Page 60 of You Deserve Good Things

I sat on the couch, leaning back as the weight of everything finally settled in my chest like warm honey. Jacory sat beside me, his hand resting over mine. His voice was low, reverent, sacred.

“We brought them home, baby.”

I nodded, tears welling in my eyes again.

“We really did.”

He kissed my shoulder, then my cheek, then my temple. “I love you. I love them. I love this life we built.”

“Even the three a.m. diaper changes?” I teased.

He smirked. “Especially those. ’Cause they mean you are still here. We are still here.”

And in that still, sacred silence—babies breathing slow, hearts beating steady, love thick in the air like incense—I knew we had crossed into something eternal.

We were not just parents. Not just partners. But architects of a legacy, and builders of a bond that not even time could bend.

And as Jacory wrapped his arm around me, pulling me closer while the babies slept soundly in our home for the very first time, I whispered a prayer into the quiet.

“Thank you, God . . . for letting me stay, for letting us love, for proving one more time . . . we really do deserve good things.”

Some nights,I lay next to her and wondered how a broken boy from the 9th got blessed with a forever like this. My baby. My anchor in every storm. My sunrise in the middle of a dark season. She was a whole prayer walkin’ around in a bonnet and bunny slippers, wearing motherhood like royalty draped in strength. She was everything I knew she’d be and more, and I was eternally grateful to call her mine.

And these kids, Lord, help us. The triplets. Silas, Sawyer, and Sage. They were my lil’ three-piece combo sent straight from Heaven and dipped in chaos. They hit the ground runnin’ every morning like they had somewhere to be and a deadline to destroy peace. There was no such thing as quiet in the James household. Peace clocked out the day they were born.

This morning, my boy Silas came in swinging a wooden spoon like it was a lightsaber, yelling, “I’m the boss now!” with nothing but a diaper and glitter socks on. Sawyer was under the dining room table eating dry cereal out the box like it was survival mode, grinning like she just hit the jackpot. And Sage, that girl had climbed halfway up the bookshelf like she was auditioning for American Ninja Warrior, quiet as a feather, eyes wise like she already knew secrets we hadn’t even whispered yet.

I walked out, rubbin’ my eyes, scratching my chest, mumbling, “Lord . . . come get Yo’ strongest soldiers. They are giving me a run for my money, and I’m tired.”

Then I saw her. Shaniya. My wife. My soft place. My world. She was standin’ in the kitchen like a sunrise in motion—locs in a loose pineapple, one slipper on, hummin’ to herself while rocking Sage on her hip and flipping pancakes with the other hand. That sun was hittin’ her skin like gold worships her, and the light been praying to land on her.

“Hey, Daddy,” she said, her sexy voice sweet like syrup sliding down fresh beignets.

I walked over to her, wrapped my arms around her waist, and kissed the spot between her shoulder and neck. “You are still my favorite kind of beautiful, even when you smell like maple syrup and baby wipes.”

She laughed, leaning into me. “Baby, stop being fresh with me. That’s how we got these three little no limit soldiers. Can you go change Sawyer before she turns this kitchen into a crime scene.” Then she added, “And grab Silas before he jousts the couch cushions into the next dimension, please.”

Marriage wasn’t for the faint, but this kind of love, it had a backbone. It had scars and soft landings, arguments and apologies, midnight cries and morning makeups. This love had soul. We were holding each other down like anchors in a storm,buildin’ somethin’ sturdy in a world that kept tryin’ to shake us loose.

We were still slow dancing barefoot in the kitchen when the babies fell asleep. Still sneaking kisses in the pantry like high school kids. I was still falling in love every time she laughed out loud or touched my chest when she was talkin’. I called her “Baby” so much, it sounded like a prayer. I made her feel cherished and loved every chance I got.

And we weren’t just raisin’ babies. We were raisin’ hope.

Silas’s Solacewas a whole movement now. We are helping men find the words they never knew they had. Brothers walked in stiff with silence and left lighter with truth. I saw my old self in every one of ’em, and I helped them breathe.

Shaniya’s Sanctum,that was her entire heart beating outside her chest. It was a haven for women who weren’t just survivors but fighters. She poured life into broken mamas, sisters, grandmothers, cousins, and bruised spirits. Every time I saw her with those women, eyes soft but voice firm, I fell deeper. She was a healer. My healer. I couldn’t be prouder of her.

Today, the backyard looked like a block party dipped in love.

The music was loud, grill hot, and laughter was even louder. My mama was back and forth from the kitchen to outside with all kinds of pans of meat. Mama Shari was tryna guard the potato salad like it was classified. Papa Samuel was flipping ribs like he tryna earn a trophy. Auntie Rochelle had been dancing since noon when she pulled up. There were kids screaming and playing and running around. Dogs were barking, water balloons flying. That trio of ours were everywhere at once. Sawyer was in the dog bowl tryna baptize the poor puppy. Silas was damn nearnaked in the kiddie pool singing “Wheels on the Bus.” And the last one—Sage, of course—sitting on the cooler holding court like a baby boss.

I was shirtless behind the grill ’cause my baby said I looked like a tall glass of lemonade. And when she said it? I believed it.

Then Chase and Daniale walked in. Late, loud, lookin’ like the pilot episode of a rom-com no one asked for but everybody was watchin’.

“Aye, y’all miss me?” Chase hollered, throwing his arm around Daniale’s shoulders.

She snatched his drink and sipped it like she paid for it. “You talk too much.”

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