Chapter 8 #2
Leila cut her off smoothly, shades sliding down the bridge of her nose like the Holy Ghost tapped her shoulder. “Aht, aht. Jason, baby, get EJ before I get disrespectful in front of the youth. ’Cause why she walking up on Nay like she don’t know her throat already fragile?”
Jason moved fast, like he was well-rehearsed in emergency evacs. EJ was scooped up mid-lemonade sip, tucked like precious cargo. My baby clutched his kangaroo tight, hollering, “Get ’em, Miss Pretty!” like I had theme music queued up.
Elias leaned down just enough for me to hear, his voice dropping into a ragged Mortal Kombat growl. “Finish her.”
The crowd howled. Phones went up higher. Somebody yelled, “She ’bout to fatality this bitch!”
I turned slowly, gave Kam’s girl the same look I gave clearance racks: skeptical and unimpressed.
“Baby, I am not moved by your shade. Not from a chick who gotta squint when she read the side of her Plan B box. You should be a little more focused on who your man got bending him over when you’re not around.
I know your OB/GYN hates to see you coming.
You probably got a frequent flyer card at the free clinic.
Bless ya lil’ heart. I’d be mad as fuck too. ”
The crowd lost it. Phones were out. Somebody in the back hollered, “Worldstar!”
Elias bent over laughing so hard he slapped his thigh, his chain bouncing against his chest. “Lord, have mercy,” he gasped between laughs. Then he straightened, eyes hot and hungry, leaning into me so close his breath was warm on my ear.
“Talk yo’ shit, gorgeous… witcho sexy ass.”
He kissed my temple, right in front of them, like a period at the end of a sentence. The fair clapped. I swore the Ferris wheel lights flickered in applause.
Leila hollered, “Period!” and Jason just sighed, rubbing his temples like he already knew he was driving the getaway car if this turned into round two.
I smiled, pressed into Elias’s side, my sunshine bear hugged tight to my chest. Then I let the final dagger fly, my voice cutting clean.
“Tell Kam, next time he tries to flex, pick a side: top or bottom. ’Cause being confused is the only consistent thing he’s ever been.”
The crowd howled, voices carrying through the fairground like church after a benediction. Taleah’s face cracked, Kam’s girl grabbed her hand, and together, they dragged their delusion off into the night.
We were posted near the funnel cake stand, smelling like powdered sugar and grease dreams, when I felt a presence come up behind us; elegant, strong, like a Southern hush that wasn’t meant to be disrespected.
It was the kind of energy that made you check your posture, fix your tone, and clutch your pearls in the spirit just in case.
“Excuse me, baby girl,” she said, soft but steady, like she ran Sunday dinners and all the prayers that went with them.
I turned around, and there she was: Miss Elyse Edmonds, First Lady energy without the extra, standing there like she’d been poured from the same pitcher God used when He was feeling extra particular about grace and grit.
Burgundy curls pinned up under a straw hat tilted just right.
Bangles clinking like tambourines every time she shifted her wrist. She wore a flowy wrap dress the color of peach cobbler dripped in sunshine.
And those eyes radiated warmth and empathy.
They seemed like they saw everything, forgave most, and didn’t miss shit.
Eyes that made you want to tell the truth even when nobody asked.
“Oh… Hi, ma’am,” I stammered, feeling every bit of my nerves gather at the back of my throat like a school choir waiting on a solo. My voice was caught halfway between respectful and Lord, please let her like me.
She looked me over once, not shady, not slick, just intentional.
Her gaze lingered on the way Elias’s arm was looped around my waist like he never planned to let go.
My lip gloss was still a little smudged from that kiss under the Ferris wheel, like joy had wiped its fingerprints across my mouth and left evidence.
Then she nodded, lips pursing in that way seasoned women did when they peeped something that needed no announcement, just acknowledgment.
“He’s smiling again,” she said, folding her arms across her chest, “and that’s you.”
My breath caught in my chest like it got stuck on a praise note. Tears damn near tried to crowd my lashes, but I blinked ’em back like, not here, girl. Not by the damn funnel cakes.
“I-I didn’t mean to…” I started, tryna gather my humility before it leaked out of my mouth messily.
She raised one finger like, ‘hush now,’ and shook her head gently.
