Page 78 of Fumble Into the End Zone

As I worked on the meat sauce, he leaned against the counter, watching my every move. He didn’t sit down until we ate dinner.

Two hours later, I stepped out of Harley’s bedroom and switched off the light. I kept the light on in the hallway and bathroom for her to see. With Granny not being down here, I worried about her getting scared through the night. Marcuswaited for me as he rested against the living room wall. As I passed him, he followed behind with his hand gripped on my shirt. I switched on the light in the primary and ushered Marcus to the bed.

“Baby, is this what you spend money on today?” he questioned as he pulled the clothes out of a matte black shopping bag.

What should be a smile stood as borderline disgust as frown lines appeared on his smooth dark skin. I rounded the bed to enclose the space between us. He lifted the jeans in the air and tossed them on the bed.

“Excuse me. I’m not understanding the attitude right now,” I questioned.

He bit down on his lip and tossed the jeans on top of the bags. Before it landed on the bed, I folded my arms across my chest. Flashbacks of my previous relationship danced into my thoughts and increased my breathing. Nothing I ever did for Nathan was good enough. His thank you’s were always followed by what I could’ve done better.

“Baby, I wanted you to spend money on yourself, not me. Right now, it’s about you and Harley. I will get stuff when I hit my second contract. I need to focus my funds on our house, Granny, you and increase my savings for Harley,” he said.

My mouth parted at his answer as I tried processing his statement. Marcus’s football, NIL, and branding contracts were public record. He was a millionaire.

“First and foremost, I can financially take care of myself and...”

“It’s not your job to take care of yourself. I’m not wired for a woman to pay. A man provides more than sexually for his woman. You will be taken care of, Mia,” he said with authority.

As I processed his sentence the muscles in my face tightened but quickly relaxed. The way Marcus phrased his sentence leftme unclear of how to react. I lingered between being upset but happy about his declaration to provide for me. Something I didn’t ask him to do, but I guess I should appreciate it.

“Okay, help me process this. You take care of me, Granny, and Harley,” I confirmed.

“Yes,” he said with lifted brows.

I interpreted the wrinkles on his forehead as if this was something I was supposed to know.

“But who is supposed to take care of you?” I questioned as I peered up.

Marcus’s head jerked back as if I cursed him out. He blinked his eyes several times as he searched for an answer. For a second, his eyes appeared to be glossy.

“I take care of me,” he struggled to say.

Reaching for his hand, I seized it. “No, Marcus, this is a partnership. Don’t deprive me of the joy I get from taking care of you. In this relationship, you are a priority to me. My man comes first and now it’s going into overdrive.”

“Baby, I didn’t . . .I’m just . . . ”

“Used to being last,” I said as I searched for his eyes.

As his eyes glossed, I closed the remaining space between us and pushed my face into his chest.

“My mom left, then Harley came and grandpa died and . . . ”

“Marcus went to the back burner,” I finished as I tilted my head upward.

“Well, I get to take care of Marcus. My love language is acts of service. Get used to it. If I see something I want you to have or wear, I’m buying it. And I will use whatever card I see fit,” I said with hiked brows.

Marcus’s head danced from side to side as he tried to resist his surrender to me. I smiled and batted my lashes, nudging a light laughter from him.

“I took a guess on your style. Did I get it right?” I questioned.

He kissed my forehead, and the warmth of his lips sent my heart fluttering.

“Hell yeah, the clothes are fly. I should be on the best dressed list this week walking into the stadium,” he said with confidence.

“Good,” I said and walked into the bathroom.

Reaching for my toothbrush, two hands locked me in place. I rolled my eyes up to the ceiling as I secured my toothbrush and loaded it with sensitive toothpaste. For some reason brushing my teeth meant being kissed on.

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