Page 66 of Real's Love

“And now you won’t do it and you still hurt. So, what you got to lose?”

The rest of my appointment was mostly quiet as I thought about what she was saying. Phee made perfect sense, but I didn’t feel like being logical. A little while later, I paid her despite her protests, and dragged back to the SUV. Suddenly, all I wanted was to get to my Granny Nette and PawPaw. My parents were off exploring African cities, but my grandparents would love on me just as hard and reassure me just as much. The driver, Adrien, had already grabbed food while I was getting my hair laid, so I didn’t feel bad about requesting a drive-thru meal.

At 5:24 PM, I was on my grandparents’ couch, greedily soaking in my granny’s love and greatness. My face pressed against her vanilla-scented house dress as she held me and rocked me. She didn’t ask what was wrong. It didn’t matter. She just knew I needed her and that was enough. She hummed above my head, stroking my straightened hair. I could feel other members of my family behind me, wanting to greet me or check on me. But they knew better in the moment. Granny-time was sacred. And it was very much needed to soothe my embattled heart right now. A long while later, when I was calmer, Granny pulled back just enough to tilt my chin and press a kiss on my forehead.

"My sweet Love, who did you go and give your heart to?" she whispered.

I felt my eyes widen as I shook my head. That wasn't true. I may have caught a few feelings, but my heart was still mine, like it was going to stay. I would never do something as ridiculous as--

Would I?

I shook my head again.

"I didn't, Granny! It's not like that. I'm just?—”

"Shh, baby. Granny was overstepping, anyway."

Her voice was soothing as she held me tightly again. I couldn't really explain to her--as much as I shared, I wasn't ready to talk to my grandmother about my having a fuck buddy.

All there had ever been between Montréal Hamilton and me was sex. That was all there would ever be. I just needed to block out the times it had seemed there may be more.

(Eight monthsago)

I dragged myself across my threshold, ready to soak in my tub, then curl into a ball in my bed. Today had been horrible, one of the days that I hated my job, hated being a nurse in general. I made sure my door was secure behind me before heading for the stairs. Fifteen minutes later, I had washed my face and brushed my teeth. I stood naked, waiting for the bath to fill as the scents of lemon and orange sweetened by honey rose around me.

I sank into the granite tub and went boneless for a minute, just letting the water swallow me. I was hoping it would soothe away my mental and physical aches, the overwhelming pain of the day. But that wasn't my luck. Slowly, I pulled my knees toward me, my head dropping as my tears disappeared into the water. I bit my lip as the anguish of the day's events settled over me. Looping my arms around my legs, I rested my head on my knees and just cried for a minute. I didn't give in to the urge to flat out sob. If I did, I might never get out and Real was coming over. Usually, a day like today left me wanting to be alone, but I was looking forward to seeing Real. It almost felt like I needed to see him. I liked talking to him. More than that, I liked just being with him. I didn't want to think too much about what that meant for our arrangement.

After bathing and thoroughly moisturizing my body, I slipped into a snug, lavender, cotton-knit tee and matching little skirt. I did a quick beat, needing the mask between Real and me because I felt so vulnerable. I needed something to do until he got here, something that would distract me and require my concentration without being too difficult. I reached for my phone. He answered after the second ring.

"You can't wait to see Daddy?" he teased.

I couldn't help the smile that crept across my face.

"Have you eaten, Mr. Conceited?" I asked.

"I was gon' pick up something, but shiii, if you cooking..."

"I'm cooking."

The phone went silent for a minute. I looked down at my screen, waiting. Finally, I called his name, wondering if he was in a bad spot.

"I'm here. Why you sound like that?" he asked.

It was my turn to be quiet as the question caught me off-guard. I cleared my throat and tried to inject some happiness into my voice.

"Like what?"

"Like something's wrong. Ev--"

I laughed softly, hoping he didn't realize how fake it was.

"Nothing's wrong. I'll see you soon, okay?"

Quiet again, then, "Yeah, see you soon."

I disconnected the call right before the tears started again. Something about the fact that he could read my voice and cared enough to comment on it had me sobbing, delaying my start on the fajitas, rice, and beans for half an hour. I had just gotten everything started when I got the notification that he was here. I buzzed him in and sipped from the glass of wine I had poured. I heard the front door open and close as he entered the house. His footsteps neared, and I turned toward the stove, blindly stirring my peppers and onions. I didn't say anything, even when he was finally close enough for me to inhale his delicious cologne.

"I asked you what was wrong," he said, voice low.

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