Before I Let Go, page 37
“We eat here,” she says, pointing to where I sit and he’s pressed to me. “Not anymore. That counter is officially suspect.”
I breathe out a laugh and Josiah’s chuckle vibrates through me at the places where we touch.
“What’s going on?” Kassim asks from just behind his sister. His wide eyes flick from us to Josiah’s suitcase standing by the door.
“It’s a lot to explain,” I say. “And we’ll talk through everything.”
Josiah clasps our hands together on the counter for our children to see.
“But long story short,” he says, his openly loving gaze set on me, setting me on fire, “I’m coming home.”
Epilogue
Yasmen
“Why are you cast down, O my soul…Hope.”
—Psalm 42:5
New Year’s Eve is always one of my favorite nights of the year, though one of the busiest. I made the midnight toast, as I usually do, ringing in a new year at the Grits celebratory bash. Bottles popping. Champagne flowing. The place, pulsing with possibility and jubilation an hour ago, is starting to clear out. By one o’clock, everyone should be gone. The DJ was great, a new guy I found by chance. He played “Feels Good,” and Hendrix did lose her mind the way she does every time that song comes on. She’s still slightly sweaty and breathless when she and Soledad find me on the roof wishing the diners Happy New Year and thanking them for coming.
“Great party,” Hendrix says, coiling her waist-skimming braids up into a messy bun. “Once again.”
“Thank you,” I say.
“How are things going in Charlotte?” Soledad asks. “With their first New Year’s Eve bash?”
“Great,” I reply with a smile. “Our new manager there, Charles, sent us some pics. Everyone looked like they were having a ball. The place looks fantastic. Thanks again for your help decorating it, Sol.”
“It was nothing,” she says.
“I’ll have to check it out next time I’m visiting Mama in Charlotte,” Hendrix says.
“Yeah, you can kind of keep an eye on it for me.” I smile, grabbing an unopened bottle of champagne from a nearby table. “One last drink to toast another year? I wasn’t with you tricks when the New Year rang in, so shall we?”
“Oh, we shall.” Soledad takes a seat at the table.
“Lemme get us some glasses,” I say as Hendrix sits too.
I walk over to the bartender on this level, who’s shutting down for the night, and snag three shot glasses from the bar since there’s probably not one clean flute in the building.
“Pour it up!” I hold the glasses triumphantly, returning to the table to take my seat. “These are the best I could do.”
“That’s about as much as I can take anyway.” Hendrix laughs. “I’m lushed. You hear me?”
“You really went for it tonight,” Soledad agrees with a smile. “If you weren’t drinking, you were dancing.”
“Lots to celebrate.” Hendrix winks. “It’s been a very good year, and this one will be even better.”
“Oh, that’s right. You signed that new client,” I say. “Lucrative, huh?”
“Yeah.” Hendrix pours champagne into the three shot glasses. “If she keeps pulling in seven-figure deals, me and that commission will get along just fine.”
“Edwards’s firm has had one of the best years too,” Soledad says, her smile a little stiff. “This new partner has been shaking things up, but Edward says he’s not sure about some of the changes.”
Hendrix and I share a quick glance, treading lightly by tacit agreement where Edward is concerned. As far as we know, he hasn’t been sleep talking about other women lately, but we don’t trust him as far as we could toss him.
“Oh, wow,” Hendrix murmurs. “How nice for Edward.”
“He’s home with the girls tonight?” I ask.
“Yes,” she says. “Well, not Lupe. She’s at that same sleepover Deja’s at.”
I pull my phone from the pocket of my skirt, smiling down at the screen. “Deja sent me like five text messages. I told her it’s not cool to text your mom from a slumber party, but she wanted me to see these braids she did for one of the girls.”
“We did the right thing letting them leave Harrington, right?” Soledad sighs. “I mean, we jumped through hoops, robbed Peter to pay Paul so we could get them in, and they walk away from it.”