“Don’t do that. Don’t apologize for loving my son. Just love him right. That boy been walkin’ ’round with his heart behind his badge for years. But now, he looking like he finally letting somebody hold it again.”
I swallowed hard, her words hitting me like Sunday altar calls, convicting and comforting at the same time. She stepped closer, touching my arm. Her hand was warm, like it came with benedictions baked in.
“And tell him I said thank you for the dessert he dropped off yesterday. Red velvet bread pudding? That man know how to keep his mama happy and his woman fed.”
I laughed, and it came out soft and round, like a giggle dipped in good manners and powdered sugar. “Yes, ma’am. He said that was your favorite.”
“It is,” she said, smiling. “And I can tell you might be his.”
That part right there? It had my knees thinking about clocking out early. I stood taller, not out of pride, but because her blessing felt like it came with roots, like I was allowed to plant something real here. With her son. With this family. With this love.
“I am grateful you two have each other. Thanks for loving on my boys, baby,” she added, turning slightly to glance at Elias.
Her tone shifted just a smidge, a motherly pride wrapped in unspoken layers.
“Continue being good to my boys. Both of ’em.
Now, have Eli bring ya pretty self by the house sometimes to see me. ”
That was when my chest cracked wide open, not just because she said it, but because she meant it. She saw the way EJ clung to me like his peace knew my scent. The way Elias looked at me, like I was his new chapter, writing itself in real time. She didn’t just thank me for being there.
She thanked me for staying.
And just like that, her hand squeezed mine once before she walked off, shoulders squared and spirit serene, like she hadn’t just altered the trajectory of my whole damn heart with a few sweet words and that mama-wisdom magic.
Elias leaned into me, smirking like he knew something.
“She likes you,” he said, voice low, hood-soft, Sunday-sweet.
“She is sweet but scary as hell all at once,” I muttered, breathless, still stunned.
He laughed, mouth brushing my temple. “That means she really likes you.”
And somehow, just like that… I started to believe I might actually deserve this love, too.
The sky cracked open in color. One firework bloomed red and white, like peppermint candy getting baptized in glory.
Another burst gold, like Heaven’s own glitter sneezed across the stars.
The boom echoed low and wide, like God was clapping for us from the clouds.
Everything around me blurred: the families laughing, the kids screaming, the scent of turkey legs and lemon slushies clinging to the July air like sweat and nostalgia.
But his arms were the only thing I noticed.
Elias pulled me closer, arms snug around my waist like I was the safest thing he’d ever touched, like holding me wasn’t just instinct but intercession, a prayer answered in real time.
My back pressed against his chest, and I swore my heartbeat hitched in rhythm with the fireworks above and the quiet explosions going off inside me.
My body responded to his touch before my mind could catch up, like my skin had already made peace with him long before I ever admitted it out loud.
“Damn, look at that,” I whispered, my eyes tilted toward the heavens, but my soul had already tilted toward him.
He wasn’t watching the sky. He was watching me.
“Yeah,” he murmured, voice low, deep, like a promise tucked in the folds of the wind. “I am.”
Lord, have mercy.
My pulse rattled in my chest like a Congo drum gone rogue, each thump a reminder that this man had me nervous, giddy, and undone all at once.
Butterflies weren’t fluttering; they were full-on scrapping in my stomach, elbowing and hollering, Girl, this the one!
Heat crept up my throat, settling high in my cheeks.
Blushing. Me. Blushing like I was sixteen again, sneaking stares at my high school crush from across the gym floor during homecoming.
Only this wasn’t teenage fantasy. This was grown-woman, scarred-but-still-standing me.
Healed in some ways, cracked in others. And held, right now, tonight, like I was whole.
And still nervous as hell.
He leaned in, slow and certain, the kind of lean that told me he wasn’t guessing or hoping. He knew. No rush. No hesitation. Just him, unfolding steadily, like he was unwrapping something he knew he’d cherish forever.
My breath stalled. My knees nearly buckled. Then his lips touched mine.
That man kissed me like he was signing his name in cursive across my collarbone with his soul, like every curve and stroke carried weight.
My lips carried a map to everything he didn’t know he needed until now.
His mouth was tender but sure, heat and reverence rolled into one, and I swore when our lips met—soft, full, anchored in something too raw for language—I didn’t just kiss him back. I surrendered.