I leaned back in the chair, eyes drifting toward the water. The waves moved steadily, unbothered, crashing and pulling back in a rhythm that didn't ask for anybody's permission. I wondered how many times I'd told myself I was good just because things weren't falling apart. How many times had I confused endurance with happiness?
"Umhm. We'll let you have that for now, Nia," Amina said, pointing the blunt at me, eyes narrowed, playful but knowing. "But you gon' come up off what's been goin' on. You always wanna be so damn secretive." I smiled like it was funny. "Anyway," she went on, waving her hand, "my husband keeptalkin' 'bout a son. Honey, I'm duckin' and dodgin' that. I'm tempted to sneak off and get my tubes tied."
"Hey, don't start no shit now," Chiana said, laughing, and we all cracked up. "I'm done havin' kids, that's for sure," she added, leaning back in her chair. "But I wanna do somethin' big for our anniversary this year. I just ain't figured it out yet. “I listened more than I talked, nodding, smiling when it was my turn. Their voices blended with the sound of the ocean and the wind moving through the rails. Women talking about plans. About futures. About decisions that felt intentional.
Evie stepped out onto the balcony like she'd been summoned by the smoke. "While y'all up here smokin' like a choo-choo train, y'all husbands ready to eat, and I'm not fixin' their plates." We laughed.
"Evie, them your kids." Chiana said, still smiling. "We fixed our kids' food."
"When y'all married them muthafuckas, they became y'all kids," Evie shot back, already turning to walk away. "No longer my responsibility."
We followed her downstairs still laughing, the sound of us filling the stairwell, feet thudding softly against wood. For a moment, it felt easy. When we stepped back into the kitchen, the men were crowded around the counter, talking about something serious enough to have all their heads bent toward each other. Bottles and cups were scattered. Kids weaving through legs, grabbing fruit, bumping elbows. "Damn, y'all smell like dope," Pierre said when we came in, wrinkling his nose.
Amina smacked her lips. "Mind your business."
I caught sight of Jules then. He was leaning against the end of the counter, arms crossed, body relaxed but not loose. His eyes weren't focused on anything in particular, just somewhere past the room. He was having a side conversation with Juste, voices low, heads close. He looked present. But not with me. That was becoming familiar.
I hesitated before moving closer, my steps slower than they needed to be. I didn't know how to act. That was the truth of it. I knew how he wanted me to act. Quiet. Accommodating. The same way I always had. But something in me resisted it now, small and stubborn. "You want me to fix your plate?" I asked him low, not looking straight at him. It felt awkward coming out of my mouth. Like a habit I hadn't practiced in a while.
"Yeah," he said, glancing at me once before turning back to Juste. That was it. No, thank you. No acknowledgment beyond the need being met, just expectation. I told myself not to read into it. I fixed his plate anyway. Because that's what I did.
I laid on my back in the chair as the boat floated on the water, the gentle rock of it steady enough to lull but not enough to let me sleep. The sun beamed down on me, glaring through the shades I had covering my eyes. I tilted my head just enough to catch the breeze off the water, salt thick in the air, the sound of waves slapping against the sides of the boat soft and repetitive. It was quiet in a way that didn't feel empty.
Jules walked to the end of my seat and sat down, lifting my feet into his lap like it was something he'd done a thousand times before. His hands were warm against my skin as he pulled at my toes, popping them one by one, familiar and careful out ofhabit. "You enjoying yourself?" he asked, eyes fixed on the water instead of me. I nodded, closing my eyes behind the glasses. It was easier to answer like that. Enjoying myself felt like a dangerous thing to say out loud. Like naming it might make it disappear. Like admitting I could still feel pleasure might somehow disrespect all the grief I carried with me everywhere I went.
