I smirked. “The elevation just means I’ll bury a nigga in style.”
That got the table laughin’ again, the tension easin’ just enough. More wings hit the table along wit’ more shots, but my mind was already ‘head of this moment. Already calculatin’. I was gon’ give Coogs a few more days to come to his senses and accept my offer before I played my hand. That shit was grace, not weakness.
I wasn’t the same nigga I used to be, but that old me? That savage? He was still in me. I just chose to keep him quiet… for now.
Five Days Later
(5 Days Until The Wedding)
I tw a sr a i n i n ghard as hell. Like, the kind of rain that made you want to stay in the house under a blanket with snacks and a good movie. Getting your pussy ate off the bone and put through the mattress. But instead, I was driving in my new G-Wagon to spend the evening with voices flying from every direction, pots clinking, and a TV loud in the background. Better known as… Knuck’s grandmother’s house.
He sat in the passenger seat with Kassim’s diaper bag at his feet and a Styrofoam cup of Don Julio in his hand. “You sure you good wit’ everything the doctor said?”
“I’m fine,” I answered, keeping both hands on the wheel. I could feel his stare. “I’m serious. She said Zoloft starts working in two weeks and therapy every Tuesday at nine.”
Knuck leaned over and kissed my cheek. My stomach fluttered; the postpartum rage diagnosis still pressed heavy on my mind, but his calm beside me helped. “I love you.”
“I know. You’re really okay with the meds?” I asked quietly.
“I’m okay wit’ whatever keeps your head straight,” he said. “Long as it doesn’t mess wit’ that crazy head game.”
I shot him a side-eye. “Keon, focus.”
He smirked and tapped the bottle. “Two weeks, right?”
“Two weeks.”
“Bet. I’ma count ‘em down.”
Rain was still beating down outside when we arrived but I gathered myself and Kassim’s things. Shaking the water off my coat, I stepped carefully inside Granny Evie’s house, easing into the familiar chaos.
“Bout time!” Keema’s voice came from the living room before I even saw her face. “We been waitin’ on the bride-to-be! Get in here and tell us what kinda chicken you want before Uncle Buck puts BBQ sauce on all the wings!”
Inside, heat and commotion swallowed me whole. I dodged pots clanging around me, flinched as the Celtics game blared from the TV, and spotted someone huddled in the corner, their phone speaker leaking R&B. The house smelled like baked chicken, greens, and burnt hair grease.
Knuck handed Kassim to Monae’s eager arms. She pressed kisses to his cheeks. “My baby!”
I slipped my raincoat off, shaking rain from the hem. Uncle Buck lifted his can. “Niggas can’t never arrive nowhere on time,” he teased.
“Ny, your mama is the shit. She had me and Nae’s bridesmaid dresses shipped to the house, so all we gotta do is get ‘em altered. My baby daddy gon’ besickwhen he sees me on social media wit’ that sage poppin’ on my chocolate skin, bihhh!”
“Move ‘round, aggy,” Knuck dismissed her, keeping his hand on the small of my back as we moved towards the kitchen. “Milt ain’t thinkin’ ‘bout your ass. Long as he’s still in Nae’s life, that’s all that matters.”
The noise wrapped around me, warm and chaotic. For a second, it felt perfect. Then a knock hammered the door with three solid hits. Every conversation died, Uncle Buck muted the TV, and Monae froze mid-selfie.
Granny Evie kept setting the table like nothing new could surprise her. “Who is it?” she called out.
“Coogs, Granny,” a deep voice answered.
I watched Knuck’s entire body tighten with his eyes fixed on the door, jaw flexing.
Granny Evie’s face lit. “Coogs? I ain’t seen him in years. Keema, go let him in!”
“Fuck, no,” Knuck snapped, but his sister was already swaying to the door.
It swung open, and in walked a tall, Deebo-looking nigga wearing a black coat that dripped puddles on the carpet. He scanned the room like he was looking for someone in particular. His eyes found me, lingered, then slid to Knuck.
Granny shuffled over to the front door to hug him. “You still fine as ever.”