A Few Weeks Later
By the time we pulled into Josiah’s driveway, my children had already embarrassed me twice, threatened me once, and formed an alliance with Leilani’s girls through a group text I had not approved.
Skye called it “community building.”
Zuri called it “networking.”
Maya said it was “interpersonal development.”
Kayden looked out the window and muttered, “Y’all are unemployed.”
JJ, who had driven behind us, sent a text to the family group chat that simply said:
Please act like Mama raised y’all.
Skye replied with a GIF of a raccoon running away with a slice of pizza.
I wanted to turn the car around.
Instead, I pulled into the long driveway of Josiah’s big, brick house and tried to breathe through the sight in front of me.
His property stretched wide and green, with oak trees shading the yard, a basketball goal near the side drive, a long patio behind the house, and an outdoor kitchen that looked like somebody had designed it for a man who believed grilling was both ministry and sport.
Cars already filled half the driveway.
Onyx’s truck was parked near the garage with Leilani’s SUV beside it. A car sat crooked across two spaces, and even before I saw him, something in my spirit said Juice. Melody’s vehicle was tucked neatly beneath a tree, reasonable and considerate, which only confirmed my theory.
One backseat was packed with covered dishes, foil pans, and enough serving spoons to suggest somebody’s auntie had arrived with authority.
Near the porch, a woman with warm eyes and effortless command directed someone toward the ice chest, while a man near the grill held tongs like he was presiding over a prayer breakfast with smoke.
Uncle Zeke, who I only recognized once Josiah called out to him, stood near the grill with a serious expression on his face, as if ribs had personally asked him for excellence.
And then there was Josiah.
He stood near the backyard gate in a white T-shirt, dark jeans, and that intentional way he had of making simple things look like provision. When his eyes found mine through the windshield, the knot in my stomach loosened and tightened at the same time.
Because he had said he loved me.
Because my children were about to be released into a gathering full of people who loved him and might decide I was the problem if one of mine acted feral.
I turned around in my seat. “Listen to me.”
All five of my children looked at me.
JJ leaned into the open driver’s window.
“We’re not embarrassing me today.”
Skye blinked. “Are questions embarrassing?”
Kayden answered first. “Yes.”
Zuri frowned. “No.”
Maya lifted one shoulder. “It depends on the question.”
JJ sighed. “That’s worse.”
I pointed at all of them. “No asking about marriage. No asking about babies. No asking his family if they approve of me. No asking how many rooms he has. No asking if he has a will.”
Skye’s mouth dropped. “I wasn’t gonna ask about the will.”
Zuri looked away too fast.
“Zuri.”
“What? Estate planning is important.”
Kayden opened his door. “I’m leaving before I’m associated with this.”
JJ laughed and pulled him into a headlock as soon as he got out.
Kayden shoved him off, but he was smiling, and the sight of that alone made my chest soften.
A few months ago, my son’s grief had worn anger like armor.
Now he was standing in Josiah’s driveway, letting his brother mess with him, looking seventeen instead of forty.
Thank You, Lord.
Josiah reached my door before I could open it.
“Hey, Red.”
I took his hand and stepped out. “Hey.”
His eyes moved over my face. “You nervous?”
I almost lied.
But Josiah kept looking at me like he had time for the truth.
I let out a breath. “Yes.”
His thumb moved across my knuckles. “About what?”
“All of it.” I glanced toward the house, then the yard, then the people moving around like they already belonged to one another.
“Meeting your mama. Meeting your family. My kids being themselves at full volume. Everybody watching us. Wondering if they’re going to think I’m too much, or my family’s too much, or that I come with more grief than somebody should have to make room for. ”
His expression softened.
“Look at me, baby.” I did. “You’re not auditioning for my family.
You’re coming into a house where you’re already wanted.
And your children don’t scare me. Their questions don’t scare me.
Their grief doesn’t scare me. Their personalities absolutely require prayer and a snack budget, but they don’t scare me. ”
A laugh slipped out before I could stop it.
“You don’t have to make yourself smaller to be easier for anybody in there to love.
You hear me?” I nodded, but my eyes burned.
“I’m serious, Red. Bring all of you. The mama.
The widow. The woman who worries. The woman who laughs.
The woman who still misses what she lost and still wants what God is growing now.
” He lifted my hand and kissed my fingers. “There’s room.”
“Okay,” I whispered.
His hand slid to my cheek, warm and sure.
“And if anybody gets out of line, I’ve got you.”
“Your family?”
He leaned closer. “Especially them.”
