Page 23 of Betrothed To Love

Minutes before he arrived, my heart started beating a little faster than normal but I brushed it off as natural nervousness. The man I married online in the middle of the night while floating, thanks to THC and bourbon, was coming to my place. Who wouldn’t be anxious? But when I opened my door and saw him, damn!

Quintus is gorgeous. He has a swag that he owns and I love it. I love a confident Black man, especially one who can dress and smells like heaven. His woodsy, spicy scent intoxicated me the moment my door opened and his appearance entranced me next. A chocolate man in all brown should be illegal. Casual Quintus is just as sexy as tailored suit Quintus. The simple but clearly designer light brown short sleeve tee, dark brown jeans, and matching deep brown LV sneakers look flawless on his tall, muscular frame. He’s mastered the whole professional with a side of street vibe. This man is fine.

My husband…

Who’s all in my space…

I like it but I shouldn’t.

“I’m going over to my parents’ early to start the grill but I can come scoop you around one,” he says, answering the question I still can’t believe I asked.

After gathering my breath to calm my ass down, I manage to say, “No. Cooking then stopping to drive here for me makes no sense. I can drive myself.”

“It’s no problem. My brother is helping me. He can manage while I pick you up,” he insists, but I stand firm.

“No, it really makes no sense. I’m driving and I’ll be there at one. What do I need to bring?”

“Just yourself.”

“My ma didn’t raise me to show up emptyhanded. God rest her beautiful soul.”

“Oh, sorry to hear that,” he says with so much compassion.

“Thanks. It’s been a few years but I miss her and my papa every day,” I admit. Grief is strange. Some days it’s manageable, and others, it’s not. Today, I’m managing but I’ll always miss them both. I can bring something sweet. How many people?”

“You really don’t have to bring anything.”

“But I am. Can you just give me a number, please?” I insist with an extra-big smile.

“At least fifteen.”

“Damn!”

“There’s a lot of us,” he says.

“Clearly,” I comment with a smile. “It was just me and my grandparents. I can’t imagine. My only family are my best friends.”

“It gets crazy,” he says with a smile. “But it’s all love. You can bring them if you want. I’m gonna have to meet them anyway.”

“Oh, you definitely have to meet them but I’ll arrange something with just us soon and let you know. For our first introductions, I think separate is best.”

“Do they know about us?” he asks with a sexy smirk. God, he’s gorgeous. I can’t tear my eyes away from him.

“Yes, they know. We don’t have secrets. They are my everything,” I tell him. Then his cell rings. He stares at the screen, almost hesitant to answer. “Go ahead and answer that. I’m going to take this into the kitchen,” I tell him, then grab my flute and walk out of the living room.

The minute I’m in my kitchen, I exhale then laugh at myself. This nervous, anxious version of me is foreign as hell. I’ve never felt like this before, not in law school, not when I took the bar exam, and not even the days I was sworn in as a lawyer and later as a judge. Each of those were monumental and pivotal for me and I didn’t have an inkling of this nervous energy.

Is it the thought of pulling this marriage off until after the election or is it him?

The sound of him entering my kitchen pulls me from contemplative thoughts. I turn to see him standing in the doorway with a peculiar expression.

“Sorry. I gotta go. One of my clients has the police at his crib with a warrant. I need to handle this,” he says before stepping closer, into my space. “I just sent you the address for my parents.”

After placing the deli platter and his flute behind me on the counter, he snakes his arms around my waist, and for some reason, I don’t stop him or try to push him away. There’s comfort in his arms, so I allow him to hold me. My five foot nine frame cowers next to his much taller one. He has to be over six feet tall because my head rests under his chin. When I raise my eyes to connect with his, a smile spreads across his handsome face.

“What?” I question.

“I’ve been waiting to get my arms around your soft body since you opened the damn door,” he admits. “And now I gotta leave.” His hand caresses my chin then he continues. “Can I call you later, wife?”