Page 2 of Real's Love

Or the time I was whining about missing my mama’s gumbo while she was busy jet-setting, and he surprised me with a trip to a little hole-in-the-wall, hours away in New Orleans. I vowed never to tell my mother that I had found heaven in a gumbo from someone else’s kitchen.

Bit by bit, Tate Thibadeau had worn me down. We had no titles, but I knew that was coming soon. The love was definitely already there.

“Lawd, it must be that pretty ass dude she crazy about. He fine as his big brother, Drew! That fool just be walking around LSU looking delicious! Anyway, you gon’ just keep smiling at the screen or you gon’ read the message?” Emory teased.

“Mind yo’ business,” I mumbled, even as I tapped to open the message.

TL:

Was hoping to see you tonight. Did you enjoy the show?

I swatted at Emory as she read the message aloud.

“Em!” I groaned as she and Theory catcalled.

“Girl, gon’ and gas that man up! Tell him he looked good with that cane,” she said unapologetically.

“That’s so boring,” I complained.

I definitely enjoyed the show. That’s why I wanted my laptop—so I could see him perform on a larger screen. Nervous, I still sat there and typed a version of what Emory said.

Me:

The way you handled your cane was amazing. You really have a way with it.

Only after I hit send did I realize how the message sounded. I dropped my face in my palm as Theory and Em hollered. I really was going to kill Emory’s nosy ass. My phone vibrated again.

TL:

Let me show you how well I handle it in person, Youngin’.

I died right then. Fell backward on my bed and died from embarrassment. My sister snatched the phone from my lifeless hand.

“His corny ass!” she muttered.

Then her fingers started moving.Ahh, shit!

“Emory! No!”

She held up a hand as she moved closer to Theory.

“Girl, let the professionals handle this.”

I could’ve fought her for the phone, but I had to admit, Emory was way better at flirting than I was. If Tate had been in a more serious mood, I would’ve grabbed my little iPhone and dared Em to try me. But playful, flirtatious Tate? I’d trust my sister with that.

Five minutes later, she smacked my leg.

“Get up. You chillin’ with Mr. Candy Cane tonight. A quick shower and freshen up. I know you ain’t coming up off the pussy, but still,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“Emory, what?—"

I stopped as she waved a hand.

“Ev, you done spent a hundred nights on the phone with that boy; why not one in person? He says he wants to give you your gift and tell you Happy Birthday at midnight. Let him!”

“It’s so sweet,” Theory gushed.

From the doorway, Epiphany made a small sound, her pretty face all twisted up as she clutched her mug.

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