Page 46 of You Deserve Good Things

“I’ma love you past this life, baby. Silas knew. I know. And now? You know too.”

I broke again, but this time? It was cleansing. Healing. Freeing.

He pulled me into his lap, holding me like I was something precious. Like I was something holy. And for the first time in forever, I believed it.

“You believe him now?” he whispered.

I nodded into his chest. “I do.”

He kissed my forehead, slow, soft, sacred.

“Good,” he whispered. “Then let’s give him the peace he earned. And give ourselves the love we deserve.”

I exhaled. Deep. Long. Final. I finally let go.

The air was heavy.Not the bad kind but the kind that wraps around your lungs, thick with magic and memories; the kind that makes your heartbeat sound like drums in a second line parade. This wasn’t just a wedding. This was a prophecy in motion. A divine orchestration of everything Jacory and I had been through—every tear, every laugh, every moment that brought us back to each other, all wrapped in lace and sacred promises.

I stood in the back of the church, with my heart doin’ the Cupid Shuffle in my chest while I tried to keep my damn knees from knocking together like faulty wind chimes. My fingers trembled as they traced the bodice of my dress—one that looked like it had been kissed by angels and stitched by the ancestors.

It was perfect. A couture masterpiece dipped in dreams and wrapped in reverence. Mermaid-cut with a train long enough to make Beyoncé side-eye, the gown hugged me in all the right places, cinched at the waist, then flowed out like drama and elegance had a baby. The lace appliqué looked like vines of love, crawling down the silk like they had stories to tell. Each pearl and crystal sewn in shimmered like stardust had landed on me.

My off-the-shoulder sleeves framed my skin like a soft spotlight. Honey-kissed and glowing, my shoulders looked like poetry in motion. My veil flowed behind me like a silk river, long and regal, trailing my movements like even the air was too in love to let me go.

My locs had been gathered into a braided bun so intricate, it looked like it had been carved by divine hands. My baby hairs were slicked to the gods, and my edges were laid like concrete at a luxury condo. My makeup was ethereal. It was a blend of golden hues and rich nudes that made me look like I belonged on the cover of a Black love fairy tale. Glossed lips. Lashes like butterfly wings. Cheeks glowing like sunlight dancing on brown sugar.

I looked like love personified.

And still, I had never been this damn nervous in my life.

I clutched my daddy’s arm like it was the last piece of land on a sinking ship. My hands were sweating, my knees threatening mutiny, and my throat thick with tears tryna crawl out uninvited.

“Baby,” Daddy whispered, his voice scratchy with unshed tears, like gravel soaked in love. “You look so damn beautiful.”

I sniffled, blinking fast. “Thank you, Daddy.”

He paused, his throat moving like he was swallowing the weight of a thousand memories. “I knew this day would come. I just ain’t expect it to hit me like this.”

He turned, wiping the corner of my eye the same way he did when I was a baby with jelly on my face. “You good, baby girl?”

I nodded, but the truth was, my soul was spilling outta me like sweet tea over ice—slow, sticky, and a little too much to contain.

“Aight.” He cleared his throat. “Let’s go give you away before I change my mind and lock you in your room forever.”

And then I saw him. Jacory James. My forever.

He was standing tall at the altar like he was carved from Black excellence and baptized in cocoa butter. His tux was tailor-made perfection—sleek black, with a satin lapel hugging his broad chest like it was in love too. A deep burgundy rose sat on his chest like it was tryna compete with the fire in his eyes.

His locs were fresh and hangin’ just right. His beard was lined like destiny. His skin was glowing like he’d been kissed by moonlight. He was damn near trembling with love, with pride, and with every ounce of emotion that a real man let rise when he saw the woman he prayed for walking toward him in white.

He didn’t blink. Didn’t move. He just stared at me like I was the only breath he had left in his lungs.

I knew then for sure that every trial, every tear, every time I doubted whether I was worthy of this kind of love—it all made sense now. It led me to him, and he had been waiting the whole time.

When we reached the altar, Daddy paused, like he wasn’t quite ready to let me go. He held my hand, rubbed the back of it with that calloused thumb of his, then finally placed it in Jacory’s.

“I know you are going to take care of my baby, son,” he said, voice tight but strong.

Jacory’s jaw flexed. “Always.”

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