“It’s their second year in public, and they’re both doing great. Deja’s definitely happier.” I shrug. “Each of our kids needs different things. Kassim is still thriving at Harrington.”
“And skipped a grade,” Hendrix interjects, fist-bumping me.
“Showing out too,” I say, proud Mama preening. “All As. Both of them are actually doing really well.”
“The whole family is in therapy,” Hendrix says wryly. “So y’all better be doing well.”
“Literally!” I laugh. “Deja wanted her own therapist because she didn’t want to be left out, and of course, we’re in family counseling.”
“It’s all still working, though?” Soledad asks, lifting her perfectly threaded brows delicately. “The arrangement?”
“Yes, but I kinda enjoy folks’ confusion when they realize Josiah lives with us and he and I are together…again, but still not married.”
“Keep doing you,” Hendrix says with a big grin. “You’re happier than I’ve ever seen you.”
“I’m happier than I’ve ever been.”
It’s true. Our life, our love, didn’t follow the path we thought it would, but that makes it no less true. I often think back to the day we met Ken and Merry, who said they didn’t believe in the institution of marriage, but they believed in each other forever.
The only thing holding us together is our love.
I still believe in marriage, and Josiah does, too. Our love is the only promise binding us, but whenever Josiah is ready to seal it again with vows, so am I. For now, we’ve taken time to grow, to heal, and as Ken and Merry said, to make a life together on our own terms.
I pick up my shot glass of champagne. “Are we gonna do this, or what?”
“We doing it,” Hendrix says.
With a smile as bright as the sequins on her dress, Soledad picks hers up. “Who’s got the toast?”
“I’ve already done one toast tonight,” I say. “You got it, Hen?”
“Ever ready.” She raises her glass. “Here’s to sex that cracks our backs.”
“Oh, Lord,” Soledad murmurs, lips twitching.
“Adventures that snatch our edges,” Hendrix continues, her smile melting into a rare, sweet curve. “And friends that stick like you.”
“You mean stick like glue?” I ask, chuckling.
“I said what I said,” Hendrix booms.
“To friends that stick like you,” we chorus, clinking glasses and knocking back our champagne.
“Well,” I say, slamming my shot glass to the table, “Kassim is at Jamal’s, so Josiah and I have a rare night with no kids. Later for you, bitches. I’m gonna find my man and get outta here while the getting is good.”
Soledad looks over my shoulder, quirking a smile. “Looks like he found you.”
I turn in my seat, and my heart skips that beat reserved specifically for this man, a rhythm that only he has ever inspired. Josiah crosses the roof to us. He’s the kind of handsome that grabs your attention, cloaked in the brand of sex appeal that holds it. His smile is weary, just a tilt to one side of his mouth, but his eyes are alert on me. I don’t have to wonder if he loves me. He tells me every day with his words and with that look fixed on me right now.
“Ladies,” Josiah says when he reaches our table. “What are we drinking to?”
He nods to the bottle of champagne and the incongruous trio of shot glasses.
“New Year shit.” I don’t even check my goofy grin up at him. I haven’t had enough champagne to be drunk, but the thought of a night in the house alone with him is intoxicating in itself.
He tugs me up, sits in my seat, and pulls me back down to his lap. I nuzzle into his neck, lost in the familiar scent of him, the warmth of his hard body, the affection in the hand stroking my thigh, sending tingles even through a thin layer of silk.
“Okay,” Hendrix says, standing. “I think that’s our cue to leave, Sol. They might start screwing on the table right here in front of us.”
“That’s probably a good idea.” I link my fingers with Josiah’s across my stomach and press my back to his chest. “Wouldn’t put it past us.”
The low rumble of Josiah’s chuckle vibrates along my spine; I was joking, but my belly somersaults at the unyielding bone and muscle beneath me. The way this man makes me feel, we may not make it home. Wouldn’t be the first time we made good use of the cellar.
