Chapter 55
For better or worthe
It had been a month since Junie’s birthday, and she had finally been back home for a solid week after I had to practically talk, beg, and reason her into coming back.
She was my heart for real—even if I loved her stubborn, chaotic ass to death.
To celebrate, my mom put together an intimate family dinner, keeping it strictly to the immediate circle.
Clo and Golden were posted up at the far end of the long mahogany table, looking effortlessly sharp.
Silk rolled in solo, while Dream arrived wrapped around Trent’s arm, and Mercedes even pulled up with Rizz in tow.
At the head of the table, my mom was sitting right next to Junie, the two of them already deep into a high-stakes debate over which luxury designer purse they were going to hunt down next.
My mom and Junie were cut from the exact same cloth—both headstrong and fiery—yet somehow, my mom still held a soft spot for Tammy over everybody else.
We were eating like true royalty. My mom had laid out a spread of golden-brown fried chicken that crunched with every bite, savory collard greens swimming in pot likker, thick slabs of sweet buttermilk cornbread, and creamy mashed potatoes drenched in rich, dark gravy.
It was hands-down the best meal I’d had in months.
Looking across the table at Junie, I couldn't help but smile.
Sure, the girl couldn't cook to save her life—her kitchen skills were nonexistent—but she more than made up for it with her other elite qualities.
She could dress better than anyone in the room, turning heads and looking like a certified runway model every single time she stepped out on my arm.
Every high-stakes player in the city knew they couldn't flex a woman like mine.
Plus, she had an eye for interior design that could make a thrifted couch look like a custom million-dollar piece.
My girl was a genuine, uncut diamond straight out of the rough.
Midway through dinner, the low hum of conversation faded as my mama subtly signaled over to the stereo system, cueing up Promise by Jagged Edge. The smooth R instead, we chilled low-key in Rizz’s trap house.
Rizz had already cleared the block, sending all his low-level workers home early because he knew damn well the neighborhood was about to get scorching hot before the night was over.