Page 25 of You Deserve Good Things

“Hey, beautiful. You really thought I wasn’t gon’ come, my love?”

My heart thudded so loud I swore the windows heard it.

“I wasn’t sure you’d want to.”

He leaned forward, takin’ my hand like he was reminding me what safe felt like.

“Then you don’t know me like you used to, baby.”

“Why . . . why didn’t you hate me?”

He exhaled, stood up. My chest clenched—till he slid next to me, arms already wrapping around my waist like home.

“Because I love you. I never stopped. Not when you left. Not when I wondered why. I didn’t just love the girl—I love the woman. The one who still shows up even after life knocked her down. You have been stuck in my spirit like a Sunday hymn.”

Tears blurred my vision. He turned to me, his thumb catching each one.

“My love for you ain’t some teenage dream. It’s real. It’s loud. It’s got roots and wings. I ain’t scared of the dark ’cause I know the light got your name on it.”

He tilted his head, smilin’ soft.

“You my peace, Yaya. You my poem, my prayer, my forever. I didn’t wait all this time just to lose you again.”

I cried harder, but it felt good this time. Like I was releasin’ ghosts.

“You always say the right thing.”

He grinned. “That’s ’cause I mean every syllable.”

Brrt. Brrt.

My phone buzzed.

Daniale:

Did he cry yet or y’all still bein’ dramatic?

I passed it to him.

He laughed. “Yo, she wild.”

“She’s you. Just with edges.”

“Say less.”

And for the first time in what felt like forever, I didn’t feel broken. I felt like I was finally, finally home.

A Man with a Plan

I had never beenthe type to chase no woman. Never had to. My presence alone had always been enough—tall, chocolate, and dipped in divine timing. But Shaniya? She was the one exception to every rule I ever lived by. The one girl I never got over, the one woman I would spin the world backwards for, just to have another chance. The love of my damn life, in brains and beauty, sitting across from me like she hadn’t just resurrected every dead part of me by walking back into my orbit.

She had this soft ass glow about her, even when she looked like she was tryna fold herself into the corner of the café. Her hands wrapped around her cup like it was keeping her fromfalling apart. Her nails were fresh, lilac with little gold accents, the kind of detail only a woman who still gave a damn about herself would rock. But her eyes? They told a whole different story. Still those same rich mocha brown windows I used to lose sleep over, but now? They were heavier. Like they had seen some shit. Like they were carrying grief in the corners and guilt in the shadows.

I leaned back in my chair, just watching her. Soaking her in like she was the last drop of water on a hot-ass Houston day. The type of beauty that wasn’t loud, but it demanded attention anyway. Her hair was longer now, pulled back in a soft bun with some curls hanging out like they didn’t follow no rules either. That was her all day—sweet, stubborn, and still fine as hell without even trying.

“How long have you been in Houston, baby?” I asked, keeping my tone low and steady, like I didn’t want to spook her.

She glanced up from her cup, biting the inside of her cheek before answering.

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