Page 183 of Anything Necessary for Her

We waited, sniffles sounding off and tissues being passed about as my daddy gathered himself.

“Lisara.” He gripped her hands even tighter before bringing them to his mouth to kiss. “From the moment I laid eyes onyou, I knew I was in some trouble. I was like a nigga on a mission, trying to figure you out and make you mine, despite the circumstances. I knew a woman like you, resilient, beautiful, giving, selfless, and maternal was a once in a lifetime type of deal. Not many women could mother six sons and perfectly, then mother a son that wasn’t hers the same way, as if she’d carried him herself. Not many women have six amazing ass sons that a nigga would be honored to guide and father.

“Our situations at the beginning were a recipe for disaster, but we made it through, love. And we not only been making it through since then, we been enjoying the fucking ride.

“You brought so much light to my life, brightening areas I didn’t even know were in the dark. I, too, wish I could’ve met you sooner, but simply because the years in one lifetime simply just ain’t enough. I need you with me at all times, love. There is no other woman I would rather spend the rest of my days with. There is no other woman I would’ve wanted to bear my first and only baby girl. There simply is no other. I vow to love you for the rest of my days, baby, and even after that. Whatever is on the other side of this life, I’ll love and honor you within that as well.”

It wasn’t a dry eye in the place, especially me and all the ladies who were sobbing audibly. My brothers and Low just had damp eyes as they watched, Keziah crying like the actress she was, though I was sure she didn’t truly know why.

My mother’s makeup appeared to be ruined under her veil as Warner proceeded on, asking my parents to repeat after him. Once they had, and he pronounced them as husband and wife again, my daddy lifted the veil to kiss my mom, and it was the only time I actually wanted to see such a thing. I usually would look away.

The whole wedding party, including the kiddos, jumped to their feet to cheer, some of the couples kissing simply because of the love felt in the room or on the beachside.

As my parents made their way back down the aisle, grinning excitedly, we all trailed them inside before splitting. They went to change, and we ventured into the humungous resort hotel and to the reception hall that had been decked out in a beach theme.

The deejay wasted no time keeping us on the floor, the kids taking up most of it as they danced, play fought, and just ran completely wild.

“Let me introduce you to Mr. and Mrs. Chianti St. Thomas, . . . again!” the deejay shouted, causing a roar of applause as my mother and father entered the reception room, my mom in a more breathable dress.

“You look beautiful, Grandma.” My nephew Benton, Bashar and Analicia’s son, complimented his paternal grandmother like always.

We always said Benton would grow up to be a player. His little brothers, Britton and Blaze, were a little demurer, while their older sister, Brisa, was usually in her own little world.

“Thank you, cutie!” My mom bent to kiss him as he smiled, feeling accomplished.

“You are too much,” Analicia told her son, rubbing his head.

“Got the charm like pops, huh?” Bashar grinned down at his son, holding his youngest, Blaze.

“He definitely does.” Farrah, Leeci and Stazi’s mom chimed in as her grandson hugged her while her boyfriend Fred stood behind her grinning at the interaction.

Miss Farrah refused to marry again feeling like no one would ever live up to her first husband Ade Chase and therefore could never sit in his spot. I respected it.

Benton slapped hands with his father before running off after Amir toward the other rambunctious boys. Their parents wrangled them and quieted them down as my parents moved to the middle of the floor for their dance.

“I Care 4 U” by Aaliyah played softly as they danced together, and I remembered my mother telling me she loved the song even more after meeting my father because the lyrics described how she’d felt upon meeting him perfectly.

She hadn’t been able to believe his ex and Asif’s biological mother had fumbled a man like him.

The thought made me smile as I pressed the back of my head into Low’s chest while his big hands caressed my round belly.

Once the song commenced, everyone was able to dance as well, the deejay doing an amazing job with his song choices.

We danced and sang along to everything from YG’s “Why You Always Hatin’” all the way to Earth Wind and Fire. My grandparents felt YG was too raunchy, though, and kept asking the deejay to change against our wishes.

Of course, DJ Quik had my brothers on their feet, shouting the lyrics word for word like they were in the official music video. That and “Phone Number” by Tupac.

I chuckled seeing Presley and Shakur’s four sons—Sahil, Mikail, Sakim, and Malakai—fighting to dance with their mother as she laughed heartily.

“How about I dance with her since she mine?” Shakur cut into their bickering, making them groan as Presley placed her arms over him, simpering before they kissed.

The day continued on into the night with a lot of drinking, except for Kabrina and I, dancing, horseplay among us all since we reverted to children when my parents were around, and of course shit talking.

As a semi-slow song by Eric Bellinger descended upon us, Low pulled me to him, smiling lazily from drinking and then going to smoke with my brothers about half an hour ago, while the ladies and I gossiped without male intervention or opinions.

“You the best thing to ever happen to me, Peep.” He kissed my neck, his hands groping at my ass and turning me on.

I pulled back some, palming the side of his face to look into his whiskey brown eyes that I loved so much before pecking him slowly and deeply as we swayed to “G.O.A.T.”

“Ditto,” I whispered as we kissed harder under the now dimmed lights of the ballroom. Strobe lights shot around us like a psychedelic disco. “I think I’m obsessed with you.”

“’Bout time you joined the fucking club, Peep.”

I used to sit in my teenaged bedroom that overlooked the backyard, admiring Low and drumming up all kinds of fantasies about him, and as I grew older, I did away with it all.

One thing I never could’ve dreamed of was the man Willow Harris actually was. He was handsome, sexy, loving, protective, supportive, and tenacious. My favorite attribute to date, though, was how no matter what, he would do anything necessary for me.

*FIN*