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“Men,” I sniggered.
MALACHI was sprawled across the tag plate. I continued around the truck until I reached the driver’s side again. There, I hopped inside. On the passenger seat, I found more evidence of Malachi’s generosity. A black bag with Chanel written across it sat beside three black boxes that were covered in a velvety texture that almost every woman was familiar with. I opened the smallest, revealing a silver watch that was covered in sparkling diamonds.
Though I was a gold jewelry girl, I knew instantly that the style wouldn’t have looked as good in gold. The silver was perfect and matched the bracelet from the second box I opened. It was a dainty piece, correlating with my preferences. Last, the thick, diamond-encrusted bracelet sealed it. It was beautiful, almost too beautiful for the naked eye.
“Malachi,” I whispered his name. “My God.”
The Chanel bag rattled as I removed the large box. The flower fell from on top of the black box as I untied the string. Upon lifting the top, I found a black flap bag inside. It was the classic Chanel piece and a dream for most women—me included. To have the quilted masterpiece in my hand was unbelievable.
My cell vibrated in the pocket of Malachi’s shorts. Because I’d run out of clothes, they were the only option unless I wanted to run across the property bottomless. The unknown number somehow felt familiar. My conscience wouldn’t allow me to ignore the call because there was an inkling that Malachi was on the other end, waiting to hear my voice.
“Hello?”
“Baby.” He spoke into the phone, his baritone reminding me why I was smitten from our first conversation.
“Yes.”
“You’re awake.”
“And outside. Malachi, all of… all of this stuff. Why?”
“Because you deserve it and so much more. It didn’t come to my attention until yesterday that you prefer gold jewelry. I’d already ordered these pieces but the next set will be—”
“Noooo. I love these. All of them.”
His attention to detail was rewarding. Even the small things, he didn’t miss.
“If the color of the Wagon doesn’t fit your style, we can always rewrap it.”
“I love it. I do.”
“This is my new number, Aeir. Lock me in. Put a few hearts by my shit. Check the glove compartment. There’s something there for you, too.”
“A few hearts?” His words were amusing. “Isn’t the plate that says Malachi enough?”
“Motherfuckers need to know what time it is, Aeir.”
“What time is it, Malachi? I’m not sure I know myself.”
“Was that $274,000 whip not enough? The matching bracelet, watch, and chain?” He laughed.
“Nope.”
“Not even the dick that I’ve been stuffing down your throat and up your—”
“Malachi.”
“I’m just making sure I’m making myself understood, Aeir.”
“None of that matters, Malachi,” I sighed. “Only you.”
“I know, baby.”
“So, why don’t you ask me? These gifts will double in sentimental value.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Umm hmm.”
