Epilogue
Two Years Later
Peace doesn’t move quietly, yet it hums. It purrs through my bones like a motor finally tuned right.
It sounds like EJ’s laughter ricocheting down the hall and Jolani, our daughter, squealing every time somebody says her name like it’s confetti.
It sits warm on my skin the way Elias’s hand always finds my waist in a crowded room and anchors me, like you’re safe here. You’re safe with me.
And today? Peace got a key card and a staff badge.
I stood inside the front doors and just breathed.
The lobby caught sunlight and threw it back, honey-gold.
Velvet seating in chocolate and butter yellow hugged the walls, and a marble reception desk gleamed under lantern-shaped pendants.
Behind the desk, my logo curved in brushed gold: Cuffed Glow & Order.
Underneath, scripted like a wink: Where Peace Serves Time.
Mama wiped her eyes for the fifth time. Daddy’s jaw was tight in that way that meant pride was trying not to show out on his face. Elias’s mama, Miss Elyse, squeezed my hand and whispered, “Baby, you built this. Not just a business, but an altar to your healing.”
I swallow hard. Not the lump of old fear.
This one was sweet and hot. I made it out.
Past Kam’s shadow, beyond the hush in people’s voices when they thought I wasn’t listening, and past the shame that wasn’t mine to carry.
I hoped he was at peace wherever he went.
But my peace? Alive and here, my pregnant belly, standing in flats my swollen ankles can handle, arms full of the life I prayed for and finally let myself believe I deserved.
“Alright now!” Jason’s voice hit the air like a DJ drop. “Everybody clap for my baby sister and her glow empire before y’all have a thug getting all emotional and ugly crying in this mofo.”
Laughter rippled through the building at this clown. He had one arm slung around Leila’s shoulder, his other hand spread protectively across the small baby bump under her sunflower sundress.
“Don’t act brand new,” Leila said, smirking while she fanned herself with a menu card. “You already be ugly crying.”
“Ma’am,” he deadpanned, lowering his voice.
“I will toss you over my shoulder like a duffel bag. You lucky I let you out of the house smelling like that, wit’ yo’ sexy ass.
” He leaned in and inhaled the air dramatically.
“Is that Booked & Beautiful, or are you just naturally edible? Don’t answer that. ”
I snorted. “If you don’t stop flirting with your wife in my lobby—”
“Jealous? You better cuff your own glow and catch up,” he threw back, and the room hollered.
I waved for folks to follow me. “Come on, everyone. It’s tour time. Y’all about to see where the magic happens. Nelly, you’ll know it when you see it. Thanks for those, by the way.”
We passed the shelves glistening with my product line—matte black jars etched in gold:
Glow in Custody (Body Butter): For skin that refuses to do time in dullness.
Peace on Patrol (Bath Salts): Soak away the sirens. Patrol your calm.
Booked & Beautiful (Face Mask): Detained by luxury. Released in radiance.
Arrested by Aroma (Candles): Scents so fine, they’ll cuff your senses.
“Okay, labels!” Jonell cooed, her hand linked with Dre’s. Her diamond caught light like a petty flex. “Sis, this is sooo you. You are so welcome!”
Dre kissed her temple. “My wife designs joy for a living. It looks amazing, baby. I’m proud of you.”
Jason side-eyed him, smiling. “Dre, you keep that same energy at three a.m. diaper duty. Don’t let the Lord test your vows and you fold like a lawn chair.”
“Boy, please.” Jonell laughed, palms on her belly. “He’s been folding laundry and my cravings like origami.”
We slid into The Interrogation Chamber of espresso walls, amber jars flickering along glass shelves. Every candle label is a little joke with a little truth:
Miranda Rights (Eucalyptus Mint): You have the right to remain calm.
Case Closed (Coconut Sandalwood): File under: serenity.
Suppress the Evidence (Amber + Tonka): Hide the stress. Keep the glow.
The air was warm and low-lit, the light you confess in. Daddy inhaled and shook his head like he can’t believe a room can teach your shoulders to drop.
Next, we entered The Evidence Room—my fragrance studio.
Obsidian walls, silhouettes of black queens and kings in gold leaf, strings of Edison bulbs melting everything into soft gold.
Half-moon mixing tables wait with crystal beakers, bronze droppers, and lazy Susans labeled Base, Heart, and Top.
The statement wall graffiti said: We mix.
We glow. We carry our scent into the world.
Under it, our house tagline: Mix Bold. Smell Black. Stay Legendary.
Elias leaned in, voice low at my ear. “Professor Gorgeous.” A smile curled in his tone. “You gonna grade my blend or curve me in front of my people?”
