Page 19 of Betrothed To Love

That’s a long ass time.

EIGHT

“What are you doing? I can’t see your face?” I ask Niya as I stare at my phone screen.

“I’m coming!” she yells, as if she’s not just a few feet from her iPad.

I just called, and although Shuga answered, Niya’s right beside her. They are in the kitchen making Niya’s favorite snack, masa, these little, puffy rice cakes with powdered sugar on top. Shuga used to make them for us growing up.

“Give her a minute. She’s getting her little apron from the pantry so sugar won’t get all over her,” Shuga says away from the iPad. Neither of their faces show on the screen. My only view is the island countertop and the stove in the back.

“Are you seasoning the meat for tomorrow too?” I ask and Shuga’s face fills the screen.

“Are you questioning me about something in my kitchen?” she asks with a smirk across her little face.

“No, I’m questioning you about the Suya you want me and my brothers to grill tomorrow,” I counter and she tsks loudly.

“It’s seasoned. Niya and I did that this morning. Ain’t that right?” she asks Niya.

“Yes. We did it, Daddy,” Niya says as Shuga lifts her and places her in the stool. The moment her pretty face fills the screen, she asks, “You see me?”

“I can and you look so pretty. I miss you. You ready to see me?” I ask.

“Tomorrow, I am,” she says honestly. While I know my baby loves me, she truly enjoys spending time with Shuga.

“Do you even miss me?” I ask and she giggles.

“Every time, Daddy, and I love you,” she says.

“I love you too, baby.”

“Have fun at work,” she says before I see her little finger aiming at the screen.

Niya ends the call and I just smile. Niya’s happy and that’s all that matters. Now, I need to head into these condos, figure shit out with my new, unexpected wife, and tell her about the most important girl in my life.

Because of my zealousness to get Ace out of jail, I started all of this shit. Regardless of my initial intent of just a drink with the judge on his case, the end result has us here, married. This shit is all my fault and I’m not trying to jeopardize her seat on the beach, so whatever she needs me to do, I’ll do it.

Me: In the parking lot about to come up.

Mireya: Ok. 6th floor. 609.

Mireya: Don’t forget to check in at the desk.

I exit my ride then walk inside the building. Because she informed security of my arrival, check-in is smooth and quick. I’m on the elevator heading up to her floor in less than five minutes. When I reach her condo, the door is slightly ajar, but I knock anyway. It opens seconds later and pure perfection is on the other side.

Mireya looks stunning with her hair up, giving me a full view of her beautiful face. Her bright eyes look up at me and her full lips curve into a smile. She’s so damn pretty and this long beige dress she’s wearing hugs every inch of her frame, putting her hips and thick legs on display. Damn!

“Hey. Come in,” she says before stepping back. The man in me wants to pull her into me but I have enough sense to resist. I keep my hands to myself and walk into her home. As soon as I enter, a calming vibe hits me. Her home is warm, smelling good, and inviting, just like her. “Would you like something to drink?” she asks while directing me to her sectional. “I have almost everything. I’m having a mimosa. I think I’m going to need something more than juice and I’m boycotting Manhattans, considering,” she says with a slight smirk.

“I’ll drink whatever you have,” I say before sitting.

“Okay. You hungry?” she asks.

“You cooked?” I counter.

“Um, no. I can but I didn’t. I just ordered a small platter from The Deli. It’s light and a little bit of everything,” she says.

“I can eat,” I say, then stand. “But let me help you.”