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Two Months Later
I sat on the edge of her bed, watching Pasha get ready.
It was Saturday and the day of her family reunion. My baby was so nervous. I’d convinced her to reach out before the event so she wouldn’t go in blind. It took some persuasion, but I finally got her to agree to post in the group on FlexSpace. She was transparent in telling them her story from beginning to end. In the message, she detailed her struggles with her mental health, the demise of her marriage, as well as her divorce and journey to starting over.
It was no surprise to me that they responded with love and support. Family, real family, would never hold her response to grief against her. They showered her with words of encouragement and condolences. Their response was a little overwhelming, but it was precisely what she needed.
Since then, she’d seen a few of her cousins and two of her aunts. The smile on her face when she returned from her lunch dates with them was beautiful. She was glowing, and I loved that for her. I was glad at least one of us got to mend our familial relationships.
“Do I look okay?” she asked again.
“Baby... I’m gonna tell you the same thing I told you five outfits ago. You look beautiful.”
She looked back at me. “You didn’t have to do me like that.”
“You did it to yourself, woman.” I stood and stepped behind her in the mirror, wrapping my arms around her. “You are perfect and look perfect in whatever you put on.”
She looked up at me with a smirk. “You’re just saying that because you’re ready to go,” she jested.
“I am ready to go because we have an hour and a half drive. But I also mean it. You look amazing.”
She’d lost about twenty pounds in the last two months. She still had her thickness, but it was more toned. She’d lost her stomach, but her breasts, hips, and ass all remained the same. I wasn’t mad at that. I loved her body before, and I still love it now. The high-waisted shorts she wore stopped midthigh and showed off their thickness. The crop top showed off a sliver of stomach flesh.
She completed the outfit with sneakers, a simple pair of studs, her mother’s necklace, and her father’s wristwatch, which I’d since gotten repaired for her. Since it was a little hot out, she pulled her curly mane into a sleek puffball. I loved that style on her. It always presented the perfect, unobstructed opportunity to kiss her neck.
“I do look cute, don’t I?” she asked.
I shook my head. Her confidence was growing, and I loved it. I loved that she was beginning to see herself as the beautiful woman we all knew she was, inside and out.
“Come on, woman,” I said, patting her thigh. “You know I like to be on time.”
“And you know a Black event never starts on time. You’re only on time if you’re late to these things.”
I shook my head as I headed out of the bedroom area to the front door. A few seconds later, she joined me. For a moment, I just admired her. She’d come such a long way. She’d upped her therapy sessions for a while. She was journaling more. She’d be active with her yoga, exercise, and meditation. I was so proud of her will to live and be better.
“What?” she asked, looking up and catching me.
“What do you mean ‘what’? I can’t admire you?”
She smiled. “Of course, you can.” She stood on her toes and pressed her lips to mine. “Come on, let’s go.”
“After you, my love.”
After stopping for gas, our total trip time ended up being two hours.
This year, the family reunion was being held on a yacht. It wasn’t a small one either. I was sure her family paid a pretty penny to rent this big baby out for the day. There were three levels and a pool on board. Pasha told me we would be on the water all day. I wouldn’t object to that. The weather was beautiful, the perfect day to be outside.
I climbed out of my truck and went to the passenger side to let her out. Hand in hand, we walked toward the boat.
“Pasha!” came a loud squeal from in front of us.
We looked up to see a young woman, probably Pasha’s age, running toward us. She damn near knocked her down as she ran into her arms for a hug. They were both squealing and talking over each other. When they finally parted, the woman looked up at me.
“Who’s this?”
“Journey, this is my boyfriend, Callum. Callum, this is my cousin, Journey.”
“Her once-favorite cousin,” Journey stressed, elbowing her. She extended her hand to me. “It’s nice to meet you. You did good, girl. Where did you find him, and does he have a brother?”
