7. Celeste
Wednesday Evening
By four thirty, Celestial Crowns looked like a salon, a study hall, and a tiny government agency run by children with snack demands.
The front stations were still moving. Starr had a client laughing under her cape. The back row stayed taped off, quiet and useless, while Josiah’s crew worked around it with drop cloths, tools, and the steady hum of men who knew what they were doing.
At the small table near the waiting area, my children acted like homework was a personal attack.
“Everything needs to be finished and checked before Uncle Onyx gets here,” I said, holding my pen like a judge with a gavel.
Zuri dropped her forehead to her paper. “Mama.”
“Don’t Mama me. I’m raising scholars over here.” I tapped her math sheet. “Future veterinarian.”
She lifted her head and smiled despite herself.
I pointed at Maya. “Future artist.”
Maya kept sketching in the corner of her packet. “Artists don’t need fractions.”
“Broke ones do.”
Starr’s client hollered.
I turned to Skye, who had one shoe off and a pencil tucked behind her ear. “Future Olympic gymnast.”
Skye perked up. “Olympic?”
“With correct spelling words.”
Her face fell. “Dang.”
“And Kayden,” I said, looking at my seventeen-year-old standing by the window like unpaid security. “Future doctor, engineer, coach, principal, or whatever you decide once you stop eating cereal over the sink like a bachelor with bad credit.”
The shop cracked up.
Kayden tried not to smile, but his mouth betrayed him.
I kissed Zuri’s forehead, Maya’s temple, Skye’s cheek, and Kayden’s jaw because he was too tall for me to reach his cheek without making a production. “Groan all you want. This work is getting done, and it’s getting done right.”
The bell chimed.
Josiah Brooks walked in carrying a tool bag in one hand and a coil of wire over his other shoulder.
He wore dark work pants and a black Brooks Hardwire shirt stretched across shoulders broad enough to block bad decisions. His braids were tied back, beard neat, eyes steady. He looked like responsibility had put on boots and walked into my shop.
“Afternoon, Ms. Coleman,” he said.
“Afternoon, Mr. Brooks.” My voice behaved better than my pulse. “I’ll be right with you.”
“No rush.”
Kayden’s eyes moved from Josiah to me, then back to Josiah.
I knew that look. That was the don’t get too comfortable around my mama look.
Josiah must’ve known it too because he didn’t challenge it. He simply nodded. “How you doing, young man?”
Kayden nodded back. Barely. “I’m good.”
Skye whispered, “Kayden acting like security again.”
“Skye,” I warned.
Josiah’s mouth twitched, but he kept moving toward the back. He didn’t rush through my shop or treat my children like obstacles. He moved around them with care. Not nervous. Not performative. Just aware.
If I didn’t love anything else, I loved a Black man who respected a mother in motion.
A few minutes later, the bell chimed again, and Onyx walked in with one of his daughters skipping ahead of him while Jamilah sat high on his hip, clapping her hands and babbling against his shoulder.
“Where my little scholars at?” Onyx called.
My kids erupted. “Uncle Onyx!”
His daughter ran straight to Zuri and Skye, and all three girls hugged like they hadn’t seen each other in years instead of a few days.
“Uncle Onyx, we have homework first,” Zuri said like she wanted credit for suffering.
“That’s right. Tell him again,” I said.
Onyx grinned. “Celly, I’m just the transportation ministry. You’re the academic board.”
Josiah came from the back at the sound of Onyx’s voice, and the two men dapped each other up.
Kayden noticed. “You know him?”
Onyx looked at my son. “Yeah. Siah’s good people. He helped me and Aunt Leilani when our lights were acting funny at the house. He came through, fixed the issue, didn’t try to tax us, and explained everything so I didn’t feel slow, and bonded with your godsister.”
Kayden’s shoulders eased a little. Not all the way. But enough.
Jamilah reached toward Josiah, babbling with her hands opening and closing.
Josiah bent right away, his whole face changing. “Hey, baby girl. How you been doing?”
She pressed both palms against his forearm and made a bright, excited sound.
Skye stepped closer. “That’s our godsister, Jamilah. She’s nonverbal.”
I watched Josiah carefully. Moments like that told the truth about people.
He didn’t flinch. Didn’t overdo it. Didn’t talk around her like she wasn’t there.
“I’ve met her. This my little friend I bonded with, and that’s okay,” he said gently. “She has her own language. She just communicates differently.”
Jamilah smiled so big it looked like sunshine had found a face. Something warm loosened in my chest.
“Did Leilani get out?” I asked.
Onyx lifted Jamilah higher on his hip. “I sent her to the spa and paid for it myself. I told my pregnant wife don’t call me unless the building’s on fire. I’m taking all the crumb snatchers tonight.”
“Uncle Onyx!” my kids fussed.
His daughter giggled behind her hand, already used to her daddy embarrassing everybody with a pulse.
“What? Crumb snatchers is a term of endearment,” Onyx teased.
“No, it’s not,” Maya said, laughing for real.
“It is in my ministry,” he retorted jokingly.
I laughed before I could stop myself. Josiah wasn’t staring, just watching as if my joy had caught his attention more than anything else in the room.
Our eyes met. I looked away first.
“Homework,” I said, clapping once.
I checked homework one paper at a time and told Skye her S looked like a snake with anxiety. Josiah worked near the back, but every so often, I felt his eyes lift.
Once, I caught him tightening something near the open wall. He looked up before I could turn away. His eyes held mine through the mirror for one stolen second, and heat touched my face like I’d stepped too close to a stove.
By the time Onyx gathered everybody near the door, he looked between Josiah and me with a smirk, and I wanted to chunk my rattail comb at his head.
While bouncing Jamilah on his hip, he called out, “Avengers, assemble.”
The kids poured out laughing, waving, fussing, and calling goodbye over one another. Kayden stopped last, gave Josiah one more look, then kissed my cheek.
“Mama, please text me when you’re leaving,” he said.
“I will.”
“I mean it.”
“I know, baby.”
When the door closed behind them, Josiah stood near the back, watching the empty doorway before he looked at me. “You have a beautiful family.”
My throat tightened. “Thank you.”
“You do really well with them.”
I smiled. “I try my best under the circumstances.”
“I can tell.”
The way he said it made me look at him. He wasn’t flattering me. He wasn’t reaching. He was simply telling me what he saw.
I gathered stray pencils from the table. Josiah reached for one at the same time, and our fingers brushed. A tiny touch. Still, my breath caught.
His hand stilled before he pulled back, careful enough not to make me regret it.
“Sorry,” he said.
“You’re fine,” I answered too quickly.
His eyes warmed. “Am I?”
I looked at him, and Lord, forgive me, I smiled. “Don’t start, Mr. Brooks.”
“I haven’t started anything, Ms. Coleman.”
“No?”
He picked up the pencil and set it beside my notebook. “No, ma’am. I’m still checking the wiring.”
I turned away before he saw too much on my face. “Good, because that’s what I’m paying you for.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
When I glanced over my shoulder, he was smiling. Something grief had buried deep shifted beneath the soil, trying to remember how to grow.