Not about every detail.
Not about never messin’ up.
Just… about us.
About the fact that no matter how ugly it got sometimes, we had people around us who wasn’t gon’ let us drown.
April rested her head on my chest.
“You good?” she asked.
“Yeah,” I said, lettin’ my cheek rest on top of her hair. “I’m good.”
Truth was, I was better than that.
Tomorrow and all the days after, we’d still be scared sometimes.
But we was done lettin’ fear drive.
And as I held my soon-to-be wife in my arms, feelin’ the bass under our feet and the love in that room, I knew one thing for sure:
We was scared and ready.
And for me, that was enough.
Hangovers hit different when your life actually good.
I woke up feelin’ heavy and light at the same time. Head a little cloudy from all them drinks at the party, body pleasantly sore in ways that had nothin’ to do with alcohol.
The first thing I felt was warmth.
Roman’s chest pressed against my back, his arm slung low over my waist like he’d been holdin’ me there all night.
The second thing I felt was his breath on my neck…slow, but even.
Ain’t no club bass, no random noise, just the hum of the AC and the occasional car passin’ outside.
For a second, I just laid there and let myself feel it.
No “what if.”
No “how long this gon’ last.”
Just… here basking in my feelings.
Snippets from last night came back in flashes.
April laugh-cryin’ when Royce called her his wife in that toast like he ain’t already been practicin’ in private.
Fee sittin’ down with her feet up, Trend rubbin’ her ankle like the twins was in there payin’ rent.
Charlee smackin’ Truce in the back of the head when he told everybody, “My wife pregnant, y’all!” like they ain’t know.
And me.
On that dance floor.
In Roman’s arms.
