Page 121 of Lily In The Valley
“Because it’s always true.”
We stopped at a crosswalk, the little blinking hand holding us in place. The streetlight caught her in that moment, turning the gold undertone in her skin a sensual amber. Her hair framed her face in soft shadows.
I wanted to say something. Ask something. But instead, I reached for her hand, slow and steady.
She didn’t pull away.
We crossed the street like that, her fingers laced in mine. No declarations. No promises. Just skin and warmth and the kind of silence that felt earned.
By the time we reached her building and entered her apartment, Karter was curled up in his cage, snoring softly. We took turns freshening up and changing into pajamas. Cuddled on the couch, she draped a thick blanket over our laps, her head resting on my shoulder as I wrapped my arms around her neck. She put onSelena.
“Really,” I groaned.
She grinned. “You need balance. And culture. Besides, can you really say you’re from Texas if you’ve never seenSelena?”
As the movie played, we shifted positions to lay on the couch, her legs tangled with mine, her head resting on my chest. Karter continued snoring like he paid rent. Kelly whispered quotes under her breath. I rolled my eyes as she repeated the Tejano singers dances under the cover, singing along.
And when the last scene came—the candles, the voiceover, the lone white rose thrown to the stage—I realized she’d gone quiet, save for a few sniffles. I turned her face to mine. Her eyes were glassy with red strains. Anguished.
“What’s wrong, Lily-Girl?” I asked, wiping her tears.
“I haven’t watched this movie since…” I felt her breath stutter against my chest. “This song just hits something in my chest now that Mama’s gone.” I pulled her up my body, so her face was level with mine, pressing a kiss onto each cheek and her forehead.
“Khalil,” she started. “It’s not my place to tell you what to do because we all know I hate people telling me what I should do. But if my mother were still here, and I had the chance to forgive her, I would.”
My jaw tightened. Kelly said the one thing I didn’t want to hear out loud. Not tonight. Not while the re-opened wounds were still raw from seeing the woman who left me like a damn ghost story no one ever finished telling.
“Not because she earned it,” she continued. “But because I’m tired of carrying the burden of everything she couldn’t fix.”
I looked away, blinking slowly. My chest pulled tight, like her words laced around the hurt just tight enough to squeeze it free. Kelly didn’t flinch. She held my gaze.
“She looked me in the eye and told me she thought leaving me was better than breaking me.”
“And she was wrong,” Kelly replied gently.
“I know. My brain knows that, but my body doesn’t. My muscles tighten every time I think about the birthdays she missed. The first days of school. Fuck. I used to go to sleep at night, hoping, praying I’d wake up and she’d be back in the kitchen making breakfast.”
Kelly’s hand slid over my chest, grounding me.
“I don’t want to hate her,” I admitted. “But I don’t want to forgive her either.”
“Forgiveness isn’t for her,” she said, her voice soft. “It’s for the part of you still waiting by the window for her to turn around.”
I closed my eyes and let her words settle, choosing not to argue. She held me. I let her.
“And if you want to hate her and never talk to her again. Then fuck that bitch. Just have a conversation and hear her out first.”
Chapter 36
Khalil
Kelly broughtup me talking to LaToya again once more. I promised I’d go and try to hear her out. As I waited for the elevator to reach Kahlia’s floor, there was still a knot in my chest. Still a tremble in places I couldn’t name. But there was also curiosity. I counted down the room numbers, until I got to the one Kelly texted me. I stopped outside the door and looked through the glass. Kahlia sat up in bed, sketching. Big curls were pulled into two ponytails at the base of her neck. Toya sat beside her, reading something off her phone. Her eyes flicked up as I approached. She stood slowly. I pushed the door open and stepped inside.
Kahlia looked up, eyes wide, glancing between her mother and me.
“Hi,” I said, voice low.
Kahlia blinked. “Are you the guy my mama said looks like me?”
