Page 11 of The Love of Priest

"You sure you know how to walk in those?" Priest pointed at the open toed stilettos. The heels paired nicely with the stone-gray dress that hugged her body to perfection and was topped with a matching coat. The color coordinated outfit was nice on the eyes and contrasted her cocoa butter skin perfectly.

She released a sigh before readjusting her feet in the heels. "I'm trying. I really am. These are taller than I usually go for," she chuckled.

Priest let out a chuckle, reminding her of the night she first crossed paths with him. Just like the first time they met, he opted not to respond to her and instead walked the two plates to the porch where Remy was awaiting them. He handed the plates off to Remy, causing them both to thank him.

"Priest, meet my daughter—" Remy started to introduce the two, but Priest interjected.

"Britain. “Humans of New York.”" His raspy voice filled Britain's ears while his eyes never left hers. Remy was confused by how Priest knew who his daughter was and what she did for a living. Priest could feel Remy's eyes searing into the side of his face in protection of his kin. "We've met before." Priest detached his hooded orbs from Britain and averted them to Remy.

Britain swallowed down the lump of nerves that accumulated in her throat. She thought Priest wasn't going to mention that the two were acquainted with each other. During the few months she had been around her father, she had learned that he didn't allow any outsiders in on his life, and certainly no outsiders got to meet her. "We met at my best friend Jadey's wedding," Britain further explained. Remy nodded his head, shifting his eyes between the two.

"'Preciate you for stopping by, Priest. I'll hit you soon," Remy concluded, ending the stare down Priest and Britain were having.

Priest let out another one of his chuckles. "Cool. Hand my contact over to Britain when you can," he told Remy.

Britain shifted her weight from one foot to the other. For the life of her, she couldn't understand how Priest was bold enough to openly insinuate that he wanted to continue getting to know her to her own father.

"You still want my story, right?" Priest raised a brow at Britain who was so filled with nerves she was only able to nod her head in front of her father. Remy cleared his throat before peering down at both Priest and Britain who stood at the bottom of the porch.

"Nice seeing you again." Priest smiled while extending his hand to Britain. Britain did the same, shaking his hand with a smile of her own. The feeling of his massive hand engulfing her smaller one caused a shudder to rush up her spine.

"Nice seeing you again, too."

With that, Priest made his way toward his car, his gait just as dominant and alluring as Britain remembered it.

ChapterSix

Britain satacross from her father, staring down at the breakfast that filled her styrofoam plate. She could feel his deep, rich chocolate eyes searing into her, observing the deepest portions of her soul. Remy had questions, but he wasn't sure if it was his place to ask. He had only known his daughter for all of five months, and he didn't want to overstep.

"Can you just please?—"

"Stop staring," Remy let out in unison with Britain. He knew exactly what his daughter was thinking and what she was about to say, just as she knew exactly what he wanted to ask.

Remy leaned back in his wooden dining chair with an amused chuckle. He wiped the corners of his mouth of any lingering crumbs from the biscuit he had as part of his breakfast. This time, Britain took the time to eye her father. For a man his age, he was fit and looked great. His caramel skin was blemish free and often glowed after he smoked his morning blunt. He was muscular after his many years he spent working out in jail. When she first encountered Remy, whose full name was Jeremy Pharoah Demings, Britain thought she had made some mistake. He looked like more of a friend than a father. However, his hearty soul and coarse voice let Britain know that he could discipline her if she needed to be, even if she was 28 years old.

His tattoos were Britain’s favorite thing about her father. She recalled a time when she asked him what his story was, and he simply rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, extending his inked arms and hands to her. His two arms were the only parts on his body that he canvassed with ink. Remy felt like his hands touched and experienced far more than many people had. He'd touched dope, held a gun, consoled loved ones, and counted money from all around the world with his hands and arms.

"Yes, please stop staring," Britain continued while she forked up another piece of her breakfast sausage and ate it.

Remy smirked. One thing he learned from being around his daughter was that she never held anything back. It was a trait she inherited from her mother. Britain had a lethal tongue and always said what was on her mind. It was a trait that sometimes had consequences, but she always fought her way out of them.

"You remind me of your mother. How is she anyway?" Remy asked as his mind wandered back to Seven Jewel. She was a beauty. Many would say she should have been a model since her beauty was so striking. She had a set of full pouty lips. With her big doe eyes accompanied by lengthy lashes that curled up at the ends, she could swoon anyone. Britain always wanted her mother's confidence. Seven was positive she was one of the most beautiful women on earth. Britain cleared her throat.

"She's fine. Finally got that private practice opened." A smile grew into Britain's face. Her mother had achieved a lifelong goal.

"She still look good in scrubs?" Remy smirked.

Britain screwed her face up in disgust. "Ew! That's my mom."

Remy threw his head back in laughter. "Well, I know that Britain. I made you right along with her," Remy snickered jokingly as he reminded his daughter.

Britain rolled her eyes. "If you must know, Mama still looks great in her scrubs, and she prefers them yellow since it compliments her skin tone." A light smile took over her face again at the thought of her mother.

Remy swiped his tongue over his lips before a smooth chuckle eased out. "I remember the day I met your mama."

"Really?" Britain’s curiosity was piqued. Seven never talked about Remy much. She always deemed him as a road she never should have gone down, but she was glad she did since Britain was the outcome of their two souls intertwining. Remy nodded his head with a smile of his own.

"Yeah, could you tell me? Ma never talks about you," Britain absentmindedly let out, causing Remy's smile to weaken.

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