July 4th – 7:42 P.M.
Selah’s Family BBQ – South Bronx, NY
The smell of charcoal, ribs, and fireworks mixed in the warm summer air like a familiar perfume. Kids ran barefoot across the patchy grass, sparklers fizzing in their little hands, while the grown folks circled folding chairs, red cups in hand, trading jokes louder than the music. The backyard was alive with laughter and loud music—everything a family BBQ should be.
Selah sat on a picnic blanket, her sandals kicked off and her curls pinned up with a gold clip. Her stomach was full, her cheeks slightly flushed from her third wine cooler, and for once, she felt… peace. A moment she hadn’t tasted in a while.
Dante sat not far from her, blending into the background, laughing at jokes that didn’t really land. He didn’t fit here, not really. Selah’s family tolerated him, but they didn’t embrace him. He could feel that energy in every fake smile and long glance exchanged when they thought he wasn’t looking.
Selah stood, brushing her thighs off. “I’ma take a walk around the block—see who’s still in the neighborhood.”
“You good?” her cousin Jada asked, peeling off her lashes dramatically. “You got that ‘bout-to-disappear-and-cry’ look.”
Selah laughed. “Nah, I’m just... reminiscing. I grew up on this block. I’m good, for real.”
Dante clocked her leaving but didn’t say a word. He figured she was avoiding him anyway, especially after how awkward things had been since the therapy talk.
As she wandered off, Royce, her uncle, sat down across from Dante at the domino table, slamming down the bones like a warning shot.
“Let’s switch it up,” Royce said, motioning toward the spades table. “You any good?”
Dante smirked. “Man, I stay winnin’. Let’s run it.”
Ten minutes later, Royce had run Dante for every chip and dollar on the table, all while sipping dark liquor and smiling like he was in church. Royce wasn’t new to this. He had that seasoned, alpha energy—quiet but commanding. The type of man who’d been through war and carried the scars behind designer shades and sharp-lined waves.
“You really thought you had somethin', huh?” Royce said, tossing down the final book. “That’s game. Run me my money, youngin’.”
Dante rolled his eyes and stood abruptly, knocking over a folding chair. “Man, you cheated.”
Royce leaned back slowly, the corners of his mouth curling up like smoke from a cigar. “Nah, you just trash at spades. That’s it.”
“Fuck you.”
The entire backyard shifted in energy. Conversations halted, eyes locked onto the tension unraveling like thread.
Royce’s eyes turned sharp. “Slow your fuckin’ roll, little boy. You forget I only tolerate your slimy ass ‘cause Selah asked me to.”
“Royce…” Genie’s voice cut in softly as she eased onto his lap, her arms wrapping around him. “Not here, baby. He not worth it.”
Royce didn’t blink. “Say one more disrespectful thing and you won’t leave here with all your teeth.”
Dante swallowed hard. He’d heard stories—whispers in the streets about Royce back in the day. About the bodies that disappeared and the men who walked funny after crossing him. That aura didn’t fade with age—it matured like wine. Royce was still a problem.
Reluctantly, Dante backed off and walked toward the front, his jaw tight with frustration. He spotted Selah returning, her face calm, too calm.
“We need to go. Now,” he snapped.
Selah narrowed her eyes. “What happened?”
“Yo uncle over there disrespecting me like I’m some random nigga off the street.”
“He don’t like disrespect. Maybe you gave it first?” she asked with a shrug.
Dante’s head snapped to her. “Wow. That’s the energy you on?”
She didn’t answer, just pulled out her keys and headed toward the car. She was too tired to explain what everyone else already saw. Dante had lost his place in the family a long time ago—he just refused to admit it.
They rode in silence for a few blocks before Dante couldn’t hold his tongue anymore.
“I don’t like how you actin’. Like I’m not the one who’s been there for you all these years.”
“Been where, Dante?” Selah asked, still staring out the window. “On my couch? In other women? Or in therapy trying to finesse your way back into my heart?”
He gripped the wheel harder. “That’s crazy. I been tryin’. I told you I was gon’ change.”
“But you still pop off like a teenager who ain’t got control of his emotions,” she shot back. “My uncle didn’t lie, and you mad because he held a mirror up to your bullshit.”
“So now you takin’ his side?”
“I’m takin’ the side of truth, Dante,” she said. “You been wanting loyalty from me that you don’t even show to yourself.”
He stayed quiet. Her words hit different now. She wasn’t yelling. She wasn’t crying. She was just... done.
“I’m not the same woman who sat up at night praying you’d come home,” Selah whispered. “I don’t wanna need saving anymore. Especially not from you.”
Dante stared at her for a beat. “You sayin’ you done?”
“I’m sayin’... I’m choosing me. For once.”
He parked in front of the apartment and stayed seated, both hands on the wheel like he was stuck.
Selah got out, closing the door softly behind her. She didn’t slam it. She didn’t look back. That scared Dante more than anything.
Inside, Selah kicked off her sandals and leaned against the kitchen counter. She stared at her reflection in the microwave—dark circles, chapped lips, eyes filled with disappointment.
She thought of her mom, Grace. Thought of the trauma she inherited from her parents' tragic ending. She thought about how Royce stepped up to raise her, but how nothing could ever replace that fractured foundation.
And now... she was just trying to build a new one. With shaky hands.
Her phone buzzed. A text from her therapist:
"Don’t forget: You’re breaking patterns, not hearts."
Selah exhaled. She wasn’t all the way healed. But for the first time, she wasn’t afraid of the process.
Dante, meanwhile, sat in the car gripping the steering wheel like it was the only thing holding him together.
He didn’t know if Selah was slipping through his fingers—or if she had finally just let go.
YOU ARE READING
If I Was Your Man
FanfictionWill Selah finally embrace the man who's always been willing to fight for her? Or will her past convince her that she doesn't deserve happiness at all?
