Page 28 of Breeze and Melodie

“Maybe it’s you, not them,” Bronx said.

“Nah. I’m in the same boat as my brother. Whoever said a good woman was hard to find was speaking nothing but facts,” Adan agreed with his brother.

“Maybe it’s both of y’all,” Bronx reiterated.

I laughed at how matter-of-fact Bronx was, but he wasn’t wrong. If what they shared during shop talk was true, it was a miracle some woman hadn’t bashed the windows out of their cars.

“Based on some of our conversations, y’all got some shit to unpack. My therapist?—”

“Hell nah.” Zayn interrupted Dakari. “I ain’t had no therapist in all these years. Why start now?”

“Hopefully, you live a full and prosperous life and are willing to evolve as you get older. You’d be surprised the shit you’re holding onto, especially when it comes to relationships,” Dakari told them. “Ask Bronx.”

Bronx frowned at the stray he’d just caught. “Why you gotta drag me into this?”

“Because I need to remind your ass how you almost lost Yaz, and if you let it happen again, I’m on your ass.”

“Whatever, nigga. Why don’t we get back to the original question? When are you proposing?” Bronx swiftly changed the subject, taking the focus off him.

“I’m not sure, but soon. Y’all don’t say shit to Raine. Her and Mel can’t keep shit from each other.”

“Your secret is safe with us,” Shyne said while Adan and Zayn agreed.

I knew I wanted to marry Melodie before I left Chicago. Our connection was delayed, but it wouldn’t be denied.

We talked for a few more minutes before everyone went their separate ways. On the way home, I sent Melodie a text to let her know I would be there soon, before calling my Aunt Pat. I hadn’t talked to her in a while because she traveled more than anyone I knew. She was the only mother figure Raine and I had growing up because our mother cared more about drugs than she did us for most of our lives. Although we were grown, she still played that role.

“Hey, Nephew. How are you?” Aunt Pat answered.

“I’m good. How you been? It’s been a minute since we talked.”

“It has. Me and Newman just got back from a two-week vacation in Negril.”

“I figured you’d been out in the streets since you hadn’t stopped by the spa in a minute. How was your trip?”

“Amazing as always. I can’t wait until the next one. What’s going on, Nephew? I feel like you called to do more than check on me.”

“You know me well, Auntie. I want to marry Melodie.”

“You want to marryMel? What happened to the woman you were dating? What’s her name? Tonya?”

I chuckled because she never could get her name right. “Tia.”

I went on to tell her how Melodie and I finally got our shit together. She had a lot to say about us having only one life and wasting time with other people when we could’ve already been building with each other.

“I get it now, Auntie, and we won’t waste any more time.”

“That’s good to hear, because time waits for no one.”

“I’m well aware.”

“So, speaking of time, . . . have you talked to your father?”

I groaned inwardly because her brother was a sore subject for me. He’d been in Stateville Correctional Center, located right outside of Joliet, IL, for almost twenty years. Joliet was a far western suburb of Chicago, about fifty miles away.

I’d only visited him a handful of times when I lived in Chicago, and the odds of me making a special trip to see him now that I lived twelve hours away were slim to none. Raine and I rarely discussed him, so it was easy to forget he existed.

“Not in a while, . . . a long while. Why?”

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