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“You was just cussing me the fuck out yesterday.”

“And today I’m not.”

He went quiet.

That bothered him more than me yelling ever did.

Because Xay knew how to deal with me mad.

He knew how to let me cuss, disappear for a few hours, come back with some money, dick, an apology or another fucking promise.

What he didn’t know how to deal with was me not asking him for shit.

“I’ma come see him tomorrow,” he said.

“When?”

“I’ll let you know.”

“Then I’ll believe it when you get here.”

“Heather—”

“I’m not arguing with you, Xay.”

“I ain’t arguing either.”

“Good. Look at us growing.”

He sucked his teeth.

I smiled.

“I gotta go. My food getting cold.”

“Aight.”

I hung up on that nigga before he could say bye.

I wasn’t about to keep arguing with this nigga.

I’d done enough of that.

Three years of conversations.

Promises.

Excuses.

Waiting.

Collin was here now.

There wasn’t shit left to talk about.

My heart was beating a little harder, but I didn’t call him back.

Didn’t send a paragraph.