Chapter 26
Chapter twenty-six
Bryce
“Closure Ain’t Always Pretty, But It’s Necessary”
After we had our lil’ Iyanla Fix My Life moment in the living room, everybody drifted toward the kitchen, hunting like wolves for something to eat.
Chesteria had already made it clear she wasn’t cooking until later that evening, so every man, woman, and bougie cousin was on their own for breakfast and lunch.
Me and Isis were the last two to leave. I caught her rinsing out her mug at the sink, her head tilted in that quiet, contemplative way she always did when she wasn’t talking, but was still loud as hell in her spirit.
Before another day passed, I felt like I owed her an apology I should’ve said sooner.
I cleared my throat, voice low. “You got a second?”
“Yeah. What’s up?”
I shifted a bit, bracing myself against the counter. “I owe you an apology.”
That got her eyebrow to rise. “For what, exactly?”
I exhaled slowly. “For the way I said what I said yesterday… about still loving Chesteria. I ain’t mean to embarrass you or make you feel like you were second-best.”
She gave a soft shrug, but her tone lowered, too. “You didn’t embarrass me, Bryce; you just… reminded me.”
I blinked. “Reminded you of what?”
“That I always go for the man that isn’t fully mine.” Isis’s smile was soft, but her eyes weren’t laughing.
I rubbed the back of my neck. “I ain’t trying to make excuses. But you know I never led you on, Isis. You were good company; hell, you could be a good woman… for the right man. But what I feel for Chesteria? That’s something I never stopped feeling’… even when I tried to.”
Isis nodded slowly, her voice airy but firm. “I know. I guess I was just in denial. Chesteria told me I deserved better… and now here you are, saying the same thing.”
“Because it’s true.”
She tilted her head, lips curling into a half-smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Then why does ‘better’ always sound like a polite way of saying, ‘Not you’?”
“Because I’m not the man who could love you right… not now… maybe not ever. I got too much history with Chesteria; too many mistakes I still wake up regretting. And I ain’t trying to drag nobody else through that storm.”
Isis looked down for a beat, then up. “I wanted to be the umbrella, Bryce… but I ain’t trying to drown either.”
I chuckled softly, impressed. “You always had a way with words.”
“And you…” she smirked, though her eyes were glossy, “always had a way of breaking hearts without ever raising your voice.”
A quiet beat stretched between us.
“You gon’ be alright, though?” I asked.
She sniffled lightly, then squared her shoulders like she’d just reapplied her lip liner. “I’m Isis. Of course I’ll be okay. You were just a detour… a sexy, confusing detour. But I never need directions to find myself again.”
I chuckled, low and real. “I’ll take that.”
Isis stepped in a little closer, playful glint in her eyes. “Take it and go love that woman like she don’t even know what she survived to still be standing in front of you. Love her like you finally got the manual on how to treat her heart.”
I nodded, mouth pressed tight. “Preciate that. And for what it’s worth, when you do meet that one? Don’t dim your light trying to make him see you better. The right man gon’ bring his own damn flashlight.”
“Period,” Isis snapped her fingers. Then she leaned a little closer and lowered her voice, eyes mischievous.
“But before you go being all noble and healed and whatnot… can we just have sex one more time? For the culture? For my poor kitty? For Beyoncé’s legacy?
For the sake of thigh meat that refuses to be ignored? ”
I busted out laughing. “Hell no, Isis!”
Isis pouted dramatically. “Damn. Not even for brunch energy? For women's rights? For pillowcases that still remember me?!”
I was still laughing, shaking my head. “The answer is no, Isis. We can still be cool, but that’s it.”
“Well, you can’t say I didn’t try,” she said, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “And dammit… it was so good while it lasted.”
Isis grabbed her glass off the counter, lifted it halfway toward me with a wry smile. “To healing and brutal honesty… even the messy kind.”
I raised my imaginary glass back at her. “To both.”
Isis walked off with the kind of poise only bougie women born in glitter and grown in grit could pull off. And I just stood there, watching her go.
Isis was right about one thing—it was good while it lasted.
If nothing else, I was gon’ miss that pussy and head.
Isis might’ve been classy in public, but she was a carnal in private.
She knew her angles, and she knew mine, too.
But that’s the thing about temptation; it doesn’t come with peace…
and that’s what I was chasing those days.
Peace and purpose.
Isis was pleasure, but on some real shit, the pussy wasn’t worth the headache, the nut wasn’t worth the aftermath.
And no matter how good the sex was, I never felt whole in her arms…
just distracted. And I was done distracting myself from who I really wanted.
Chesteria was the lesson, the love, and the one I fumbled when I thought I had time to play.
And maybe I didn’t deserve either of ‘em, but only one made me want to be more than just a man with good dick and good excuses.
So yeah… it was time to get my girl back.