Page 43 of Gotta Jones For Ya
And just like everything he did, there was no plan B. No backing out. Just me, him, our wild-ass life, and a room full of witnesses waiting for my answer. Tears flooded my eyes. My hands flew up to cover my mouth.
Walking toward him, I whispered, “Yes,” but it wasn’t loud enough.
“Say that shit again,” he grinned, unhinged and in love.
“Yes!” I laughed through my tears.
The whole party erupted as he slid the ring on my finger, kissed me hard in front of everybody, and whispered in my ear, “You better had said yes. You know what’s up.” All I could do was cry and laugh.
I used to think love had to look a certain way—neat, planned, predictable. But what Keon gave me was reckless and raw, loud and overwhelming, but real as hell. He loved me out loud. Protected me without question. And even when we clashed, even when I doubted, heneverfolded. Not on me. Not on us.
So yeah… as he would say: I gotta Jones. I loved him real bad. Always will. Forever.
