Page 26 of Betrothed To Love

“My brothers talked shit but that’s them. They can’t wait to see the woman who locked me down. Asali wasn’t surprised and neither was Shuga really. I don’t think we can do much to shock them anymore. Her biggest concern is Niya, of course. I don’t bring women around her.”

“But do they know it’s fake?”

“What’s fake?” he asks.

“Our marriage.”

“It’s not though. We are legally married and it’s going to be announced in The Chronicle tomorrow. It’s real as hell.”

“But you know what I mean,” I say. He kisses my forehead again and totally dismisses what I said.

“I hope you’re hungry. There’s a ton of food. We only do Sunday dinner once a month and Shuga likes to do too much.”

“What all did you tell them?” I ask, still stuck on the fact that they know and think it’s real.

“That we’ve been seeing each other for a few months but I fell for you the moment I saw you sitting at a bar one night. I knew then and decided not to wait, so we got married,” he says, and if I didn’t know better, I would believe him. He sounds so damn sincere.

“And they were just cool with that?”

“Yeah. My brothers have done wilder shit than this. Trust me. They’re straight. They just want to meet you,” he assures me before releasing me from his arms.

“No pressure at all,” I tease because all of a sudden I feel some tension. That nervous, unexplainable energy I get around him returns. To shake it off, I exhale, sigh, then smile. I’ve got this. “I’m ready.”

With his hand resting on the small of my back, he leads me down the road to the house. There’s an audience standing in the driveway, closest to the double garage doors are five tall young men. They all stop and stare as we approach.

“I see you, Unc!” one says extra loudly and they all laugh. He steps closer and says, “I’m Hassan, his favorite nephew.” Then he swats his hand back and hits another one who has long locs in the back. When that one turns around, I immediately notice the resemblance.

Twins.

Although these two are identical, all five of them look alike. One thing is very clear, genetics are real. His nephews are all handsome, tall like him, and have the same rich milk chocolate skin tone and square jawlines.

“This is my bruh, Hussain, and my cousins, DJ, Deric, and Twon.”

“What’s up, Auntie?” Hussain says before hugging me. Once he does, they all do.

“Ay, get off my wife,” Quintus says playfully after the last one embraces me. “I thought you were watching the grill anyway,” he tells Hassan.

“Nah. Shiro took care of it but it’s done. We just waiting on y’all, so Shuga sent us to get you,” Hassan says.

“Then let’s go eat,” he says and turns to me. Communicating with squinted eyes, he checks on me. I pick up on it and nod before we follow the boys into the beautiful home and out of the back door to the covered patio with a sea of people all looking at me.

When he mentioned a big ass family, he was not exaggerating. I stop counting after twelve. The interesting dynamic is the ratio of men to women. Counting me, his beautiful mom, and his little girl with the largest puff on top of her little head, there are only five women in correlation to all the tall men who look alike.

“Welcome to our home and family. I’m Shon, but everybody calls me Shuga,” his mom says before genuinely embracing me. She’s stunning. Her salt and pepper afro is reminiscent of the Black queens in the seventies. If Quintus hadn’t told me she was sixty-one years old, I would have never believed him. She looks so young.

“Thank you. I’m Mireya.”

“I know. He told us all about you and your impromptu wedding. You owe me a celebration,” she whispers before ending our hug.

“That’s my husband Asali holding our little princess who seems to forget how to walk when she’s here,” she says as she motions to her husband. “She just woke up,” she tells Quintus.

“She’s ready to eat,” he responds.

Asali steps closer and Quintus takes his daughter from his father’s arm. During the exchange, her pretty hazel eyes dart over to me then she quickly turns her head. Once in her dad’s arms, Niya buries her face in his chest. The only view I have of her now is her thick hair.

“The newest Mrs. Bako,” Asali’s deep voice booms, tearing me away from Niya. When I look up, I’m met with a warm smile plastered on Asali’s face that mirrors his son’s. There’s no question what the later years hold for Quintus. Twenty years from now, based on his father’s appearance, Quintus will still be good looking.

“Nice to meet you,” I tell him.