“Guess I’ll live vicariously through you,” Soledad says, a touch of bitterness in her smile. I know it’s not directed toward us, but to her husband. Grasping her hand for a squeeze, I offer a sympathetic smile.
“Y’all still coming to my place tomorrow?” Hendrix asks, tucking the half-empty bottle of champagne under one arm. “I’m doing a New Year’s lunch with greens and black-eyed peas. Get our luck right for the New Year.”
“As long as lunch is not before noon,” Josiah says, “count us in.”
“Then I’ll see you at noon. Come on, Sol.”
“Night, lovebirds,” Sol says, her smile warm this time.
“Love you guys.” I give a little finger flurry wave and watch the two best friends I’ve ever had take the stairs down.
I’m so blessed they’re in my life. The absolute truth of that has me blinking back unexpected tears…again. I’m emotional tonight. I’d wonder if I might be pregnant if it weren’t for Josiah snipping that possibility away with a vasectomy a few months ago. It gave him peace of mind knowing we wouldn’t accidentally end up with a high-risk pregnancy, and it solidified a new direction for our family.
“Did you see Brock and Clint tonight?” I ask, shifting a little on his lap to look into his eyes.
“I did. I told them we’re starting the adoption classes next week. They’re hyped for it.”
We’re adding to our family, and it feels like just one more step in the right direction for us. Kassim and Deja are happy and secure. We communicate with them openly about our relationship and our commitment to them and to each other. We leased Byrd’s house out a few months ago, to a sweet family, and that felt like cutting one last thread to the painful time we spent apart. We’re stronger than we’ve ever been before. Tender wrapped in tungsten. The most vulnerable parts of me sheltered by rock devotion.
I turn my head to look at him, bringing our lips close enough to kiss…so we do. How a man you’ve kissed a million times still has the power to make you weak in the knees, I don’t know, but clinging to him under a cathedral sky with an audience of stars, I know I’ll never take it for granted. We’ve been through too much, and what burns between us shines brighter and hotter for having been tried.
He slows the kiss, tightening his hand at my hip, pulling me flush to his chest so our hearts pound in tandem. Music drifts up from downstairs, and when I place the song, crooned by Al Green, it seizes me by the soul.
“Let’s Stay Together.”
“I thought the DJ was gone,” I say against his lips, “but they’re playing our song. Did you arrange that, by chance?”
“The owner put in a good word for me,” he says, smiling and standing, extending his hand. “Dance?”
I nod, stepping close to him, slipping my arms up over his shoulders and laying my head on his chest. His hands wander past my waist and hips to squeeze my butt.
“When we get home,” he says, “this ass is mine.”
“This ass,” I tell him, pulling the necklace with the wheel charm and my old wedding ring free of my dress, “is always yours, Mr. Wade.”
Looking down at me, his eyes glow with love. “That’s good to know, Mrs. Wade.”
We don’t speak for a few moments, but sway, letting the song douse us in memory. Two naive kids in a shitty apartment on a cold night, clinging to each other, thinking we knew what true love looked like. We had no idea how hard it could be to live out these lyrics, to stay together. Hearing this song used to remind me of my biggest failure, but now it is the anthem of my greatest triumph. Not that I lost this love, but that I believed in it so much, I ran back into the fire to save it. That when all hope was lost, I didn’t stop looking until I found it again. Didn’t stop looking until I found myself again. And this man, this moment—is my reward.
Let’s stay together.
Words of deep love, acceptance, renewal. It’s a pledge to stand as one when the world would divide us. When we would hurt each other. It’s fidelity and longing refined over a lifetime. I’m sure the love we have is so powerful, it could endure for a dozen lifetimes, but it has been concentrated and then distilled into just this one. We found each other after being separated before. We could do it again and again until time ended, but in this life, I’ll never let go of him.
“I have something for you,” he whispers in my ear, his warm breath misting my earlobe and sending a shiver down my spine. “In my left coat pocket.”
