Page 32 of This: Blake & Emon

Chapter 16

Blake was trying so hard not to be nervous about meeting Emon’s mama. But she was. And he wasn’t sure why. Surely, she knew that he would never lead her astray. If he said his mom would love her, she could take his word for it. Still, his queen was in that pretty little head of hers, hoping her jeans weren’t too tight.

“Relax. What I tell you?” he asked.

“Yeah, but I don’t wanna look like a hoochie.”

“Girl, my mama got permanent gold teeth. She is the hoochie,” he said, reaching over to tilt her chin up. She was tripping and there was no need for it. He loved his mama, but what she felt didn’t matter to him. He was in love with Blake, and one thing he wasn’t going to do was go back and forth about it.

“Don’t say that about your mama,” Blake said, stifling a laugh because Emon would say whatever came to his mind. He was crazy, and that sense of humor was why she loved him so much.

“For real. My mom is cool, old school, and from the gutter herself. She raised me, remember?” He brushed his thumb across her cheek, trying to ease her mind. “Plus, you look good as hell in them jeans. Them bitches look painted on.”

Blake opted for red high-waisted skinny jeans that hugged her curves. Paired with a black halter top and some matching Dior slides Emon bought for her, the outfit came together perfectly. She kept her makeup natural but made sure her lip gloss was popping, just as Emon liked it. She even kept her hair simple, with a perfectly slicked-back ponytail.

“You sure it ain’t too much?” she questioned one last time.

Blake was worried, although Emon had made it clear that what his mama thought didn’t matter to him, it mattered to her. This wasn’t just any woman’s opinion. This was ViceAnne Dowlen, the woman who raised her reason for the love she felt in her heart. Her reason for existing, it felt. She’d done it as a single mother, making Blake feel honored to even get the chance to meet her. It made her miss her own parents, wishing she could formally introduce her lover to them. She could picture telling her daddy how Emon loved her, protected her, and celebrated her. How he never missed a beat, from remembering her coffee order to making sure she was safe. Her father would’ve appreciated that kind of attention to detail, that kind of care for his baby girl.

“Baby, you overthinking. My mama probably wondering where we at, not what you got on.” He pulled into a beautiful colonial-style home with a well-manicured lawn. Cars lined the street. Clearly, ViceAnne didn’t do anything small. The smell of barbecue and the sounds of Prince’s “Do Me Baby” filled the air as they exited his truck.

“Your mom lives here by herself?” Blake asked, taking in the property. It looked like a home that she saw inO Magazinegrowing up. Large open windows that let the natural sunlight in, shrubs, trees, and columns that seemed to stretch upward for miles.

“Yep. Told you I take care of mine.” Emon squeezed her hand. “Now come on. Let’s get this over with so you can stop worrying.”

The two walked into his mother’s house hand in hand. Emon could feel her nervousness, so he pulled her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. She loosened the grip on his hand by the time they made it to the kitchen, where he knew his mom was.

“We made it, Mama,” he announced. His mom and aunts all rushed over to pinch his cheek and take Blake from him. His mama was happy for her son. Emon had a good heart, and she’d been patiently waiting for someone to come along and see just that.

“Son, she’s gorgeous. Who her people? I know them eyes from somewhere.” Vicey was squinting and leaning back, trying to place her.

“I’m a Bishop,” Blake said, finding her voice.

“Sho’ll is. Soulja Bishop. Girl, your daddy was a good man. Everybody loved him. We’d be down at the Dynamic Six, he’d buy everyone a round like it was nothing. Baby, she good people.”

“I know, Mama,” Emon said, his eyes finding Blake across the room. That look still made her weak in the knees. Under his gaze, she felt like she was the only woman in the world. Even in his mama’s kitchen, surrounded by family and food and noise, he had a way of making everything else fade away with just one glance.

“I believe it. It smells good in here. Can I help?” she replied to his mother after coming from under the haze of love Emon always seemed to have her in.

Blake always appreciated hearing stories about her father. She knew him as her daddy, not as Soulja. He’d kept that hidden from her for most of her childhood. It was Brooks whobroke the news to her about who he was when he wasn’t being Dad.

ViceAnne had welcomed her with open arms, pulling her into the kitchen immediately to taste test the macaroni and cheese and baked beans. “Baby, you know how to season?” she’d asked, and when Blake rattled off her seasoning list, ViceAnne hugged her tight.

Emon watched on for a little while to ensure she was releasing her nerves before deciding to leave her with his people while he went to the back to kick it with his cousin. They didn’t have a big family, more friends turned family, but blood didn’t matter.

He spotted his cousin Giovanni and dapped him up.

“Damn, bro, you been missing. It’s like that?”

“I got me a woman now. A nigga be occupied but for all the right reasons.”

“Feel that! It’s shorty I helped with?”

“Yea, she the best. Got me ready to write love notes, songs, and shit.”

“Damn, a nigga need me one. It’s finna get cold,” Gio joked.

Emon felt him. He felt blessed knowing he’d have a warm body to curl up with after too many cold winters, empty Christmases, and New Year’s Eves spent in bed by nine. Having someone to share life with changed everything. Now he just needed to get her to move in. These separated nights were wearing on him, even if it was just two days a week when she had early mornings. Like any man in love, he wanted his woman close, wanted to handle her bills, and wanted her focusing on school instead of worrying about rent and utilities. He had the space, the means, all the streaming services. He just needed her home with him, but he’d be patient and wait until she was ready.Once her things crossed his threshold, the next step was the altar, and with Blake, he wasn’t playing any games.

---