Page 156 of Real's Love

“Take care of yourself, Tate,” I said, as I pushed myself up from the booth. I glanced back at him one last time, feeling a strange mix of gratitude and finality.

“Goodbye, Y— Everly,” he corrected himself, and I left the diner, stepping into the cooler night air with a newfound clarity.

Granny Nette was right. It was time to embrace the present. It was time to embrace Real. And with that thought, I walked away, ready to start my new chapter.

The tripto South Texas had taken an eternity, my mind racing with a swirl of emotions. I could still hear Granny’s words echoing in my ears as I approached Real’s house. My heart pounded louder with each step I took toward his door. I stood on the porch, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows on the ground. I raised my hand to ring the bell but hesitated. What if he didn’t want to see me? What if I was making a huge mistake? I swallowed hard, shaking off my doubts. I was Everly Love Miller, and Montréal Idris Hamilton found me irresistible. Plus, after coming all this way, I had to do this.

I pushed the doorbell and waited, my hand over the camera. I didn’t want him seeing me and acting like he wasn’t here.

“Ay, who the fuck—” his irritated voice came through the speaker.

Even cursing me out, it was good to hear.

“Real, it’s me. E— Love. I wanted to see if we could talk,” I began.

There was a long moment of silence. Then…

“Ain’t you a lil’ too old to be playing on someone’s doorbell camera? I’m sorry, but you came at a bad time, shorty. Text me and maybe we can set something up in a couple of weeks,” he said coolly.

Hurt pierced through me, and I blinked rapidly, refusing to give in to the sudden tears that pooled in my eyes. Instead, I pressed on.

“I’m here to tell you how I feel.”

He laughed, a short harsh bark. “When I was interested in hearing that, you weren’t interested in telling me. You think that just because you show up after three months, everything’s gon’ be fine? You don’t get to just drop back into my life like this.”

“Oh, I’m not dropping in,love. I intend to stay,” I vowed.

I decided to let him have his attitude. It was expected. I’d give him what he wanted for a couple of days, but I’ll be damned if he got weeks. I took a deep breath and turned away from the door.

Fuck this.He was gon’ hear what I had to say before I left. He could sit with it before I came back in a couple of days.

“Real, I just need you to listen to me for a second. I’ve had a lot of time to think. I’ve missed you every single day since you left. I was so busy in my head that I couldn’t accept what was in my face. You showed me everything I didn’t know I still wanted. Made me feel things I didn’t think I could. You were inconvenient and irritating and blew my shit right up. And I love you for it. You said you wanted to keep me, Montréal. Well, I wanna be kept. See you later.”

“Don’t you mean, ‘bye?’”

“No, Montréal. I mean, ‘see you later.’ I’ll be back, and I’ma keep coming back until you’re ready to listen.”

Silence hung heavily in the air. Sighing, I knew I had done all that I could short of crashing out and finding a way to break into his house. As tempting as that was, I had to go, had to play this his way for now.

I had taken two steps away when he spoke again.

“What if I’m never ready to listen?” he challenged.

A slow smile curved my mouth.

“I’m a southern girl. Don’t you ever doubt the power of my persuasion.”

* * *

A family emergency had kept Taleah and Kelsey from celebrating on Labor Day, but they were making up for it now. They were co-hosting a cookout at Kelsey and Chill’s house. The backyard event was in full swing and had spilled into the front yard and down the street.

“People come when Chill is on the grill,” Chill had said with supreme confidence, and he wasn’t lying. A block party was brewing, laughter and the mouthwatering, smoky aroma of grilled food filling the air. Even though I was a little fucked up about Montréal Hamilton—he hadn’t responded to me all week and I only had a few days before I went back— I felt a better mood come over me as I chatted with Taleah. The atmosphere of joy was infectious. Taleah and Kelsey were always wonderful hosts, and today was no exception. The cousins knew how to work a party.

“Ev, you gotta try this potato salad,” she said, her eyes sparkling. “It’s my mama’s secret recipe. You gon’ love it!”

I looked at her skeptically. I considered myself a potato salad connoisseur. While my favorite was the slightly sweet Amish kind, I would even make—and eat—theGerman style. When someone asked, “Who made the potato salad?” at my family’s gatherings, they got pissed if the answer wasn’t Everly Love.

“I love you, Leah, but Mama better bring it,” I warned as I took the small plate she offered.

---