Page 24 of You Deserve Good Things

I sniffed. “Hi to you too.”

“Don’t ‘hi’ me, ho. You saw him, didn’t you? You saw Jacory?”

“Yeah . . .”

“And now you sittin’ in your car cryin’ like somebody canceledGirlfriendsmid-season? Girl, get the hell outta here.”

I wiped my nose, shaking my head. “I walked out before I could say something stupid.”

“Oh, so you did somethin’ even stupider. Cool. Love that for you.”

“Dani—”

“Nah, I’m talkin’. You sittin’ there lookin’ like a Fantasia lyric come to life. That man would gargle hot sauce just to hear you say his name. He’d swallow glass and chase it with your tears. He would write odes to your elbows if you let him.”

I wheezed a laugh. “You are nasty and dramatic.”

“I’m honest, and you are lucky to have me. You over there stuck in a thought spiral while he sittin’ in that bookstore looking like a renaissance sculpture dipped in chocolate dreams, wondering why his soul just walked out the door.”

The silence on my end said it all.

“You love him, Shaniya. I know it. He knows it. Hell, strangers on the internet know it. But you convinced yourself love means losing. That if you let him in too close, he gon’ disappear like everybody else you’ve buried in your heart. But, girl . . . he’s not a ghost. He’s your anchor.”

I blinked fast, tears falling again. “You think I deserve him?”

“Bitch. Yes. You deserve a man who would fight off a swarm of wasps just to warm up your car. You deserve forehead kisses, real apologies, and deep-fried loyalty. And Jacory? Hebeenready. Since y’all was sharing Capri Suns and chubby crushes.”

I full-on laughed. Chest shook. Pain cracked open just enough to let air in.

“He don’t even see nobody else. He acts like you are the last Wi-Fi bar on a damn airplane and his soul got five tabs open.”

“Stop.”

“I will not. You left that man on read for four years and now you are scared to press ‘reply.’ Sis. Either go see him or start a YouTube channel about heartbreak and herbal tea.”

“Okay, damn.”

“Nope. Don’t ‘okay, damn’ me. I already texted him. Told him where you are gon’ be. If you got any parts of your ovaries intact, you better walk in that café like it’s a courtroom and you pleading your case for love.”

“Wait. You what?”

“Oh, don’t act brand new, baby girl. Pull up, or I will pull up for you.”

Click.

The café smelled like cinnamon wishes and caramel warmth. Soft jazz played like the room had a pulse, and my nerves? They were doing backflips in combat boots.

I tucked myself into the farthest booth, cappuccino untouched, staring at the door like it held my fate. Every time it creaked open, my breath hitched.

Then he walked in.

Jacory.

Tall like truth. Built like answers. Brown skin glowing like dusk loved him. His chain glinted like a promise, and his walk? A smooth glide that said, “I been looking for you.”

He spotted me. No hesitation. Just that slow, syrupy smirk.

He slid into the booth across from me like we had unfinished poetry to write.

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