“Another pear?” I grin up at him.
“Look and see.”
I slide my hand into the left pocket, my fingers brushing the silk lining, seeking. And then I feel it and freeze into a pillar of shock. He stares at me, all traces of laughter gone, replaced by something fiery and tender. Trembling, I pull the ring out and hold it up between us. It’s a large square-cut diamond on a thick platinum band. I gasp, my breaths halting and starting.
“There’s an inscription.” He guides the tip of my finger inside the band. I trace the letters before flipping it to read the one word.
“Wheel.”
“There’s no beginning and no end.” He takes the ring and holds it up between us. “It’s our own eternity.”
The tears roll unheeded down my cheeks, and as soon as he gently wipes them away, they’re replaced by fresh ones. This moment is so enormous, so overwhelming, but it doesn’t stand alone. It’s not just the strength of our full circle, but it’s all the times we were weak, and got back up. It’s every hurt, every second we spent apart, only to reunite. Our union wasn’t just made by the good. The pain and the grief and the sorrows forged us together as much as the joys.
“Will you marry me?” he breathes at my ear. “Again?”
Unable to speak, I bite my lip to hold back sobs and shouts of joy. He slips the ring onto my finger and it’s a perfect fit.
A smile widens his beautifully sculpted mouth. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Have more children with you. Fight with you. Make up with you. Wake up beside you every day.”
He rests his forehead against mine.
“I was meant for you and you were meant for me, and even when we got in our own way, even when we screwed up—because we both did, baby—even then my soul knew, my heart knew, it was wrong being away from you. I don’t ever want to ache like that again. People don’t often get second chances like this, Yas.”
“There’s a part of me that keeps thinking I don’t deserve it,” I confess.
“Did we deserve all the shit that happened to us? The things and the people we lost? I’ve learned that life isn’t about taking what you deserve, it’s about getting all you can while you can because it’s short. Because it’s fickle. Because it takes when we least expect it. Now everything I’ve lost makes me cherish the things I have, instead of always being afraid I’ll lose them.”
He kisses the tears on my cheeks.
“Most of all you.”
When we lose things, we don’t always get them back. Of Byrd, all I have left is a stack of recipes and memories I pray will never fade. Of Henry, a wall of wishes that will never come to fruition and a small scar decorating my skin in honor, reminding me he was, if only for the briefest lifetime, a part of me and so completely mine.
I press my hand over Josiah’s heart, and it beats a fervent rhythm of reunion. I look into his eyes and lose myself in the acceptance, the trust I thought we’d never recover.
“Don’t leave me hanging, Yas.” He brushes his thumb across my lips. “You haven’t actually answered the question. Will you marry me…again?”
There are a thousand things I could say to capture how I’m feeling, to tell him what his devotion means to me. That instead of escaping into the dark, I’ll find him in it, and we’ll guide each other to the light. I touch the necklace at my throat, testing the familiar shape of the wheel, the precious weight of my first wedding ring. I tossed this into a well of wishes, certain that what I really wanted, the one I truly wished for, I would never have again. There are a million words I could utter to assure him he never has to worry about me wavering, but with an uncontainable joy and a teary smile, I choose one.
“Yes.”
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Discussion Questions
Please note that the following discussion questions contain some spoilers. We recommend not reading ahead if you want to be surprised.
In the prologue, we see Josiah and Yasmen young and in love. Later in the book, we get a very different view of their marriage soon after Byrd and Henry have died. And then we see several years post-divorce. Compare and contrast their relationship dynamics in each stage. Who were they then versus who they are now?
Details of the two catastrophic losses and Yasmen’s subsequent depression unfold over the course of the first few chapters. What emotions did you feel as it became clearer what had happened and how Yasmen had responded?
What were your first impressions of Yasmen’s two closest friends, Soledad and Hendrix? How did they help with Yasmen’s recovery? How are the women alike, and in what ways are they different?
