I grab the nearest thing—a crystal jewelry box—and fling it at his head. He ducks. It shatters on impact. I throw everything at him as he tries to reach me. When he gets close enough, he pulls me into his embrace. I do the ugly cry.

“All I feel is sorrow. It’s in the enamel on my teeth, in my hair, under my nails . . . It’s all I am now.”

I don’t remember how I got to the floor; maybe he put me there or maybe my knees gave out. All I know is that we’re there now. He’s holding me from behind, my back against his chest. He can’t stop my tears from overwhelming me. But he refuses to let me drown alone.

It’s nightfall now. The house is pretty quiet apart from the sound of the TV coming from downstairs. I can make out Nate’s voice, along with one of my mom’s favorite commentators, Rachel Maddow. I guess tonight, Nate’s doing MSNBC.

Back in the room, Devonte’s made no move to let go of me, and I’m more than okay with that. I saw him text someone earlier. I think it was Nai, because even though I heard her come into the house, she didn’t come in my room like she normally would.

My throat feels raw, and when I try to talk, my words come out as a harsh whisper. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” he says, as if this was just a normal event in our lives.

“For being a mess. If you want to break up—”

“Stop it. I’m not about to leave you because of this. If I leave you for anything, Ayo, it will be because you put mayo on your eggs.”

I try to laugh but don’t quite succeed. Instead, I reach back and elbow him in his ribs.

“That’s how they do it in France,” I reply proudly.

“Also, you go hard for untalented band members.”

“I’m telling you, Pras has untapped potential.”

He groans. “And worst of all, you have a thing for generic cereal.”

“You never even tried Fruit Rings!”

The more I protest, the more he laughs at me. “The point is, Ms. Ayo Bosia, none of those things will make me bounce. So hush and let me be here for you.”

I turn to face him and find tears springing to my eyes, tears I thought had long dried out. “She can’t die. She just can’t.”

“Die? No, not your mama. She’s a boss. You know that.”

“Yeah, I know. Hey, thanks for . . . you know.”

“All good. But when and if we ever get here again, you should know, I need to be wooed. I mean it. I want flower petals, scented candles, all that!”

I laugh at his silly ass, and Nai calls for me to come down.