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Yeah, I wanted to pounce on her ass. My eyes cut to her. “He’s washing his hands, which I need to do as well.”

“There’s hand sanitizer right there,” my father pointed out. Now, if there was hand sanitizer in here, why did he send my man to the bathroom to wash his hands? There was no need for me to ask, because I could only imagine what his response would be.

Seconds later, footsteps could be heard behind me. “Milan Renee, it’s nice to see you again,” Ledger’s voice greeted her warmly. His cologne wrapped itself around me like a warm blanket.

Milan Renee smiled like a cheesy-ass kid. “Hey, future brother-in-law.”

My mama cleared her throat. “Let’s sit down so we can eat before the food gets cold. Malcolm, say grace.”

We all sat, and my father did as he was told. My mother cooked a nice spread. I told her that Ledger loved pot roast, so that was what she cooked, with green beans, red smashed potatoes, macaroni and cheese, and homemade yeast rolls. One of my favorite pastimes as a child was when my mother pulled yeast rolls out the oven, buttered them, then gave my sister and me one that was still piping hot. We knew that we needed to let it cool down a little, but we never did. We ate those rolls and burned the hell out of the roof of our mouths, with no remorse or regret.

We were about fifteen minutes into dinner when my daddy put his fork down on his plate. Ah, shit. “Ledger, my daughter over here,”—he pointed at Milan Renee—“she tells me that you own a private cigar lounge and a digital assets firm. That is an interesting combination.”

My tight eyes focused on my sister. Her ass had told them a lot. Now that I thought about it, they probably knew that information when they asked me the thousand questions about him. I didn’t recall them asking what he did for a living.

Ledger, who had finished most of his food, set his fork on his plate. “It’s actually a perfect combination. Through my years as a digital assets strategist, I have closed many deals on golf courses, country clubs, and in cigar lounges. To be a guest at these lounges, I often had to become a member. That alone cost me thousands of dollars a year. After a while, I decided I should just open my own.”

My daddy looked like he was impressed, but he masked it quickly. “That makes sense. Kryptonite Reserve. I’ve heard of it and have been there once or twice in the past two years as a guest. It’s a very nice establishment.”

“Oh, yeah! Isn’t that where Johnathan had his divorce celebration?” my mother asked. She tittered. “I can’t believe men are having divorce celebrations now, when they’re the reason for the divorce.”

My father chuckled. “It is, love. Ledger, what are your intentions with my daughter?”

There it was. The question that I knew would come. It was the same question that he asked my ex. My ex had a great answer, which was clearly a damn lie. I wondered how Ledger would answer this question, which would more than likely be the beginning of a bright future or the end.

SIX

LEDGER

My Intentions Are Pure . . .

When my mother popped up at my office while my baby was in the shower, I wouldn’t say that I was embarrassed. It wasn’t like she caught us in the act. When I was younger and lived in her house, she had caught me once or twice in the middle of sexual escapades. That shit was embarrassing.

When she pointed out Memoree Layne’s panties on the floor, that was a little embarrassing. I had a habit that when I took her panties off, I threw them toward a wall, like that dude on social media did with his glasses after he tried something amazing. My woman’s pussy was amazing, so those panties would always go to the wall. After my mother’s office visit, I told myself I’d stop doing that when we were in our respective offices.

I knew Mem believed my mother thought badly of her because of the situation she walked in on. Well, she didn’t walk in on shit, but you couldn’t tell my baby that shit. Kamila Johnson was on my phone later that night. She raved about her future daughter-in-law. She even asked me how long until she could expect a marriage proposal.

Now, here I was, at Memoree Layne’s parents’ house for Sunday dinner. It was probably best to get it out of the way now. With the timeline that I had in mind, it would be less than six months before she had a ring on her finger. That depended on whether things continued the course that they currently were on.

“Ledger, what are your intentions with my daughter?” Mr. Smith’s question was expected. It was a question that I planned to ask whatever nigga my future daughter brought home.

The worry on my baby’s face was loud. I wasn’t sure why. “Mr. Smith, my intention is to love, protect, and take care of her. I have always been a man that played for keeps. If I felt like the game was worth being a part of, then I played to win. Memoree Layne is the prize, the blessing, the favor that God intended just for me. My plan is to govern myself accordingly.”

“Well, damn,” Milan Renee mumbled. “That was a good answer. I see you, Sis.”

Their mother wore a wide smile while their father still sat stone-faced across from me. Even with his expression, the relaxation in his breathing pattern told me that he was pleased with my answer. I was pleased with it myself.

“Well, I have a question.” Memoree Layne’s mother spoke up. “You said that your intention was to protect and take care of her. Well, we raised our daughters to do both of those things. How does the addition of you in her life change that?”

I smiled at her question. “You certainly did. If I didn’t know anything about my baby, I know that she is fiercely independent.” We all chuckled quietly. “It’s not my desire or intention to change that about her. Independence and protection can co-exist. I am fully aware that she can handle herself. It’s my job to make sure that she doesn’t have to handle more than necessary, if that makes sense.”

“It makes absolute sense,” Mr. Smith interjected. “Son, let’s call out the elephant in the room and put it in a place. Our daughter clearly lives with albinism, which means she has the gene. She is grown now, but I remember hard years when she struggled to cope with it. On the off-chance that you also have the gene, and you two have a child that is albino, how would you handle that?”

I thought about his question. “I’ll be honest; that is a hard question. I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that I would love my child and protect them as I do their mother. May I ask how you handled it?”

His question was a valid one, and most people would have a confident answer like they knew exactly what they would do. The two things that I told him, I knew came without question. The fact was that it would be new territory, and outside of stares and smart words, I didn’t really know what to expect. One thing I did notice was that Mem didn’t talk much about any ridicule she might have faced as a child because of her condition.

Her father shifted in his seat. “How about we take this conversation to the back deck? I have a couple cigars out there that we can indulge in.”