Then I glance down at my watch. 8:25 PM. And right on cue, my phone buzzes in my pocket.
I slip my hand away from Ms. Lilly’s and reach for my phone. One new message. My heart does a slow roll in my chest when I see who it’s from.
Croix:I brought you dinner, love. Come eat with me and tell me I’ve been a good boy.
I smile, shaking my head.
Me:Let me say goodnight to Ms. Lilly and then I’ll head down. You in the cafeteria?
Croix:Yes, but I can be in your office in 5 minutes if you want? ;)
Me:You already know the answer to that. See you in a few.
“Is that your man checking in on you?” Ms. Lilly asks, nodding toward my phone.
I feel my cheeks warm. “Yeah. I mean….He’s not my man. Not really…not like that,” I say, the words slipping out more honestly than usual.
I’m normally guarded about the men I date. But there’s something about Ms. Lilly that makes it hard to lie. Or maybe I’m just tired of pretending.
“Not like that?” she repeats, raising a brow. “Then what is he? Whatisit like?”
I exhale, searching for the right words. “It’s complicated. He’s good to me. He’s good-looking, sweet, thoughtful...but sometimes I wonder if he’stheguy, you know?”
She gives me a look that says shedefinitelyknows.
Soccer star and heart-throb Croix London and I have been dating for just over six months. He’s ruggedly attractive. Sweet in that golden retriever, call-you-love kind of way. And even though our courtship has been less than conventional with a very slow burn, I’ve grown to love him.
Like a best friend.
Croix is easy. Predictable. The kind of man who brings me lunch every Wednesday, whether I’m working an early shift or a late one. He remembers the name of every hospital nemesis I’ve ranted about, and exactly how I like my pizza. He’s thoughtful. Consistent. Charming in that low-key kind of way that doesn’t blow you over but slowly works its way under your skin.
But if I’m being honest—painfullyhonest—he feels more like comfort than craving. Warm and familiar, not wild and consuming. Not the kind of love that flips your world upside down and leaves you breathless. But I spend so much time inside these hospital walls, it's easier to ignore the gnawing ache that keeps whispering, this should’ve ended a long time ago.
Ms. Lilly tilts her head, eyeing me the way only a woman with decades of wisdom can. “You know what we used to say back in my day?”
I shake my head.
“If it ain’t ahell yes,baby, it’s probably ano.”
I chuckle softly, even though her words land heavy. “It’s not that simple.”
“It never is. But it also doesn’t have to be hard,” she says, patting my hand. “A good man might make you feel at peace.But the right man makes you sure. Sometimes they’re the same, sometimes they’re not. But the one who’s meant for you won’t have you questioning anything.”
I stare down at my hands, her words settling in my chest like stones sinking slowly to the bottom of a river. Undeniable.
“You already know,” she adds softly. “You just don’t want to say it out loud yet.”
I lean in, kiss her cheek, and whisper goodnight. Then I walk out of her room and down the quiet hallway, heading toward the man who has never quite been my boyfriend.
Chapter Two
Corner-Kicks, Collard Greens + Getting “Serious-Serious”
Aspen
Six months ago.
I’m not one of those women who rushes to share every detail of my life online. I’ve never felt the urge to update my Facebook relationship status the second I start dating someone new, and I take no pleasure in broadcasting my daily meals to people who only pretend to know me. I’ve always been a firm believer in the Black family tradition of keeping my business to myself. So the fact that Croix and I are practically a “secret” couple wouldn't surprise anyone who actually knows me. Fortunately, Croix is just as private as I am.
