Hoops & Harmonies

44.

Angel stepped off the porch of Monica's house. The conversation had been short, much shorter than she hoped for. As the door closed behind her, Angel stood there for a moment, letting the weight of Monica's words settle in her chest. "I need time. I need space."

She had heard Monica loud and clear, but it didn't make it any easier. Angel couldn't just stand still and wait, not when her marriage was hanging by a thread. She wanted to fight for her family, but she knew pushing too hard right now might make things worse. So, she took a deep breath and pulled out her phone.

Scrolling through her contacts, Angel found a local flower shop. It wasn't much, but maybe it would show Monica that she cared, that she wasn't giving up. She quickly placed an order for a bouquet—roses, lilies, and sunflowers, Monica's favorites. The note was simple: "I'm sorry. I love you. I'll wait for you. – Angel"

As soon as she hung up, she looked at the house one more time, feeling the heaviness of the moment. Then, she turned and walked back to her car, heart sinking as she left the driveway.

Monica had closed the door, leaning her back against it for a moment, eyes shut. The words Angel had said echoed in her mind, but she couldn't shake the hurt. Trust didn't come easy for her, especially after something like this. She needed to clear her head, to figure out if she could even believe what Angel was saying.

She hadn't noticed how tightly she had been gripping the doorknob until Romelo came around the corner.

"Everything okay?" he asked cautiously.

Monica opened her eyes and gave a weak smile. "Yeah, baby. Just thinking."

He gave her a knowing look, but didn't press her for more. "Rodney's making breakfast. You want something?"

Monica shook her head. "Not hungry right now, but thanks."

Romelo nodded, heading back toward the kitchen. Monica watched him go, grateful that her boys were stepping up when she felt so drained. She moved back to the living room, sinking into the couch as she stared out the window.

She loved Angel. That wasn't the issue. But the lies? The secrecy? That was what hurt. She needed time to figure out what her heart wanted, and more importantly, what she could handle. She wasn't sure how long that would take, but she knew she couldn't rush this.

Angel sat on the plane back to Chicago, staring out the window as the clouds passed by. Her mind was racing, replaying the last few days over and over. She hated leaving Atlanta without Monica or the kids, but she knew she had to respect her wife's wishes.

When she had ordered the flowers earlier, it felt like a small gesture, but now she wondered if it would even matter. Would Monica care? Would she even want to hear from her? Angel bit her lip, trying to stay hopeful. She wanted to believe that things could be fixed, that the love they shared would be enough to get them through this.

But doubt lingered in the back of her mind.

As the plane landed in Chicago, Angel sighed deeply. She had never felt this lost before. Usually, she knew exactly what to do in any situation, but this was different. The thought of waiting, of giving Monica space, scared her. What if space made Monica decide she didn't want her anymore?

She pushed the thought aside as she grabbed her bag and headed home. The house felt empty without Monica and the kids. Angel walked in, dropping her bag by the door, her feet dragging as she made her way to the bedroom.

She threw herself on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, her phone resting on the pillow beside her. She had told Monica she would wait, and she meant it. But that didn't mean it was going to be easy. Angel didn't like sitting still, especially when it came to her family. But she had no choice.

Angel picked up her phone again, tempted to text or call Monica, but she stopped herself. No. She had to give her space, just like Monica had asked. She sighed, placing the phone back down, her mind filled with memories of the life they had built together, the good times, and the love they shared. She couldn't let this be the end.

Back in Atlanta, Monica was sitting at the dining room table when there was a knock on the door. She wasn't expecting anyone, so she was surprised to see a delivery man standing there with a bouquet of flowers.

"For Mrs. Monica," he said, handing the large bouquet over.

Monica took the flowers, immediately recognizing the combination of roses, lilies, and sunflowers—Angel's doing. She saw the note and opened it, reading the simple words: "I'm sorry. I love you. I'll wait for you. – Angel"

Her heart ached as she stared at the flowers. Angel knew her so well, knew exactly what to send to make her think. But flowers wouldn't fix what had been broken. Trust wasn't something you could mend with roses.

Still, Monica couldn't help but feel something soften in her heart. She placed the bouquet in a vase on the kitchen counter, her mind swirling with thoughts. The kids were in the other room, but they could sense the tension, and Monica hated that they had to see this.

She sat back down, staring at the flowers. Maybe Angel truly was sorry, and maybe she really would wait. But Monica knew this wasn't just about an apology. This was about rebuilding what had been damaged.

And that was going to take more than words.