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Releasing my hand, she cupped my face, pulling it down and kissing my said empty eye socket. Yeah, we’d been together so long I often forewent my prosthesis or patch around her now.
“I can’t help crying, Vann. This is more than I imagined having after my divorce.”
“This is love, baby. This is what love can do.”
She nodded, smiling through her tears. When she turned her attention back to our land, I dropped onto one knee, the sudden action making her spin back around to look at me. Her mouth dropped open.
Holding up the ring I’d had hidden in my pants pocket, I asked, “Will you marry me, Brooklyn Skye?”
She fell to her knees in front of me, pulling my face to hers in a tear-drenched kiss, and once our lips parted, she gave me a beautiful, hushed, “Yes.”
EPILOGUE
VANN
ONE YEAR LATER…
The wedding was everything, and this backyard reception wasn’t too shabby, either. It was an evening affair with fairy lights strung on trellises, white round tables and matching chairs dotting the vast lawn. Finely dressed guests lined up at the buffet table while others danced to the live band currently performing a fire rendition of Kool and the Gang’sTake My Heart (You Can Have It).
I had a bird’s eye view of the action from my seat at our table, and I couldn’t erase the smile on my face as I spotted Brooklyn and my boss lady laughing and dancing on the tiny portable dance floor along with Nadia, Sharla, and the bride—Nadia’s mother, Ms. Lovely. I was so fucking happy with my life in that moment.
A firm hand landed on my shoulder, making me lift my head to see who it was.
“Young buck! You mind if I sit here with you? My table way over yonder and my feets is hurting.”
I smiled at the older man in the excruciatingly tight suit who was, at that moment, balancing three plates in one hand. “Naw, I don’t mind at all. Have a seat.”
The man I recognized as Nadia’s father sat directly in front of me, sitting his plates on the table. Each one of them was full of meat—-nothing but meat.
Damn.
“Now, you Shirley’s brother, ain’t you?”
I frowned. “Who?”
“Shirley, one of my Nod-ja’s friends. You know, she married to that big ass Jojo!”
“Ohhhh, you mean, Sharla? Yeah, that’s my sister.”
“Uh-huh,” he said as he took a bite out of a braised chicken leg. “Shit, this is good! Surprised Lovely and that Grady got meat at this party since they vaygens and shit.”
“Uh…”
“Now, your name is what? Truck?”
“No, sir. It’s Vann.”
“Shit, I knew it was something you can drive. Well, I’m Lee Chester.”
“Yes, sir…I remember. We met earlier.”
“Mm-hmm, you know who you remind me of? This negro from back home we used to call Funky Tony. He was light skinned like you and he never lost a fight ‘cause his ass would come to the fight stankin’. A nigga who’ll come to a fight stankin’ ain’t got nothing to lose.”
What?
And was he calling me stankin’?
“Vann!” a panicked voice yelled, pulling my attention from my table mate. I visually searched until I found her—Brooklyn. Hopping up from the table without a word to Lee Chester, I ran to where she stood just off the dance floor clutching her swollen belly.
