Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 115833 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115833 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
I nodded, combating tears.
“But let me be clear when I tell you that your resilience and your shine cannot be replaced,” she said. “No matter how you grew up, or if the tables had been turned, you would still be the Davina you are now, and I love that about you.” Her voice broke during the last sentence, and I tucked my hands between my thighs. “I’m so sorry it took me so long to pull myself together. I’m so sorry if my actions have damaged you in any way or made you feel like you don’t deserve to be cared about or loved. I love you from the depths of my heart, and you should know that I’m here now. I’m not going anywhere, and if it’s not too late for you, I want to keep being here for you, baby. You, your sister, and your brother are my world. Nothing will ever come before my babies again.”
At this point, Mama had become a blur. A part of me figured maybe I was being too emotional about this, but the rational part of me knew I had a lot to be emotional about.
I wasn’t sure what’d come over me. I thought I’d done all my crying at the damn lake house, but it turns out I had a lot more pent up inside me. So at my Mama’s dining table I cried, and didn’t realize I was crying until she curled her arms around me and held me close.
As she did, all I could think was that the last few months I’d spent with Lew were just like it had been when I was a child.
Inconsistent.
Lonely.
That feeling of abandonment, even though he had no control over his situation.
I’d been in complete survival mode, trying to take care of everything and make all the ends meet just so the people around me would be okay.
But what about me? What if I’m not okay?
That question tormented me in so many ways. I was not okay. Like I told Deke, I was in shambles, and I meant that in every sense of the word. My heart, my mind, my body—all of me was so bleak and broken.
And maybe that was why I ran from him. Maybe that was why I was so scared of what was budding between us. Because I didn’t want someone so perfect to see how fucked up I truly was.
It’d taken a while for me to fully commit to Lewis, when we first met. I didn’t feel like it was real or like my relationship with him was something I could keep. Even after we married, I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, just like it had with my dad, and it came stomping down when he was diagnosed with cancer.
To me, that was all the proof I needed to know I was better off alone. Why suffer if I didn’t have to? Hell, I’d suffered enough. I didn’t think I could share that side of me with another man again. I kept saying this, but it was true. Deke deserved better than me. Lewis deserved better than me.
Like a light bulb flashing above my head, a clear realization hit me, and my mind circled back to one of the last things my husband had said: “I love you, Vina Boo. But I know you, and I don’t want you shutting the world out when I’m gone.”
Lewis had seen how lonely I was after his diagnosis, how isolated I felt, how tired I was. He saw me move at lightning speed just to make sure he’d survive. He saw everything I couldn’t see. Now it made sense why he said those things the night he died. He was trying to save me from myself.
A door closed from a distance, and after hearing footsteps drift through the house, I picked my head up and spotted my sister through bleary eyes.
“Mama! Why did you make her cry?” Octavia exclaimed, frowning at Mama. “She just got here!”
Mama laughed, rubbing my back in soothing circles. “She’s just processing a few things. Right, Vina?”
I smiled up at my mom, and she returned a warm smile.
“Yeah.” I sniffed. “That’s right.”
FIFTY-SEVEN
DEKE
The Ravens lost the first official game of the season, and it was because of me.
Afterward, I had to sit behind a table with reporters in my face, telling them I’d messed up—that I had a lack of sleep or something—just to cover my own ass. My coaches were pissed, and my teammates hardly recognized me on the court. So many faces in that stadium looked up to me, all for me to fail them.
After fulfilling my part with the media after the game, I went straight home. I wasn’t in the mood to sign autographs or make conversation. Coach could shout at me the next day. I just wanted to go home.