22. Solomon
The Wedding Day
The private suite at the Luxe Grand Ballroom was quieter than I expected.
Not quiet enough to hear my own thoughts, though.
Karon stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling mirror while Gabriel adjusted the sleeve of his tuxedo jacket. Dominic was sitting on the edge of the velvet couch, watching with an amused expression while a tailor crouched in front of him, pinning the hem of his pants.
I stood a few feet away, staring at myself in the mirror.
Black tuxedo, white shirt, black bow tie, and cufflinks my father had given me.
A man about to get married.
I almost laughed at the thought.
Not because it wasn’t real, but because there had been so many moments in my life when I thought I wouldn’t make it this far. I looked at my reflection and wondered if the man staring back at me would recognize the version of himself from years ago.
The angry one.
The reckless one.
The one who thought he could outrun consequences. The one who believed survival was the same thing as living.
I’d been through hell. Some of it I’d walked into willingly. Some of it had found me, and some of it had nearly buried me.
I still remembered the night I almost died, every detail—the cold, the darkness, the sound of my own breathing becoming weaker. The realization that I might not see another sunrise.
That night changed something inside me. When you were staring death in the face, all the things you thought mattered suddenly become small.
Money, pride, reputation, and being right, none of it meant anything.
I remember lying on that cold concrete and asking God for another chance while blood leaked from my head and my chest. I didn’t ask for money or power, not even for revenge on the nigga who pulled the trigger.
Just another chance to become the man I knew I was supposed to be. Who I was before Rosaria.
And the Big Homie gave me one.
I didn’t understand the path at first. I thought living righteous meant everything would suddenly become easy.
It didn’t.
If anything, it got harder because doing right meant letting go of things I’d spent years convincing myself I needed.
It meant accountability, discipline, and forgiveness. It meant choosing peace when I had every reason to choose anger. It meant trusting God even when I couldn’t see what He was doing.
Then I met Temple.
I hadn’t been looking for her per se, but that was the part that still got me.
I was at that fundraiser because of my parents.
I wasn’t walking into it expecting my entire life to change.
Then she walked out of that building, and somehow, in a parking lot full of people, my eyes found her.
I remember thinking she was beautiful, but it wasn’t just her beauty. There was something about her.
Something familiar.
Something peaceful.
Something that made me want to know her.
I didn’t know it then, but God had already answered the prayer I’d made on the worst night of my life. He just hadn’t told me what the answer would look like.
Temple was it—my wife, my answered prayer, my second chance at love and a renewed life.
I looked down at the wedding ring sitting in its box on the table. Soon, it wouldn’t be in a box no more. It would be on her finger, and she would have mine.
I swallowed hard. I’d spent so much of my life believing love was something you had to earn or fight for. Hell, something that could be taken away the second you showed weakness.
Temple taught me differently.
She loved me when she was unsure of the road ahead of us. She challenged me and stepped out on faith with me.
I told her the parts of me I wasn’t proud of, and she never made me feel like they made me unworthy of love. For the first time in my life, I knew what genuine love felt like, and I was happy.
Truly freaking happy.
Not the kind of happy that came from getting what I wanted. The kind that came from knowing who I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.
“Lo.”
Karon’s voice pulled me from my thoughts. I looked over at him. He was watching me through the mirror.
“You good?”
I nodded. “Absolutely.”
He smirked. “You over there looking like you’re about to cry.”
I chuckled. “I ain’t crying, fool.”
Gabriel laughed. “Bruh definitely over there looking like Morris Chestnut from The Best Man.”
“Get your damn sleeve fixed,” I told him.
The room erupted in laughter. For a moment, everything felt normal.
My cousin and his friends, whom I considered my brothers, showed up for me on such short notice; it made me happy to see they still did, even though we were on different waves.
Then the door opened, and I turned. My mother stood in the doorway. She looked at me for a long moment. There was something in her expression I couldn’t quite place.
Regret, maybe?
Fear?
“Solomon,” she said softly.
The laughter disappeared.
“Can I have a moment with you?”
I looked at Karon, Gabriel, and Dominic. They exchanged glances before silently gathering themselves.
Karon walked past me and squeezed my shoulder. “We’ll be outside. Hey, Auntie.”
“Hi, baby. You guys look handsome.”
“Thank you.”
The three of them kissed her cheek and left. The door closed behind them. Silence settled over the room, and Urina stepped farther inside.