I laughed again, and he kissed me.
It was sweet. Brief. Just enough pressure to remind my nerves they didn’t get to drive when love was already holding the keys.
When he pulled back, his eyes stayed on mine. “Better?”
“Yes, baby.”
“I’ll take that.”
He laced his fingers through mine, then glanced toward the porch. “Come on. Let me take you inside before your children start asking about square footage and inheritance laws.”
Behind me, Zuri gasped. “I was not going to say inheritance.”
Kayden muttered, “You were absolutely going to say inheritance.”
Josiah laughed, squeezed my hand, and led me up the porch and into the house.
Inside, it smelled like lemon cleaner, smoked meat, butter, and somebody’s dessert that was absolutely not being guarded well enough from Juice.
The foyer opened into a spacious living room with tall windows, family pictures, deep-brown furniture, and enough warmth to make the house feel lived in without feeling cluttered.
A framed picture of Josiah and his father sat on a console table beside fresh flowers, and something about that small tribute made me squeeze his hand.
He looked down at me.
Before we could make it through the living room, Skye slid between us and looked up at him.
“Mr. Josiah, do you have a trampoline?”
“No.”
“Pool?”
“No.”
“Horse?”
“No.”
She frowned. “You have all this space and no horse?”
Josiah looked through the window toward his yard, then back at her. “I didn’t realize I was being audited.”
Zuri walked up beside her. “We can make a list.”
I shook my head. “No, we cannot.”
Josiah’s smile widened. “Y’all can make a suggestion box.”
Skye gasped. “Really?”
Kayden shook his head. “No. That was sarcasm.”
Josiah pointed at Kayden. “See? That’s growth. He’s learning my ministry.”
Kayden tried not to smile and failed.
Josiah greeted JJ with a handshake that turned into a hug, firm and easy.
“Glad you made it, man.”
JJ nodded. “Appreciate the invite.”
“Always.”
Something passed between them, a respect that didn’t need to make an announcement.
JJ had been watchful at first, loving me enough to study Josiah without acting like he was auditioning him.
But over the past few weeks, he had softened in ways he probably thought nobody noticed.
He texted Josiah about outlets. Sent him memes about men with toolboxes.
Asked him once, very casually, if he could help Kayden with footwork because “the boy be moving like his ankles filed a complaint.”
Through the back doors, Leilani came across the yard in a yellow sundress with Onyx beside her and their girls moving at two different rhythms. Jaya, bright-eyed and talkative, was already scanning the yard for my girls.
Jamilah rested on Onyx’s hip with purple headphones over her ears, one hand curled around a sensory toy, while her other arm rested against her daddy’s shoulder.
Her eyes moved over the yard, taking in the people, the colors, the noise, and the motion.
Josiah crouched several feet away from her.
He didn’t rush in. He didn’t force a greeting. He didn’t make his voice too big.
“Hey, Boss Lady.”
Jamilah’s eyes flicked toward him.
He held up two choices in his hands, a small bubble wand in one and a laminated card with pictures in the other.
“Bubbles or swing first?”
Leilani’s face softened.
Jamilah looked at the bubbles, then at the swing tied beneath the oak tree, then back at Josiah. Her fingers tapped twice against her sensory toy.
Josiah waited.
He waited like her answer mattered, even if it took time to arrive.
Finally, Jamilah reached toward the bubble wand.
“Bubbles it is.”
He nodded once, then held it out without stepping closer.
“You want to hold it, or you want me to blow them?”
Jamilah took the wand from him, her fingers brushing his, and made a happy sound that had Leilani blinking hard beside me.
Onyx cleared his throat, but his eyes were suspiciously glossy. “Man, don’t make my wife cry before the potato salad even hit the table.”
Leilani slapped his arm. “Shut up.”
Josiah smiled and stood.
“I put a breakroom in the sunroom too. Low lights, weighted blanket, fruit snacks, water, and no forced socializing.”
Leilani looked at me, then at him. “You asked me one question last week and built a whole accommodation plan?”
“I asked three questions. And Boss Lady deserves options.”
Onyx stared at him for a second, then pointed. “That right there is why I like you, bro.”
Jaya came over and looked Josiah up and down. “Do you have a snack table?”
Josiah nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Fruit snacks?”
“For Jamilah, yes.”
“Chips?”
“Yes.”
“Cupcakes?”
“Ask Aunt Hilary. Don’t tell her I sent you.”
Jaya smiled. “You’re useful.”
Josiah pressed a hand to his chest. “That might be the nicest thing anybody says to me today.”