I tilt my head back against his shoulder. “You pass if you remember benzoin is not vanilla and patchouli ain’t cologne, my love.”
He smirked. “I love when you talk chemistry like it’s foreplay.”
“Sir.”
“It is.”
The family cackled. Yes, he said it out loud.
We rolled to The Holding Cell—my bath and body bar.
Marble counters gleam under spotlights. Big apothecary jars of shea, cocoa butter, sugar scrubs, turmeric, oat, rose petals, lavender buds.
There are tiny spoons and gold bowls, and everything looks like treasure waiting to be stirred.
Quotes line the warm beige wall in hand-painted script: Self-care is not selfish.
Rest is a right. Softness ain’t weakness.
I didn’t make this just to sell products.
I made it for the girls who were told survival is the only thing we get to be good at.
Naw, to hell with that… We get softness too.
Leila drug her finger through a tester of my Self Defense butter (mango + kokum + vanilla bourbon) and sighed. “I’m not saying I want to lick my arm in public, but—”
Jason covered her hand with his. “Finish that sentence, and we leaving.”
“I have private rooms for that,” I said sweet as iced tea.
Everyone howled.
And then we stepped into the hush of the Protective Custody Suites—private rooms washed in candlelight.
Butter-yellow chaises with mocha pillows, floor-length drapes soft as a whisper, sound machines humming ocean or soft rain.
One room is laid out for private parties where jewel-tone velvet benches gather around a long marble mixing counter.
The other holds massage tables draped in white linen, diffusers sending small plumes of lavender into the air.
Mama’s hand slid into mine. “I remember when you slept on the couch with one eye open,” she whispered. “Look at you now, baby. Look at your peace.”
I could cry. I do a little. Then I inhale, put my owner hat back on, and pivot like I’m hosting the Oscars.
“Alright, y’all, make yourselves at home. We have hibiscus tea and cucumber water up front, playlists on shuffle—Aaliyah, Erykah Badu, and Sade slapped into a truce. If you break it, you bought it, and if you steal it, I got a fine ass detective on retainer.”
“On retainer?” Elias repeated, eyebrows up. “That’s what I am now?”
“My man, my muscle, my marketing,” I say, looking up at him, voice dropping. “And my peace… my everything, baby.”
His eyes do that thing, soft and fierce at the same time. He kissed my forehead. “Say less.”
Across the lobby, Chambers strolls in, balancing two pastry boxes like a peace treaty. Jazz is right behind him in a lemon-yellow jumpsuit, hair stacked like a crown. She catches her heel on EJ’s toy fire truck, and my heart leaps, but Chambers is already there, hand at her waist, steadying her.
“You good, beauty?” His voice is lower than usual. Careful.
She softens for a half-second, then rolls her eyes back into place. “I was till you started acting like chivalry got conditions.”
He swallows a smile. “You right. Lemme carry… whatever you need me to carry.”
The way he says it has an echo. Jazz looked away first, palms slick on the pastry box like that man’s eyes just raised the temperature.
I’m rooting. And I’m loud with it.
I slide over like I’m minding my business and absolutely am not. “Hey, family. Chambers, come here. Give me your ear real quick.” I tug him to the side of the candle wall, out of the flow.
He’s blinking like he’s already in trouble. “What I do, sis?”
“You not doing, brother,” I whisper. “That woman is on your team. Stop acting like you don’t know the play. She wants you, and she wants you to step the hell up before somebody else with matching energy does. You hear me?”
He drags a hand over his face, exhaling. “I don’t wanna fumble her, Nay. I’m not her ex—”
“And nobody said you were. But hesitation reads like fear. Unearned fear, at that. You want her? Move. Claim her with kindness, not control. But move.”
He nods once. That set of the jaw I recognize. Elias had the same switch. “Bet.”
Across the way, Jazz pretended not to be watching. She was absolutely watching. Her mouth twitched when he walked back and offered her a candle. Case Closed. She laughed despite herself. I grinned. God loved a soft yes.
Miss Elyse was holding Jolani by the hands so she could do her little pigeon-toed run in circles. EJ barreled through with Amira, cousins and bubbles, shouting, “Mama Nay! Come see my foam volcano!” It’s a sugar scrub with too much baking soda in a mixing bowl. It was a disaster, yet perfect.
I catch my reflection in the glass: yellow dress, small gold hoops, my baby bump rounding my center like a sunrise.
I thought about who I was. Who I am. The space between those girls.
The first one thought love was a test you passed by shrinking, the second one knew love was a home you built with a man who set the security system then handed you the code.