Page 13 of You Deserve Good Things

A Man with a Plan

I had never been the type to chase no woman.

Never had to. My presence alone had always been enough—tall, chocolate, and dipped in divine timing.

But Shaniya? She was the one exception to every rule I ever lived by.

The one girl I never got over, the one woman I would spin the world backwards for, just to have another chance.

The love of my damn life, in brains and beauty, sitting across from me like she hadn’t just resurrected every dead part of me by walking back into my orbit.

She had this soft ass glow about her, even when she looked like she was tryna fold herself into the corner of the café.

Her hands wrapped around her cup like it was keeping her from falling apart.

Her nails were fresh, lilac with little gold accents, the kind of detail only a woman who still gave a damn about herself would rock.

But her eyes? They told a whole different story.

Still those same rich mocha brown windows I used to lose sleep over, but now?

They were heavier. Like they had seen some shit.

Like they were carrying grief in the corners and guilt in the shadows.

I leaned back in my chair, just watching her.

Soaking her in like she was the last drop of water on a hot-ass Houston day.

The type of beauty that wasn’t loud, but it demanded attention anyway.

Her hair was longer now, pulled back in a soft bun with some curls hanging out like they didn’t follow no rules either.

That was her all day—sweet, stubborn, and still fine as hell without even trying.

“How long have you been in Houston, baby?” I asked, keeping my tone low and steady, like I didn’t want to spook her.

She glanced up from her cup, biting the inside of her cheek before answering.

“Four years,” she said softly. “Since . . .”

She trailed off, but I already knew what she didn’t say.

I nodded. “Since you left me.”

Her whole body stilled. Her grip on the cup tightened like it was the only thing keeping her grounded.

“Jacory,” she started, her voice barely a whisper.

“Nah.” I shook my head and leaned forward, my elbows pressing into the table. “We gon’ talk about it, Yaya. I told you, ain’t no more running, baby. Not from me.”

She exhaled, long and heavy, like the truth weighed more than her chest could hold.

“I ain’t mean to hurt you,” she whispered.

My jaw flexed hard. “You ain’t mean to, but you did. It’s not even that you left. You couldn’t control that shit at all. It’s the fact that you cut me out your entire life when you did. No contact. Straight silence.”

And it was like I could feel the memory of that pain crawl back up from my gut. That night. That silence. That goodbye I never got. It still haunted me like unfinished business.

She looked at me then, really looked at me, like she was tryna measure just how much damage she’d done. But she didn’t even know the half of it.

I ran a hand down my face, steadying my voice. “Four years, Yaya. Four years of wondering if you ever thought about me. If you missed me like I missed you. If you still had love for me buried underneath all that pain you’ve been carrying.”

She closed her eyes, her lashes trembling. “Every damn day.”

That confession hit me harder than a bullet to the chest. It knocked the wind outta me and kissed my soul at the same time.

I reached across the table, my hand sliding over hers. She flinched at first, like touch was foreign to her now, like love was a language she forgot how to speak. But after a moment, she let me hold her. And that was all the answer I needed.

“You think I came all this way to let you slip away again?” I asked, my voice dropping low, rough around the edges, filled with every ounce of the love I had left in me.

Her breath hitched.

“You don’t know me anymore, Jacory,” she whispered.

“Nah, baby,” I said, tilting my head as I studied her.

“I know you better than anybody. I know the way your voice gets real soft when you’re scared, how you tuck your hair behind your ear when you’re tryna stay strong, how you laugh with your whole body when you finally let yourself feel joy.

I know the way you shut down when you feel like you gotta protect everybody but yourself. ”

She looked down again.

“You’re still scared,” I said gently. “Still afraid to lose me like you lost Silas.”

Her body tensed. Her whole aura dimmed like I’d reached too deep, pulled at a wound that never healed right.

But I didn’t flinch. I squeezed her hand tighter. “I get it. But, baby, you don’t have to carry that fear alone. I ain’t him. I’m still here. I’m still breathing. And I’m not going anywhere.”

She shook her head slowly. “You can’t promise that.”

“I can,” I said firmly, locking my eyes with hers. “I can promise I will fight every damn day to stay. I will love you through every breakdown, every tear, every wall you try to build up between us. I will climb that shit barefoot if I have to.”

She blinked fast, tears threatening to fall. But she was stubborn as hell—wouldn’t let them fall in front of me.

“I waited too long for this,” I added. “I’m ready when you are. Been ready. But I need to know if you are ready to stop being scared and start being loved the way you deserve.”

Silence wrapped around us again, thick and heavy like summer heat.

She pulled her hand away gently, her fingers trembling. “I need time.”

I nodded, standing up slowly, not in anger but in understanding.

“Take all the time you need,” I said. “Just know . . . I ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

I leaned down, close enough to smell the soft vanilla she always wore, and whispered in her ear, “You’ve always been mine, Yaya. That ain’t ever changed.”

She sucked in a breath, eyes wide, heart beating wild in her chest like it wanted to leap out and follow me.

And I let her sit there with that. Because for the first time in four years, she was gon’ have to come to me. On her own time. With her whole heart. And when she did? I’d be ready.

Because I wasn’t just a man in love; I was a man with a plan.