“Can I just come to yours?” She swallows audibly.
“Did you call the police?” I ask in as measured a voice as I can manage. I don’t want to upset her more than she is already.
She scoffs. “That’s the last thing I’m going to do.”
“What? Why not?”
“Uh, I’m alone, I’m a woman, I’m Black, and I have no proof that anyone broke in. The best-case scenario is that they’ll take a report. That’s not worth the risk of the worst-case scenario.”
I stop myself from arguing with her. She’s right, especially the fact that she’s alone. “Okay. Fine. When you get here, we’ll go to down to the precinct together and file a report.”
She groans. “Kwame, come on. Can we do that tomorrow, please? We were supposed to be celebrating tonight, right? I want to enjoy that if possible.”
I relent against my better judgment. Only because she sounds okay.And I want her to enjoy tonight, too. “Okay, but I don’t think you should stay there until we’re sure it’s safe.”
There’s a stretch of silence, and I look at my screen to check if the call is still connected.
“Sin?”
“Yeah.” She clears her throat. “I’m sorry it’s just that I was about to say the same thing, and actually, that’s why I called instead of just heading over. Can I crash at yours? I promise I won’t disturb your solitude. And just until l can get my locks replaced and finally get an alarm system?” She’s so hesitant and halting that it makes me feel like an asshole.
“I mean, I like my solitude, but I like you even more. Of course you can stay. As long as you like,” I add without hesitation. I mean it. This woman is more than my lover. She’s my best friend.
“Oh my God, Thank you. It’s a lot to ask. I know you don’t like sharing a bed. So, I’ll sleep on the couch—”
“Unless you don’t want to, we can share my bed,” I cut off that whole line of conversation. No way is that woman sleeping anywhere but where she’ll be most comfortable. “If you prefer, I’ll sleep on the couch,” I offer.
“You can’t sleep on the couch in your own house.”
“Emphasis onmyhouse. No arguments, Sin.”
“I’d love to share the bed, then,” she says with a sheepish smile.
“We’ll look at furniture for one of the rooms so you can have your own space, too.”
“Thank you so much, Kwame. It won’t be forever, I promise.”
It actually sounds more like a threat. “You can stay as long as you need.”
She lets out a shuddering breath. “God, Ihatefeeling like this. I hate that I need a fucking gun. Thank you for not making me feel paranoid.”
“That’s not paranoia. It’s trauma. You were attacked in your home by someone who broke in. That’s not something you just get over. And your body remembers and reacts when it perceives something that’s hurt it before. Please don’t beat yourself up and second guess your intuition. Trust yourself.”
“Baby,” she says on a soft sigh that I feel all the way in the center of my soul. “You always know what to say. I’m sorry if I’ve ruined our anniversary plans.”
At the reminder of what the rest of the night has in store and reassured that she’s okay, I switch roles with her and bring the light back toour conversation. “You couldn’t ruin anything if you tried, Sin. In fact, now that I know you’re not doing your Cinderella at midnight routine and sleeping over, I predict it’s going to be even better than I imagined.”
She giggles at my melodramatic voice. “Oh my God, Kwame, you’re so crazy. And wonderful. I can’t believe you actually made me laugh.”
My chest swells with satisfaction. “I’ve dedicated a lot of time to honing that craft, baby. I’m very happy to hear it works.”
“I like it when you call me baby,” she says in a voice that makes blood rush to my dick.
“Do you? Well, baby, get over here so I can feed you, feast on you, and fuck you to sleep.”
“Oh Kwame, why are you so amazing?” she says in a soft voice, free of the anxiety she started this conversation with.
“You bring it out in me.” I mean it. She does.
