Epilogue #2
Elias slid up behind me, hands low on my hips, mouth at my ear. “You are floating, gorgeous,” he murmurs. “Look at what you built.”
“You helped me believe I could. You never tried to own it. You just stood guard while I opened every window.”
He hummed. “That’s the assignment. Protect. Provide. Peace.”
“Mm.” I lean back into him. “Say that in my ear again, but slower, so my spine remembers it later.”
He laughed quietly from the chest and kissed that spot behind my ear like it owed him rent. “Later.”
Jason slapped a hand on the reception desk.
“Aight, speech time! Before I cry and blame allergies again.” He pulled me forward.
“My baby sister took pain and turned it to product, turned fear to fragrance, turned survival to sanctuary.
She used to be guarded so hard my knuckles were tired from knocking.
Now? Sis is open like a sunroof and living the life she truly deserves.
“Baby girl, I always worried about you the most because you were always so sweet, kind, and genuine, and just wanted to love on everybody and see the good in everybody, even when they didn’t deserve your grace. I’m proud you didn’t let the ugly hearts of others harden that in you.
“Elias… lil’ bro. Thank you for treasuring my sister like the diamond she is, protecting her with your life, and cultivating the space for her to flourish and grow into the gracious beauty I always knew she was.
I sleep a little easier now because I don’t have to worry about her anymore.
Dre, that goes for you too, bro. Thanks for real. ”
The room mmm-hmms and claps. I’m crying for real now, but smiling while I do it. Leila dabbed my cheeks with a tissue, her own belly bumping into mine. “Hurry and sit down before we both pee,” she whispered, and we giggled like teenagers in church.
“Ribbon,” Jonell singsongs, producing silver scissors from nowhere. “Do the honors, CEO.”
I cut the gold ribbon across the front desk. The room erupted in applause, whistles, somebody’s auntie shouting, “Yes, Black woman joy!” The playlist flipped to Sade, then Jhene Aiko, then a chopped-and-screwed “Best Part,” and it was indeed the best part.
We scattered into the rooms like we live here—because we do.
Mama toured the Protective Custody suites and got quiet, like the soft was finally soaking in.
Daddy bought seven candles “for the deacons.” Miss Elyse told everybody that the Peace on Patrol bath salts healed her knees (they did not, but I’m not fighting church-mom marketing).
EJ spilled sugar scrub and said sorry before I even got there.
“You practicing accountability?” I ask.
And he said, “Daddy said that word,” proud as a medal.
Jazz leaned over a mixing table, blending bergamot and white musk. Chambers hovered without hovering. “That one smells like trouble,” he said.
“Then I’ll take two,” she shot back, but the smile betrayed her.
I slide beside Elias at the Holding Cell and scoop a swirl of Glow in Custody onto his wrist. “Rub that in.”
He smeared it obediently, sniffed, then nodded slowly. “So, this is what delicious humility smells like.” His eyes lifted to mine. “I’m proud of you.”
I let it sink in, the compliment, the weight of his gaze. “Thank you for not rushing me here. I used to think I had to pay for love with pain. You taught me it comes with security systems and spare keys.”
“Spare keys,” he repeated, smiling. “You always got mine.”
We end up gathered back in the lobby as the sun folds itself down outside the tinted glass. Folks lounge, soft and loud at once, Laffy Taffy jokes and tear-rimmed eyes. Jason is whisper-arguing with Leila about names. “If our baby is a boy, I will not name him after a fish, baby, the fuck?”
“Tilapia is biblical if you squint,” she said without blinking, and the entire lobby fell out.
“Girl,” I managed between laughs. “Hell naw. Get out.”
Dre was on a bench at Jonell’s feet, rubbing her ankles like he took a continuing ed class in Black husbandry. “Who needs a baby moon when you got a spa pass for life?”
“Period,” she said, then leaned toward me. “I’m so damn proud of you I could scream. Also, please name a candle Admissible Drip, so I can buy it in bulk.”
