Chapter Nine
The Things Fear Cost Me
LaKeith stayed away for five days.
Thursday came.
Four thirty passed.
The bell above the door remained silent.
I told myself the quiet was peaceful.
It felt terrible.
At five fifteen, Jakari arrived to inspect the repaired ceiling.
Norelle glared at him from the register. “Your cousin sent you?”
“I was already scheduled,” Jakari answered.
“Is he okay?”
Jakari looked at her. “You asking for yourself or Yandy?”
“I’m asking because unfinished emotional business ruins customer service.”
“He’s working.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
Jakari examined the ceiling. “He’ll be fine.”
I stepped from behind the counter. “Did he get the building?”
His expression became guarded. “Ask him.”
“He isn’t speaking to me.”
Jakari looked at me. “Can’t imagine why.”
Norelle pointed at him. “Watch your tone.”
“You disliked me on sight,” Jakari reminded her.
“I’ve had time to strengthen my opinion.”
“Then why do you keep asking when I’ll be back?”
“I need accurate maintenance records.”
“You asked whether I was single.”
“For insurance purposes.”
Jakari smiled. “You are terrible at lying.”
“And you are too pleased with yourself.”
I cleared my throat loudly.
They both looked at me.
“Please conduct your foreplay away from the biographies.”
Norelle gasped. “I would never.”
Jakari’s smile widened. “She might.”
“Get out,” Norelle snapped.
Jakari handed me a business-size envelope.
“LaKeith asked me to give you this.”
Inside was a copy of the building proposal.
I sat at the café and read every page.
LaKeith’s offer guaranteed Between the Lines a ten-year lease at its current rate.
It gave me the right to purchase my storefront after three years, with part of my rent credited toward the sale.
The upstairs space would become affordable offices for local entrepreneurs.
He had included plans for a courtyard behind the building where I could host readings, markets, and community events.
He had considered everything.
Everything except telling me.
At the back of the proposal, I found a handwritten note.
Yandy,
I should have trusted you with the truth sooner. You should never have learned about the sale from someone who wanted to frighten you.
My intentions were good. My execution was wrong.
The offer stands whether we do or not.
—LaKeith
I read the final sentence three times.
The offer stands whether we do or not.
LaKeith remained willing to protect the bookstore even if I never forgave him.
His mistake still mattered.
So did mine.
That evening, I went to Brinelle’s salon.
She was sweeping hair around an empty styling chair.
“I know that walk,” Brinelle said without looking up. “You came to confess foolishness.”
“I came for support.”
“You can receive both.”
I dropped into a chair. “He should have told me.”
“Yes.”
“I had a right to be angry.”
“Absolutely.”
“I still love him.”
Brinelle leaned the broom against the wall. “There it is.”
I covered my face. “I compared him to Remell.”
“You were triggered.”
“That sounds like an excuse.”
“It is an explanation. Explanations help you understand behavior. They do not erase responsibility.”
I lowered my hands.
Brinelle sat across from me.
“What are you afraid of?” she asked.
“That I’ll trust him, and he’ll become someone else.”
“He may disappoint you again.”
“That is not reassuring.”
“You will disappoint him too. Love is not the absence of mistakes. It is what two people do after the mistake tells the truth about them.”
I stared at her.
“When did you become wise?” I asked.
“Two divorces are expensive education.”
Despite myself, I laughed.
Brinelle reached for my hand. “Remell made you believe love comes with hidden fees. Every good gesture looks suspicious now. Every omission feels like the opening scene of a scam.”
“He hid something important.”
“He did.”
“And I hurt him.”
“You did.”
“What if he doesn’t forgive me?”
“Then you apologize because he deserves it, rather than because you want a reward.”
The following Monday, Mr. Dillingham sent me formal notice that Harrow had increased its offer.
LaKeith’s financing remained pending.
I stood behind the counter reading the letter while panic squeezed my lungs.
“What are we going to do?” Norelle asked.
I folded the notice.
“We’re going to fight.”