Page 353 of Kentrell

“It’s just…” She took a deep breath, and I felt the little tremor that ran through her body. Instinct had me pulling her closer. “Kendra never liked me,” she admitted, staring straight ahead like she was confessing something heavy. “And I didn’t like her either.” Her voice cracked just a little at the end.

I stayed quiet… already knowing the history… already knowing every reason why. Nestling my head on top of hers, I felt her push back into me harder, like there was still space left between us that she needed to close. “It’s just sad,” she whispered finally.

We laid there in silence for a while… her breathing slowed, but her mind clearly wasn’t. Then she spoke again. “And Malcolm… they were close in the office.” She said it like she was putting puzzle pieces together out loud… like she felt sorry for him… not even knowing the half of who Malcolm and Kendra really were to each other… or how deep this mess went. “He’s gonna be devastated once he finds out,” she added, her voice small.

“Shit… he gon’ be devastated once his ass gets that prison sentence too.” I sucked my teeth, shaking my head. Zoe wiggledbeneath me, pushing back just enough to turn and face me, giving me that look like she was trying to gauge how serious I was.

“You think… whatever charges they give him will stick?” Still so clueless… still so softhearted when it came to this shit.

“Hell yeah,” I said without hesitation. And I meant that. Especially with the way I’d already had his wires rerouted… flipped… tied right back to Kendra’s murder like a failed murder-for-hire plot gone wrong… all courtesy of yours truly. Checkmate.

“That nigga goin’ away for life.” I leaned in and kissed her lips, soft but solid.

“Go to sleep, bae.”

“Okay…” she breathed, snuggling deeper into me.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, ma.”

EPILOGUE

ZOE | SATURDAY MARCH 22

Something blue…

Gazing at my reflection in the mirror, my eyes kept dropping from my face to the center of my stomach. Five months.

I smiled, circling my hand over the small pouch that I could still easily conceal if I sucked in my breath.

Kentrell hated when I did that—claiming I was somehow hurting his baby. Something my OB-GYN later confirmed to be a myth. She’d said our bodies were a fortress for the baking bundle inside… built to protect… not fragile enough for breath control to do any real harm.

To which my mama had added her own down-home wisdom: “If God wants this baby to be here—it’s gon’ be here.”

Apparently, that’s what Granny used to say all the time… especially after my auntie Zonda’s miscarriages and Mama’s pregnancy scares back in the day.

I kept circling my hand… dazed, smiling, counting down the months until I’d finally have my baby in my arms.

Kentrell was worse than me. So attentive. So possessive. Not just of me—but our unborn, too.

He made sure we both ate. Always had my favorite snacks stashed somewhere. Rubbed my feet every night like it was on his to-do list. And finished all eight seasons ofScrubswith me like a man on a mission.

Now he watched the reruns on his own whenever he thought I’d fallen asleep… one hand on my belly… the other fisting M&M’s as he laughed at jokes we’d both heard ten times already.

“Zoe!”

I heard the gasp behind me and turned, thinking it was one of the wedding planners coming to rush me along.

But my breath caught.

It wasn’t a planner.

It was Shaniece Johnson…

Standing there… glowing… dressed in that liquid satin, deep-champagne, spaghetti strap, bias-cut gown with the soft cowl neckline that draped perfectly across her bust.

The same dress I’d picked out for her back when me, my girls, Mama, and Aunt Zonda went dress shopping.

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