CHAPTER THREE
JACKIE
The room was finally still.
The Candles burned low as the last guests slipped out with hugs and foil-wrapped leftovers.
Syxe had gone hours ago, glowing, and exhausted.
Montana was at her side, protective as ever, guarding her baby bump like it was made of glass.
Now it was just Jackie, a skeleton crew, and the slow dismantling of the dream she’d built.
She moved through the space like a ghost in heels, eyes tired and tongue sharp.
She repacked the vases, folded the linens and crated the centerpieces.
The vines that once curled elegantly from the rafters now lay coiled in a sad heap by the trash bags.
In the corner, Max was knocked out on a velvet bench, his little white button-down stained with barbecue sauce, buttercream, and chocolate syrup.
His mouth was crusted, his bow tie undone and was stuffed in his pocket as his shoes were lost somewhere under the table.
Max had had a time and then some. He’d lived, fully and loudly at that reception, double-fisting cupcakes and “taste-testing” the sundae bar until Jackie finally cut him off.
“Now that’s a child who had a good ol’ nigga time. ”
Kormia said, yawning as she swung her purse strap over her shoulder.
“I can take him with me if you want and bring him back in the morning. It’s already late.”
“I thought you weren’t going home tonight,” Jackie asked. “I did too,” Kormia replied.
“But my dad just texted me and said he’s going to Atlantic City for a couple of days. So I’m taking my ass home while I got the place to myself.”
“And what’s going on with that?” Jackie asked.
“I thought Uncle Ant was staying with you for a few weeks. It’s going on six months, Kormia.”
“Well, what would you have me do? Throw him out? He still my daddy. He just down on his dick right now. I can’t abandon him.”
“Mia, respectfully, your daddy big grown. And it ain’t your fault he can’t keep his old ass out of jail. Not to mention he talk to a million bitches. Why can’t he stay with one of them?”
Kormia went quiet because she knew Jackie was right. Her daddy was getting over.
Kormia’s father used to be a big stepper in the city.
He had nice cars, big houses and a bitch for every day of the week.
He was a wolf through and through. Big Ant was like an urban legend in the city.
He made most of his bones doing B&E and pulling off heists.
He had a reputation for being ruthless and untouchable.
Jackie hated that nigga. He spent most of Kormia’s childhood either in a cell or in the street.
But this last case was federal, and they seized everything.
That’s how he ended up overstaying his welcome.
Jackie knew Kormia was probably too scared to ask him to leave—afraid he’d cut her off again.
Which was fucked up. Because he was her only living parent.
“Mia, I watched you hustle your ass off to buy that condo. It’s been your lock screen for years, and your daddy done completely took it over. You need to tell his bum ass to bounce.”
“I will… just not right now,” Kormia said.
Jackie shook her head, knowing there was nothing she could say to make her cousin see the light when it came to her no-good ass daddy.
“But nah, Max is going home with me,” Jackie said, shifting the conversation.
“He needs to get his ass in the tub. Real bad.”
“You sure? He look heavy as hell.” Jackie smirked.
“He is heavy as hell. But I got it. Thank you for offering, though, baby cousin.”
“Always.” Kormia gave her a tired little salute and headed out.
One by one, Jackie’s crew peeled off. By eleven, On Bended Bean was back to its original condition.
Exposed brick. Hardwood floors. The faint smell of vanilla, now laced with something heavier.
Nostalgia or grief. Jackie couldn’t tell anymore.
She set the alarm, locked the doors, did one last walkthrough, and stepped outside.
That’s when she saw it. An all-black car idling across the street. Her chest tightened for a second until recognition settled in. It was Him. Cassius. The driver’s door opened, and without a word, he crossed the street and scooped Max into his arms. Jackie didn’t argue. She knew better.
Fat Daddy barely stirred, his head falling against Cash’s shoulder, chocolate-streaked fingers curling into the lapel of his Tom Ford.
Jackie followed as Cash eased Max into the backseat, adjusting him so he wouldn’t slump too hard.
Then he swung the passenger door open for her.
“You gon’ make sure my car get back to me?
” she asked, voice low—tired but still sharp.
Cash nodded, sliding her seat back slightly, before Jackie climbed in.
The door shut with a soft click. Inside, the world quieted.
Soft leather. Dim lighting. Meek Mill 1942 flows playing low through the speakers.
The ride was quiet, just Max’s soft snores and the music humming in the background as they hit the e-way.
North Philly crept closer as the city blurred past. Jackie cracked the window, letting the night air brush her skin—cool, with the last trace of summer clinging to it.
And what a summer it had been. Between planning Syxe’s wedding and everything else, she’d executed.
For the first time, it felt like her event planning might actually be something.
Before it was just a hobby, and a few one-off gigs.
Now it was shaping up to be something tangible, that she could possibly make a living off.
Her eyes drifted to Cash. He looked tired.
His shirt was open at the collar now. The shades he wore earlier were gone, replaced with his glasses.
Jackie noticed he was taking the long way home.
She almost said something— but didn’t. Instead, she let herself sit in it.
Because something told her this might be the last time, they were ever this close again.
And that thought settled heavy in her chest. Jackie leaned her head against the window.
Her feet hurt and her heart did too. But she was used to that.
Tonight, had been long. Beautiful in some ways.
Bitter in others. Watching Syxe say “I do” to Montana felt like witnessing an answered prayer.
Syxe had been burned by love, trapped in a marriage that nearly broke her.
But somehow, she still found the courage to try again.
And God still met her there. Still gave her something real and lasting.
So maybe… just maybe— there was hope for Jackie too.