𝐇𝐞𝐫 𝐑𝐞𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧, 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐑𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐭

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍

Friday was here, and that meant one thing—dinner at Chris' place. Our weekly Friday night dinners had become a small tradition. A part of me wasn't sure how it would go at first— Chris and I hadn't exactly been on the best terms when we had agreed to do this for the boys —but to my surprise, it worked out better than I could have hoped. Noah and Na'Jae loved spending time with their dad, and I liked that we could be civil. We had our kids to think about, after all.

I packed the boys' bags, gathering their favorite toys and pajamas, and I helped them get ready. Noah had his toy car in one hand, while Na'Jae held onto his stuffed bear, both of them buzzing with excitement as I guided them toward the car. The drive to Chris' penthouse wasn't long, just a quick ride across the city, but every minute felt stretched thin. My mind wandered, as it often did during these drives, today I was thinking mostly about Daniel. I looked at the promise ring that he had given me on Monday, and I smiled. Lifes feels so surreal right now.

When we arrived, I knocked on the door, Noah and Na'Jae clutching my legs. The penthouse door swung open, but it wasn't Chris standing there. Instead, a tall figure, with dark skin and a broad smile, greeted us.

"Skeete?" I said, a bit surprised.

"That's right!" Skeete beamed, pulling the door open wider. "Welcome, welcome! Come on in. Chris ran out to the grocery store, but he'll be back in a few. He left me here to hold down the fort." He grinned down at the boys, his smile wide and genuine.

Noah and Na'Jae, clinging shyly to my legs, glanced up at Skeete with big, curious eyes. They weren't used to new people.

"Who are you?" Na'Jae asked, his voice barely a whisper as he peered up at Skeete from behind my legs.

Skeete crouched down to their level, his tone playful but soft. "I'm your Uncle Skeete. Your daddy's best friend. I used to hang out with him when we were about your age. You two must be Noah and Na'Jae, right?"

The boys exchanged a skeptical glance but finally relented, walking up to him. After a moment of hesitation, they both lifted their small hands for a high five. Skeete chuckled and obliged, their hands slapping softly against his.

"Y'all got some serious strength," Skeete joked, rubbing his hand dramatically. "I'm gonna need ice for that."

I couldn't help but laugh a little at the way he connected with them so quickly. "Come on, boys," I said, nudging them gently, "Lleva tus cosas a tu habitación." (take your stuff to your room.) The twins nodded, each picking up their bags and waddling down the hall toward the guest room they used when they stayed with Chris.

Skeete straightened up and gave me one of those cocky smiles I remembered from when we were younger. "What, no hug for your boy?"

I playfully rolled my eyes but stepped forward and wrapped my arms around him in a brief hug. "You don't change, do you?"

Skeete laughed as he pulled away. "Nah, never. You look good, though," he said, his voice softening. "And your boys? Adorable. They got your smile."

"Thanks," I replied, a little bashfully. I set my purse down on the living room couch, my eyes scanning the familiar space. The penthouse was immaculate, as always. Chris was good at keeping things in order, but it still felt like something was missing— warmth. It's literally freezing in here.

Before I could dwell on it too long, the door opened again, and in walked Chris, arms full of grocery bags. His smile was wide, and there was an extra spark in his eyes, like he was carrying some secret he wasn't quite ready to share.

"Hey, everyone," Chris greeted, setting the bags down on the kitchen counter. He turned to the boys, who had come rushing out of their room the moment they heard him. "There are my little men! Ready for the big project today?"