The boat drifted, engines humming low, music playing somewhere toward the front. Laughter rose and fell around us. Noles yelling at somebody about holding a cup steady. Amina laughing loud and unbothered. For a moment, everything felt suspended. Just sun. Water. Noise that wasn't asking anything from me. "What you say we just go with the flow while we here," Jules said after a while. "I don't want shit to feel so tense every time we around each other." His hands stilled on my feet. I opened my eyes and stared up at the sky through my shades. Blue stretched wide and endless above us, not a cloud in sight.
Go with the flow. That was always his answer. Don't push. Don't pull. Just exist in the middle and hope nothing breaks. "That," I said, lifting my shades just enough to look at him, "or do you just not want people asking questions? Which is it?" He took his hands off my feet, then reached for his cup, eyes still not meeting mine. The pause before his response stretched long enough to feel intentional. Before he could answer, Amina popped up beside us with a tray of shots, already loud, already grinning. "Time to get drunk!" she yelled.
I sat up, sliding my feet out of Jules' lap and swinging them over the side of the chair. "Give me two," I said, pushing myself up and walking toward her. The wood of the boat was warm under my feet as I moved away from him. I didn't look back. The tequila burned going down, sharp and quick, settlinglow in my chest like a spark. I took the second one right after, barely flinching. "Damn," Amina laughed. "Okay then. “I smiled, but it didn't quite reach all the way.
I leaned against the rail, looking out at the water, watching it stretch and pull and shift without ever asking permission. Boats passed in the distance. People waved. Music drifted from somewhere else. I felt lighter. And that scared me. Because I hadn't done anything to earn it. It was just space doing what space does, giving you room to breathe, whether you deserve it or not.
I felt Jules come up beside me before I saw him. His presence always announced itself. He was quiet but solid, familiar enough that my body reacted before my mind caught up. He leaned his arms on the rail next to mine, close but not touching. That space between us felt deliberate. Chosen. "Let me holler at you below for a second below deck," he said, eyes fixed on the water instead of me.
Something in me tightened. "No," I said, turning just enough to look at him. "I'm drinkin' and about to have a good time. We can talk about whatever you want later. It's blowin' me that you choose now to have a deep, civil conversation." I held his gaze this time. There was no depth in his eyes. No intention to talk anything out. Just heat. Familiar hunger. The same look he always got when he wanted to bypass the hard part and go straight to something physical. Like closeness could be substituted for understanding. He wasn't tryna talk. He was tryna get some ass. That realization sat heavy in my chest. I didn't confuse that with love this time.
I rolled my eyes and turned away before he could respond, walking toward Chiana, Amina, and Ayida, who were already laughing too loud about something I didn't catch.
I didn't look back.
The next night, the house felt different. Quieter. The kids were asleep, doors cracked just enough to hear breathing if you listened. Evie and Saint were gone on a date, dressed up and smiling like they were young again. The balcony lights were dimmed low, city glow bleeding in from a distance, ocean air thick and warm.
We sat up there drinking, music playing soft in the background. Chiana and Juste were up dancing toSo Into You, bodies close, movements loose and unbothered. They were deep in their cups, laughing, swaying like the world stopped outside the rhythm.
"Aight, y'all ain't no spring chickens no more with all that windin' and grindin'," Noles commented, shaking his head. Everybody laughed, including them.
"You better hope you smooth enough to keep Ayida happy enough to wanna dance in the middle of the floor in front of everybody," Juste shot back, flipping him off.
"Enough of all that lovey-lovey touchin' y'all got goin' on," Amina waved them off. "Let's talk about us."
She leaned forward in her chair, eyes bright but serious. "Where do y'all see us five years from now?" The question settled heavy. I stared out past the balcony rail, watching the lights shimmer. Five years felt like a lifetime, like something I didn't know how to plan for anymore.
"Shid," Noles said, breaking the silence. "Hopefully, on another one of these flashy-ass vacations my brother put together."
We laughed.
"But nah, for real," he continued, sobering up just a notch. "I just want a whole lot of happiness and love. We had enough fucked-up times."