Page 59 of You Deserve Good Things

Wrapped in three tiny blessings. Breathing. Living. Crying. Real.

Our legacy. Our promise. Our answered prayer.

And I would spend every damn day, for the rest of my life, making sure they knew they were made from love, loss, and a God who did not miss when He blessed.

The day we brought our babies home felt like a movie, a slow-motion, soft-focused, heart-gripping masterpiece that not even Hollywood could recreate. The sun was beaming like it knew it had an important role to play. The sky was painted with strokes of honey and blush, and the wind carried the kind of breeze that felt like a hug from the heavens.

The car ride home was damn near comical.

Jacory was driving five miles per hour like he was transporting a van full of diamonds, glancing in the rearview mirror every thirty seconds like the babies were gon’ vanish if he blinked too long.

“Jacory,” I groaned, fighting a smile, “we live eight minutes away, and it’s already been twenty.”

He didn’t even look at me. “I don’t care if it takes forty. My kids gon’ arrive in perfect condition.”

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t lie—watching him act like the President of Baby Transport Security had me falling in love with him all over again.

The back seat looked like Babyland USA exploded—car seats were locked in like fortresses, diaper bags packed like bug-out bags, and three tiny hats peeking over soft blankets.

Sawyer, the diva already, was grunting like the car seat was beneath her standards.

Sage was sleeping peacefully, her whole aura givingZen goddess in training.

And Silas? Oh, he was chilling like his name was on the lease.

When we pulled up to the house, our front door was already flung open. Pink and blue balloons lined the walkway. A banner hung across the porch: “Welcome Home, Baby James Triplets!”

And waiting on the steps was the whole damn crew. Our entire village was present, and I couldn’t be more ecstatic to see them.

Mama Shari had her phone out, crying before she even saw the babies. “My grandbabies coming home! Jesus, take me now!”

Papa Samuel was quiet, just rocking on the porch swing, looking like his whole bloodline just got secured.

Daniale was waving her arms like she was flagging in a plane. “Bring me my nieces and nephew before I lose my mind!”

Chase had his camera out, recording everything. “Y’all ain’t about to tell this story wrong. I need evidence. I need proof. I need B-roll, baby!”

Jacory stepped out of the car like he was in a slow-motion Super Bowl commercial, carefully unbuckling each car seat likethey were gold bars. He handed me Sage, took Sawyer, and handed Silas to Chase—who damn near fainted.

“Yo . . . this lil’ nigga got some weight on him!” Chase exclaimed. “He built like he already know how to fight! He is already the protector of his sisters.”

I laughed, snuggling Sage to my chest. Her breath was warm against my skin, her tiny fingers curling into my hoodie like she’d already picked her favorite person.

Mama Justine reached out with trembling hands. “Let me see my grands. Let me just look at them. My God, they’re absolutely stunning.”

Daniale peeked over her shoulder, cooing. “Why are they so perfect though? Auntie’s babies are serving up looks. They don’t even look like potatoes like babies mostly do fresh out.”

Jacory burst out laughing, then leaned over, smirking. “Not potatoes, sis. We don’t do ugly over here. Genetics have been blessed, baby.”

Once inside, the energy shifted. Quiet awe filled the air as we laid them in their bassinets, one by one.

Three bassinets, side by side.

Sawyer yawned first, her whole face scrunching up like she had real opinions.

Sage blinked up at the ceiling like she saw angels dancing in the light fixtures.

Silas? He smirked. Swear to God. That boy smirked in his sleep like he knew he was named after greatness.

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