasp. “Calil!”
He shrugs. “What? He don’t need to be congratulating anything over here.”
I start laughing so hard I can barely breathe.
“You are insane.”
“And you love it.”
I do. I lock my phone and toss it in my purse before looking at him.
He built me a sanctuary. He claimed me in front of everyone. He’s ready to marry me tomorrow. Something in me shifts
Heat.
Arousal.
Want.