Page 20 of You Deserve Good Things

“Nah. You don’t get to hide under polyester sadness today. I came to drag you into the light, and I brought snacks.”

She groaned. “Daniale?—”

“Don’t youDanialeme like I ain’t been watchin’ you mourn like you got a part-time job in misery,” I snapped, sittin’ crisscross in the chair like I was hosting a hood TED Talk.

I hit her with the truth before she could build any mental barricades.

“We gon’ talk about Jacory today.”

Instant lockup. Her whole soul hitfreeze framelike a scene out of a BET drama. The silence in the room got thick enough to chew.

She shook her head, eyes hard. “No, we are not.”

“Yes, the hell we are.”

“No, Dani?—”

“Yes,Yaya.”

She exhaled hard, trying to gather her attitude. But I had been trained in petty warfare and psychological precision.

“You are still in love with that man,” I said matter-of-factly, watching her mouth twitch.

“You still sleep on the left side of the bed like he gon’ slide in behind you. You still cook red beans and rice on Mondays like you are back in New Orleans, waitin’ on him to pull up. You are still replaying every Lil Wayne verse like it was your personal diary. Talking ’bout ‘sleeping at the top, nightmares of the bottom’ like that man ain’t your top and your bottom, your north, south, east and center.”

That was when I saw it. Her defenses faltered. Her lips parted. Her eyes softened just enough to show the storm behind them.

“I left him,” she whispered. “I walked away like a damn coward. I didn’t even say goodbye to him.”

Her voice cracked, and I sat forward, softer this time. “You ain’t a coward, Shaniya. You were broken. And broken people don’t always know how to love when they are drowning, hun.”

She looked away, eyes glossing over like she was tryna hold back the flood.

“I feel like I don’t deserve him, happiness, or anything good . . . If I reach for that kind of love again, the universe gon’ snatch it right back,” she whispered, “like it always does.”

Andthereit was—the real reason.

“You think Silas died because of you. You think Jacory is hurt because of you. So now you are punishing yourself like pain is gon’ bring balance to the universe.”

She bit her lip, shaking her head. I watched her eyes gloss over, her mouth part like she was gon’ say something, but then it just trembled, and she dropped her head into her hands.

“If I find Jacory, . . . and he still loves me? That might break me more than losing him ever did.”

I sat up straight, crossing my arms like I was on Judge Mathis.

“Let me tell you what I know. Niggas like Jacory? The real ones? They don’t fold. They don’t ghost you and move on. Theywait. Theybuild. They love you from a distance, and if he’s anything like the man I peeped in your throwback stories—you have been sittin’ on a forever kind of love.”

She blinked slowly, trying to process.

“And bitch,” I said, waving my phone like a damn wand, “I already found him.”

She snapped to attention so fast I thought her neck cracked.

“Youwhat!”

I turned the screen toward her.

Jacory. Present day. Beard full. Locs flowing down his back. Skin glowed up. Smile strong. He looked like Black royalty dipped in ambition and dripped in grown-man peace.

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