For several seconds, neither of us spoke, then she looked at me.
“You’re really getting married.”
I gave her a small nod. “I am.”
She smiled, but it didn’t last. “I owe you an apology.”
I said nothing.
She took a breath. “I owe Temple one too.”
My jaw tightened. “Ma—”
“No. Let me finish.” She stepped closer. “I was wrong.”
Those three words carried more weight than I expected.
“I judged that woman before I knew her. I questioned her intentions. I questioned her character. I convinced myself that I was protecting you when really . . .” She shook her head. “I was letting my own fears control me.”
I just stared at her.
She continued. “And I hurt you in the process.”
My eyes dropped toward the floor. She had no idea how many times I’d wished she would say those words. How many times I’d wanted my mother to look at me and admit that she had been wrong.
“I spent so much of your life trying to control your choices,” she said. “Trying to make you into the son I thought you should be instead of trusting the man you were becoming.”
I finally looked at her. “And you think an apology fixes all that?”
Her eyes filled with tears. “No.”
My voice was steady. “It doesn’t.”
“I know.”
“You’ve been doing this most of my life, Ma.”
“I know that too.”
“You judge people before you know them. You make decisions for everybody. You say things that cut deeper than you realize and then expect everybody to just move on because you’re my mother.”
She lowered her eyes. “I know, Solomon.”
I shook my head. “Do you?”
She nodded. “I do now.”
I walked toward the window, looking down at the ballroom below. People were moving around, flowers were being arranged, and the staff made their final preparations.
My wedding was happening, my life moving forward, and I wasn’t willing to drag the past into it.
“I love you,” I said. She looked at me. “But I’m tired.”
Her lips trembled.
“I’m tired of having to forgive you for the same thing over and over again.”
“I understand.”
“No, Ma. Listen to me. This is the last time.”
She froze.
“I’ll forgive you. I’m not holding this against you.
I’m not going to stand at that altar carrying anger toward my mother.
” I turned to face her. “But if you ever disrespect Temple again . . . if you ever try to interfere with my marriage, undermine her, judge her, or make her feel like she has to earn your acceptance . . .” I paused.
“You won’t be part of the next phase of my life. ”
She stared at me. “Solomon . . .”
“I’m serious.” My voice cracked slightly, but I didn’t back down. “That means when Temple and I have children, you won’t know them.”
Tears rolled down her cheeks.
“You won’t see your future grandchildren.”
She covered her mouth.
“And I’m not saying that to hurt you. I’m saying it because I need you to understand how serious I am about protecting my marriage.”
She nodded slowly. “I understand.”
“I need you to respect my wife.”
“I will. I promise.”
“I also need you to trust that I know what I’m doing.”
“I do.”
“And I need you to not treat Temple like she’s the enemy.”
My mother wiped her cheek. “She’s not the enemy.”
“No?”
She shook her head. “She’s your wife. I was the enemy, but I don’t want to be anymore.”
I studied her face. She looked different. Maybe it was the tears or the realization that her son wasn’t the little boy she could control anymore. Maybe it was finally understanding that loving me meant letting me live my own life.
“I promise you,” she whispered. “I’ll never do it again.”
I nodded. “Then we’re good.”
She stepped toward me. For a second, neither of us moved, then she wrapped her arms around me. I stood there stiffly at first. Years of disappointment didn’t disappear because of one apology, but eventually, I wrapped my arms around her too.
She hugged me tightly. “I’m proud of you,” she whispered against my chest.
I closed my eyes. “It’s about time you said that.”
She pulled back and looked up at me, a hint of a smile on her face. “I’m proud of the man you’ve become.” She kissed my cheek, then a full smile broke through her tears. “And your father is proud too.”
“I know.”
She squeezed my hands. “Go marry that woman, love her, and protect her.”
I smiled. “I plan to. Always.”
She nodded. “Then I’m ready to let you go.” I watched her walk toward the door, but before she opened it, she turned around.
“Solomon?”
“Yeah?”
She smiled. “Don’t make that beautiful woman wait too long.”
I laughed. “Ma, you’re the one holding me up.”
She laughed, too, and for the first time in a long time, when my mother walked out of a room, I didn’t feel like something had been taken from me.
I felt like something had finally been repaired. I looked at myself in the mirror again.
The same man with a different life, different heart, and a different purpose.