Page 27 of Love You Like That

“Ya folks. What they gon’ think. Whether they see me or just… see this,” he said, gesturing to his arm, the ink snaking up his skin.

“They’ll seeyou. Eventually.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Eventually?”

I winced. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just… it takes them time. They’re big on optics.”

He nodded. “Bet.”

I hated the way thatbetsounded. So I reached over and grabbed his hand. “They’ll see what I see,” I said. “Just give ‘em a chance.”

He didn’t speak for a beat. Then he looked over at me, that smirk sneaking back onto his lips. “So what if ya Pops pull me to the side and ask if we be fuckin’? What I’mma say? That I be diggin’ you out in the dark to the rhythm of Lauryn Hill?”

I burst out laughing, slapping his arm. “Ezra!”

He kissed my hand. “Just tryna lighten the mood.”

“Well, it’s working.”

“You nervous?”

“Absolutely.”

He grinned. “Good. That makes two of us.”

We pulled up to the gated entrance of my parents’ home and I gave the security guard my name. As the gates creaked open, I exhaled, trying not to panic. Ezra looked up at the three-story white-brick mansion ahead of us, eyes widening just a little.

“Thisis they crib?”

“Yeah.”

“Yavanni. Come on, now.”

I laughed again, nerves vibrating through me as I parked in the circular driveway. “Just smile. Be charming.”

We both stepped out and I realized that no matter what happened in the next two hours, I wanted this man beside me. Tatted, hood and all.

Is t e p p e do u tof the car and felt every muscle in my body tighten. In front of me stood a mansion so white and clean it looked like something straight out of a fucking TV drama.

The lawn was perfect with expensive landscaping and cars parked neatly along a winding driveway. The sound of soft jazz drifted from the backyard, weaving between conversations and polite laughter. My sneakers felt out of place against the polished stones beneath my feet. My tattoos felt even more pressed against my skin.

Yaya glanced at me, eyes wide with nerves. “You ready?” she asked quietly, reaching for my hand.

“Let’s do it,” I said, more confident than I felt.

We walked through the side gate into the backyard, and the first thing that hit me was the sheer elegance of it all. White tents, fairy lights draped tastefully, gold accents shimmering in the fading sunlight. Servers moved around with silver trays of appetizers, while people who looked too rich to sweat laughed gently behind expensive sunglasses and summer linen. This shit wasn’t a gathering. It was a carefully curated event.

I kept Yaya’s hand tight in mine as she led me toward a group near the bar. I watched as she slipped into a version of herself I’d never seen before. Her shoulders straightened, her voice rose just slightly in pitch, her laughter more polished. She was still my Yaya but dressed in armor I never knew she owned.

“Yavanni!” a woman called, stepping forward with a big smile and flawless makeup. “We thought you’d never arrive. Congrats!”

“Thank you, Aunt Lucy,” Yaya greeted warmly, leaning in for an air kiss. “This is Ezra.”

Her aunt looked me up and down with her gaze lingering a fraction too long on my arms before she offered a polite smile. “Nice to meet you, Ezra. What is it that you do?”

“I’m a poet,” I said, keeping my voice even.

Her brows rose, the polite smile widening stiffly. “A poet! How lovely. And what else?”

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