She turned from my dresser and cackled.
“To take Harley to school,” she said, and spritzed some kind of body mist on her skin.
“Nah, not dressed in those leggings. And why do you need body mist to stay in a car?” I questioned.
Mia placed one hand on her hip as she contorted her face. “Marcus, I’m taking Harley to school and I’m coming back. I slipped on these leggings because they are easy to put on.”
“You have never worn leggings before,” I stated, and she licked her lips.
“Marcus, I’m wearing the leggings. Now, what’s next?” she pushed back on me.
Heat rushed through my core at the thought of somebody getting a glimpse of my future wife. She was a damn plus-sized goddess.
“Wait for me, I’m going,” I said.
Mia tossed her hands in the air. “Why?” she questioned.
“Why? Do you see your ass in those leggings? Nah, you can’t wear those unless I’m with you.”
Mia pinched the bridge of her nose as I kissed her temple and pulled her toward the bathroom. I needed some assurance she wasn’t going to leave me and take Harley to school, anyway.
“Marcus, you made Harley late for school for no reason,” Mia said into my earpiece.
When she got home, I pulled those leggings off her body and tossed them into my backseat. She had an attitude that I didn’t have time to adjust before I left.
“I apologized to her, and she was okay with it,” I said.
“You’re her dad. Of course, she is not going to disagree with you.” Mia hit back.
“Say what you want to say,” I encouraged because this argument wasn’t about Harley; it was about her wanting to keep those leggings.
“Marcus, I want my two-hundred-dollar leggings back!” she yelled on the phone.
I pulled into the stadium parking lot and found Bryce angled against his car.
“Mia, you know I’m not going for you wearing those.”
When the phone went silent, I parked and dialed her back.
“What!” she yelled.
“Mia,” I said in a low authoritative tone and a pause stood between us.
“Ughhh. I’m sorry I shouldn’t have hung up,” she said softer.
“And what else,” I pushed.
“I shouldn’t have yelled,” she said.
I paused for a minute and smiled. “You gon’ give me a better apology later. Understand?”
“Yes, baby.”
“Have a good day,” I said, and we hung up properly.
Stepping out of the car, Bryce chuckled. “Trouble in paradise.”
I smacked hands with him. “I came into the room and Mia got on body paint. She tried to pass it off as if they were leggings. Ass hugging every crease. I put them in my back seat,” I said.