Page 43 of Love You Like That

He lives here?

My shock only deepened as we stepped into the mirrored elevator, soaring up to the penthouse floor. When the doors opened, my breath caught sharply in my throat.

Ezra's penthouse was spacious and pristine withhuge windows, showcasing the glittering city skyline below. It was modern, luxurious, and so very different from the man I once knew, the poet whose quiet intensity matched his simple life. Now everything around him radiated wealth, power, and prestige.

I stepped into the living room, feeling suddenly out of place, small and insignificant. I ran my fingers gently over a black marble countertop in the kitchen, my heart twisting painfully. This was Ezra’s world. It wasn’t mine and it definitely wasn’t a baby’s. I turned abruptly, panic rising sharply in my chest. “Ezra, I can’t do this. I shouldn’t have come.”

He stared at me, confusion and hurt flashing through his eyes. “What you talkin’ 'bout, Yavanni?”

“Look around!” I gestured wildly, fighting tears again. “You’ve built an entirely new life here without me. Without us. You’re thriving. How could we ever fit into this?”

“Yaya, stop—”

“No,” I said, my voice breaking completely. “This was a mistake. Coming here was a mistake. We don’t belong here, Ezra. We don’t belong in this world you’ve created.”

I moved toward the elevator quickly, desperate to escape before I broke entirely, but Ezra moved faster, catching my wrist firmly but gently. I tried to pull away, tears blinding me, but he turned me to face him, his expression raw, desperate and pleading.

“Don’t run from me,” he whispered fiercely, his eyes searching mine deeply. “You exactly where you belong. Right here wit' me.”

“I can’t,” I whispered brokenly, tears streaming down my cheeks. “We’re so different now, Ezra. You’ve changed. Your whole life changed, and I’m… I’m just me.”

“You’re everything,” he murmured urgently, cupping my face tenderly, his eyes blazing with sincerity. “Do you think any of this shit matters without you? This penthouse, the car, the money? None of it fills the emptiness a nigga feels inside. I built all this tryna outrun the hurt but none of it works without you, baby.”

I stared into his eyes, shaking violently with sobs, terrified of the truth in his words, terrified of believing again, only to lose it all once more. His thumb brushed gently across my cheek,wiping tears away softly. “I know I fucked up. I know I hurt you. But please, don’t leave, Yaya. We need this. We need each other.”

I closed my eyes tightly, leaning into his touch, my voice trembling. “I’m scared, Ezra.”

“I feel you,” he whispered honestly, voice rough with vulnerability. “But stay. Talk to me. Please.”

Slowly, I opened my eyes again, seeing nothing but raw truth, love, and fear reflected back at me. The storm inside me softened, my resistance dissolving slowly, leaving only the aching truth behind.

Ezra pulled me gently into his arms, and as I buried my face against his chest, inhaling the familiar warmth of him, I finally surrendered. I didn’t know how we’d fit here. I didn’t know if we could ever rebuild what we broke. But as his heartbeat thundered beneath my ear, I knew one thing was certain. I couldn’t run from us anymore.

Ezra held me there in the middle of his penthouse wrapped in his arms, pressed against his chest, while the weight of our silence melted around us. The city lights shimmered behind the tall glass windows, casting soft gold across our skin like God was giving us one last chance to get this right.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured into my hair, his voice barely a breath. “For walkin’ away. For lettin’, you carry this alone.”

His hands moved slowly along my back, grounding me. I clutched his shirt, fingers tightening, my voice muffled against his chest. “I didn’t wanna be without you, Ezra. I just didn’t know how to fix it.”

He pulled back just enough to look at me. His eyes were soft but fierce. “Then let’s stop tryna fix it. Let’s just feel it. All of it.”

His lips met mine and it was gentle at first like he was asking permission to touch me again. I kissed him back slowly, savoring the warmth, the ache, and the months of silence we were finally breaking. Our lips moved together like a memory, like something we never forgot how to do.

Ezra kissed my cheek, my jaw, down the column of my neck, and I felt the slow unraveling start. He whispered into my skin, “I’ll always love you, Yavanni.”

Tears welled again, spilling without permission. “I love you too,” I whispered back, breath hitching.

He guided me back toward the couch, never letting go, his hands firm on my hips with his lips trailing over my collarbone. My body ached from the tenderness, from the build-up of somuch longing and guilt and love that never got to finish what it started.

He knelt in front of me, his hands slipping beneath the hem of my dress, eyes locked on mine like he was reading pages only he was meant to see.

“I missed you,” he said softly. “Missed all of this. You… like this.”

I reached for him, pulling him in. “Then take your time,” I whispered. “Feel me again.”

His hands slid over my thighs, under my dress, and he kissed me like it was his first time and his last time and every time we ever wanted but couldn’t have. Ezra lifted me, carried me to his bedroom, and laid me gently across the bed like I was something precious he was afraid to break. He undressed me slowly, eyes trailing over every inch of my changed body. He didn’t flinch. He didn’t hesitate. His palms cupped the curve of my belly with so much love it made me cry ugly tears.

“You even more beautiful now,” he whispered against my stomach, voice shaking. “Carryin’ my child.”

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