Page 1 of Not About That Life
BookI– A Hot Mess
One
Atlanta. The ATL. The Black Mecca.
The biggest small town in the world.
The moment I stepped outside of the private jet, it felt like home.
It felt like Sunday dinner at Big Mama’s. It felt like Thanksgiving at your favorite auntie’s. It felt like watching a marathon ofLove Jones, Love & Basketball, and Jason’s Lyric.
Everything.
As we ushered inside and stood in line at On Point, a mom and pop’s soul food joint, I couldn’t help but to notice the giant diamond on my finger. A single solitaire flanked by two smaller stones. It was absolutely perfect.
It was absolutely Ian.
I don’t know why I’d ever doubted him for a second. He’d proven his love to me over and over, and without hesitation or wonder. Whenever he went away, he came straight home. He would send texts during the day, even though he probably didn’t have time to. He would make breakfast every morning and never complained I didn’t cook.
He was my everything.
As I lay against him in line, I softly sigh and close my eyes. His light beard tickled my forehead as he placed a soft kiss on it. His body, a sculpture of perfection – not too muscular, but not too lean – engulfed my curves as his hands dug into my waist. We softly rocked from side to side to music not outwardly played, but in our hearts.
We had our rhythm. He led as I followed. I pulled as he pushed. He gave as I took. It was our life. It was our roles not defined by each other but by love and hope.
He lightly rubbed my shoulders while I inhaled the warm scent of his citrusy cologne and I suddenly craved oranges. His strong, muscular arms protected me from all harm, and silently promised me they always will.
I slowly opened my eyes and saw his stunning blue ones looking back at me. He was finally content, at peace, and filled with love.
The last several years of his life were painful, and the demons almost took over to destroy everything left. He beat the demons, maybe at a sacrifice of his own happiness, so they could no longer interfere for his life. He protected his brother and father, and me in the process.
We landed in ATL overnight and went straight to sleep, only waking up to have earth-shattering, lamp-breaking sex the next morning. My body slightly shudders when I think how forceful he was in bed, claiming me over and over with his mouth, his fingers, and his glorious, thick cock.
Whenever we made love, it was never just sex. Our souls connected, our lives intertwined, and we went deeper into feelings beyond just love. Even the first time when I lost my virginity to him, we both knew how important the moment was, despite how painful. He was meticulous and gentle with me, kissing me all over and being careful not to hurt me too much.
I stifled a low moan that threatened to come out. I’d already craved him again and Ian was officially my addiction.
We take our spots inside the restaurant and find a cozy spot next to the window. A Southern charm is present in everyone from the servers to the cooks to the patrons. People are joking around and laughing. Someone is playing “So Amazing” loudly on their cell phone and no one is complaining, but some are singing along.
Ian casually looked over the menu and I stare at him in awe like a groupie. Gone were the three-piece suits and open collar ensembles he loved to wear and show off whenever he could. Instead, he wore a fitted shirt and jeans, with loafers. A dark cap covered his thick mane of dark hair, but couldn’t hide his devilish grin full of mischief.
He was a beautiful man and something he knew, but was rather humble about. Instead, Ian focused all of his energy into his restaurants, his philanthropy, and supporting the rest of the Ferguson clan.
He’d given me whatever I wanted. All I ever wanted was him. Ian was always my home.
“Angel…” The words flow out of his mouth like a breathy whisper and I feel them course through my body and land on my heart. He slowly looks up at me, his blue eyes piercing through my body with the same intensity and raw sexuality like the first day we’ve met at my old job at Caffeinated. My body tingles and my breath is caught in my throat.
“What are you going to order?” I softly ask.
“Everything looks amazing,” he sets the menu down and reaches over to grab my hand. He softly kisses it and places it next to his mouth, “though, the best dish is right in front of me.”
My body hums to his words and I yearn for more. “I’m going to get the chicken and waffles with a side of mac n’ cheese. What are you getting?”
“I’m thinking about the fried catfish with a side of collards,” his British accent is lazy and relaxed, probably for the first time in forever.
There’s a small and comfortable silence between us as we just smile and stare at each other. The past couple of days were hard on us both for different reasons. Now it seems we can relax and be happy in our quietness with each other. “When did you want to make an announcement about our engagement?” I follow his lead.
“Whenever you want, though I would prefer we privately enjoy it for a bit before word gets out. Once that happens, it’ll be non-stop questions.”