“Done,” I said. I’m not even playing.
Chambers cleared his throat near Jazz. “So, uh… You hungry? I was thinking we could—”
She flicked her eyes up. “Ask me like you mean it, Chambers.”
He inhaled and squared. “I want to take you to dinner. Tonight. And tomorrow. And any other night you stop pretending you don’t miss me when I’m late.”
Silence catches, then releases, full of grins.
Jazz blinked slowly, then let the smile out. “Pick me up at eight. Don’t be late.”
He exhaled like he’d been holding his breath for a decade. “Yes, ma’am. I’m coming for you, beauty.” He walked off with a wink.
That’s what I’m talking about.
The parents corral the kids for pictures. Miss Elyse held Jolani, who was determined to demolish a candle label with her gums. EJ wrapped an arm around my leg and leaned his head into my thigh like he remembered when we were all still scared. “Mama Nay,” he said, voice small and safe.
“Yeah, baby?”
“I like your store. It smells like naps.”
I break entirely. “That’s the nicest thing anybody ever said about anything I made.”
Elias stepped behind me, both arms around—not gentle, but secure. The weight of him made my knees forgive me. “You happy?” he asked into my hair.
“Yeah. Happy in a way that scares me sometimes.”
He nodded. “Then I’ll keep standing here until the scary part gets bored.”
I think about Kam for a flicker—not a haunt, but a history. I pray his uncle finds peace. My aunt doesn’t call Mama anymore, too ashamed by what the truth did, by how loud it rang. I put that down, and I only carry what’s mine.
What’s mine was this: a man who speaks vow with his eyes, kids who giggle like oxygen, a mama and daddy who stopped holding their breath when I started laughing again, a mother-in-law who calls to say “eat,” a brother who clowns danger from the room, a sister-in-law who smells like a love letter, a twin sister in a soft marriage, a sister-in-law and friend about to fall, and a building full of rooms where Black women get to be soft on purpose.
Jason tapped a glass with a butter knife. “Final toast before I steal my wife and make her promise never to wear Booked & Beautiful outside again.”
“Sir!” Leila bumped him with her hip, glowing in that way that meant somebody’s prayer got answered months ago and was currently sleeping under her ribs.
He grinned. “To Cuffed Glow & Order. To my sister’s stubborn joy. To a family that keeps expanding ’cause we mind our business and mind each other. And to Elias, who really the only man I ain’t threatened for talking to my sister crazy.”
Elias bowed his head like he was taking the benediction. “Appreciate you,” he said. Then he found my hand, threading our fingers.
The room swells. Someone plays Sade again. The scent of coconut sandalwood and lavender gets in my hair, my dress, my memory. And for a heartbeat that stretches out like a hammock, time slows. I only see him—Elias—and the way his pupils pin me to the floor in the sweetest arrest of my life.
“You glad you let a real one cuff you?” he murmured with a smile ghosting his mouth.
“I’m ecstatic,” I reply, eyes on his. “And I’m not making bail.”
He kissed me like the room’s a witness, and we need the record to reflect slow, sure, a seal on everything we said with our lives before we said it with our mouths. I taste lemon and safety. I feel the bass drum of his heart steady under my palm. My belly nudged between us like a co-sign.
“Alright, y’all nasty,” Jason said, throwing a napkin at us. “Kids present.”
“Shut up,” Leila said, laughing, leaning into him. “Let romance happen.”
Jazz glanced at Chambers and blushed for free. Jonell and Dre kiss like a good omen. Mama cries again, but this time, it’s a pretty cry. Miss Elyse fans her with a menu. Daddy pretends not to dab.
And me? I stand in the middle of the life I prayed for out loud. I built the rooms. He set the watch. Our people filled it with laughter. My peace serves time here now, happily sentenced, no parole.
Cuffed. And glowing. Forever.
THE END