Can't Get Enough (Skyland, #3)(137)

“It’ll make you feel better about her deferring college,” I correct, aiming a knowing look at him.

“Exactly!” Tamia high-fives me.

“Did I hear the words ‘deferring college’?” Soledad winces as she and Yasmen walk up beside us. “Because I fear that’s a discussion Lupe will want to have soon.”

“I’m here for you,” Tamia says. “And congrats on the new show. Great first episode. Who knew baking soda was good for all that?”

“Sol knew,” Yasmen says. “And you may have to have that talk with Deja, too.”

“Deja gon’ be out-earning all y’all.” I chuckle at the long-suffering look on both my friends’ faces. “You shouldn’t have raised such amazing girls if you didn’t want to deal with them being… well… amazing.”

“I think you have to take some of the responsibility for that.” Yasmen links her elbows with mine and Soledad’s. “Since they get a lot of that inspiration from their Aunt Hen.”

“Oh, for sure, Aunt Hen has to take some of the blame for our girls being badasses,” Soledad says, leaning over to kiss my cheek. “And at least a little bit for me being a badass.”

For some reason, them saying that—that I had even the smallest part in helping to influence their daughters, some of the most confident, compassionate and smart young women I know—prickles tears behind my eyes. People often hold the uncertain future at the end of our lives over the heads of women who don’t want children.

Who’ll take care of you when you’re old? Aren’t you afraid of dying alone?

Do I go through 95 percent of my life living with a decision I regret so the last 5 percent of my life I’m guaranteed a caretaker?

I’ve poured my love and care into a circle of people who surround me now and will encircle me then. I’ve watched my mother survive nearly everyone she loved throughout her life until now there are so few left. When I couldn’t be there, her sister was. Her church was. Her neighbors were because she’d extended herself all her life, not just to me, her child, but to everyone around her, and they wanted to extend themselves to her.

That’s community.

Yes, there is power in making your own way and joy in sharing it. Sharing it with your family. Sharing it with your friends.

And—if you find the blessing of it—with the love of your life.

“You ready?” Maverick asks, shoving his hands into his pockets and eyeing the large gate that guards the Sky Park entrance.

“Yeah.” I kiss Soledad’s and Yasmen’s cheeks. “Great job organizing everything tonight, Yas. And, Sol, you supernova. That first episode is fantastic. Tomorrow, the red carpet!”

We squeal and squeeze and laugh. All the while, Maverick is tugging me away and toward the park’s exit by inches.

“Ready to go, were you?” I laugh once we settle into the back seat of the car.

“I’m sorry.” He loops our fingers together. “I thought you’d want to check on your mother before it gets too late considering we have to leave so early in the morning.”

“No, you’re right. I just had to tear myself away because it was such a great night.”

He pulls the car into the drive of the contemporary house in the heart of Skyland I bought for Mama, Aunt Geneva, She-she, and me. It’s more space than we need, but I love the extra room so we aren’t always on top of each other. There are also enough bedrooms that the nurse who comes in a few times a week has her own.

“Where’s She-she?” Maverick asks, glancing around the empty foyer.

“Probably upstairs asleep at the foot of my bed. Prissy self.”

He chuckles and slips his arms around my waist. “I don’t mind having you to myself for a few minutes without her yapping at our heels and demanding all your attention.”

“Jealous?” I whisper, linking my arms behind his neck.

“Always.” He bends and drops a kiss on my lips. “Let’s go out back.”

He walks us to the kitchen and toward the door leading to Mama’s garden.

“You want to go out here?” I frown, but don’t stop his progress. “At midnight?”

“I want to see how all our hard work in the garden is paying off.”

He slants a grin over one shoulder, and I melt. Not just under the heat of his smile, but from the warmth of memory. Him out back helping my mother plant her “prize” ranunculus in the backyard where I grew up and then again here when Mama moved to Skyland. The transition hasn’t been perfect or without its setbacks, but Mama has adjusted surprisingly well. I know this garden Maverick helped her plant gets some of the credit for that.

I may have questioned the rationale of coming out here this late, but I can’t deny this place’s serenity. In the blossoms that are a legacy of my grandmother, whose flowers won my mother’s heart. Of the star-studded sky and the gentle breeze whispering through the trees surrounding the garden. All the tension of the night, the excitement and anticipation, dissolves.

We sit on the bench that Maverick had delivered the day we moved into the house. It bears my parents’ initials. A testament to their love. Some days I look through the back window and see Mama lost in her own thoughts; in the labyrinth of her own mind, just tracing their initials with her fingers.