Page 2 of Love Letters from a Libra (BLP Signs of Love #13)

Notes App - Just because you’re good at holding space for other people doesn’t mean you’re good at taking up space for yourself.

I stopped working momentarily as the timer counted the minutes until the Lakers’ tip-off.

My phone was propped against the couch leg as I gave it and the instruction manual in front of me my attention.

I was kneeling on my cousin Carlos’s hardwood floor, surrounded by cable ties and mounting brackets, with a screwdriver in hand.

I slid the soundbar into its place beneath the sixty-five-inch TV with the precision you would get from a professional, because if you did something, you did it right the first time.

At least that was what Aunt Nubi drilled into me when I was sixteen and fucked up her kitchen faucet, twice.

Now I measured and double-checked everything.

Smoke from the grill drifted into the house through the open window, mixing with the scent of collard greens and cornbread from the kitchen.

J. Scott’s voice also floated from the kitchen, where the women of the family had claimed their territory.

Her vocals weaved through conversations about whose kids were acting up and church drama.

It was the soundtrack of a family gathering, the blend of music, good food, and people talking shit while they loved on each other.

A blur of motion caught my peripheral vision. My eight-year-old nephew, Ricky, chased his little sister with a foam football while she shrieked with laughter. They dodged around me like I was part of the furniture.

“Aye, Professor, are you zoning out again?”

Carlos’s voice pulled me in. He was perched on the arm of a leather recliner, wearing a grin and a fresh fade. He tossed me a different screwdriver I needed for the wall mount. I caught it without looking up from the bracket.

“Man, shut up,” I joked, but my words had no heat.

Carlos was the only one who called me ‘Professor’ after I left the service and started a cybersecurity consulting business.

It was something about how I could read people’s digital footprints, see connections others missed, and predict their patterns.

Carlos thought it was some mystical shit.

The truth was, it was a matter of paying attention.

Carlos settled into his chair. “Nah, for real, though, you have the same look you had in high school when you were trying to figure out how to ask Kiesha Baxter to the prom.”

The memory made me smile. Kiesha Baxter, with her braids and smile that could stop traffic.

His comment hit closer to home than he knew, because suddenly, I was thinking about Zanaa.

Zanaa Scales, thirty-three, Libra Sun, ran a successful blog.

The way she studied my face when I quoted her chart made me feel like she was trying to solve a puzzle she didn’t know she was working on.

“Jules, did you ever hit up that girl I told you about from yoga class?” Tonya, Carlos’s wife, yelled from the kitchen, interrupting my thoughts.

I paused. The final screw was halfway threaded. Tonya had been trying to set me up with different women for months.

“Still thinking about it!” I said, which technically wasn’t a lie. I was thinking about how to decline without hurting Tonya’s feelings or triggering another round of questions about my dating life.

Carlos gave me a look. “Bro, she’s fine as hell. What is there to think about?”

“I want to ensure it’s the right fit and that we’re aligned.” I tightened the last screw.

Carlos chuckled. “Aligned? That’s what I’m talking about. You overthink, my guy. Sometimes you have to feel your way through.”

The soundbar turned on, and I tested the connection by bumping up the volume on the game. The routing was clean, the cables were hidden, there was no lag, and the audio quality was perfect.

Ricky ran back into the living room with the foam football, while his sister, London, giggled from behind the couch. The sound of family filled the space around us, and I allowed myself to exist in it by fixing things and showing up for Sunday dinner.

Outside, the steps were warm from the afternoon sun, and I settled into my usual spot with my phone. I scrolled past posts until I found Zanaa’s blog. “Uncle Jules!”

I looked up from my phone to see London bouncing down the porch steps, her hair neatly cornrowed with pink beads that clicked when she moved. She was six with her father’s chin and her mother’s eyes, but she grinned like me.

I offered a fist bump. “What’s good, baby girl?” I asked.

“Mama said you fixed the TV real good. Can you fix my tablet too? It makes weird noises when I play my games.”

“It probably just needs an update. Ask your mama to bring it to me before I leave, and I’ll look at it.”

London nodded and then raced toward the swing set, where Ricky was performing an acrobatic move that was going to end with someone crying. Kids had no fear. I envied that.

Uncle Jerome manned the grill, turning the ribs with precision, while the aunties arranged the covered dishes on the tables. I looked up to see Carlos approaching with two beers. The brown bottles were covered with condensation. He handed me one and then took a long pull from his beer.

Carlos settled on the step next to me, and we sat in silence, watching Ricky achieve the death-defying trick he’d attempted on the swing while London cheered him on like he’d just won the Olympics.

My phone buzzed, but I ignored it. Right now, I was right where I needed to be, surrounded by family and drinking a cold beer.

Carlos and I joked around a bit longer before we sat down to eat with the family. Conversation flowed, and the food was delicious as always.

After dinner, Uncle Jerome loaded his truck with leftover ribs wrapped in foil, telling Aunt Nubi to grab some potato salad as well. I headed into the kitchen, stacking plates, scraping remnants into the trash, and running the dishwasher.

Aunt Nubi joined me at the sink. “I’m glad I get to enjoy my husband now that you and Amir are grown. Y’all don’t need me hovering anymore. You’ve always been the glue, baby. Don’t forget to have joy too. Let someone hold you for a change.”

Tonya must have told Aunt Nubi about trying to set me up. “I’m glad you’re happy, Auntie. You deserve it. I have my eye on someone, but you know these things take time.” I smiled.

Aunt Nubi crossed her fingers on both hands and held them up, squealing. “Let me get out of here,” she said, kissing me on the cheek before picking up the container of potato salad she’d fixed.

“Love you. Be safe,” I added.

“Love you too,” she replied.

The cleanup felt good after hours of controlled socializing. Not that I didn’t love being around family, but it required a different kind of energy.

Carlos joined me in the kitchen, dumping an armload of tongs and serving spoons into the sink.

“You good?” he asked, handing me a plate that still had BBQ sauce on it.

“Yeah, why?”

“You’ve been quiet today. I mean more than usual. What’s on your mind?”

I considered deflecting his question but knew if anyone would understand, it would be him.

“You ever meet someone and feel like . . . like you already belong to them?”

Carlos stopped moving. “What do you mean, belong to them?”

“I feel like I’ve been pulled toward a woman I’ve never formally met.”

“That’s some deep shit, cuz, but I hear you. Like when I met Tonya, I knew. Not love at first sight or that Hollywood bullshit, but like my soul remembered her from somewhere.”

Relief flooded me because that was exactly how I felt. Like finding something I hadn’t known I’d lost. “Yeah, exactly like that.”

I dried my hands on the dish towel hanging by the sink and made my rounds to say goodbye. I kissed London on the cheek and promised to fix her tablet next weekend.

“Drive safe,” Tonya said as I entered the living room.

“I will,” I replied.

As I pulled away from Carlos’s house in my car, I thought about the universe not making mistakes. Zanaa wrote about perfect timing in her blog, and I was about to show her what that looked like.