“I know you’re not used to being in a relationship,” I say slowly. “I know you’re not used to people being this close to you. But… I want to know you.”
He doesn’t respond. His jaw tightens and he exhales through his nose. “I was really embarrassed,” I admit, laughing nervously just to stop the tears from forming.
“When your aunt said you were born in July and I had no clue… and your middle name is Omari and I didn’t know thateither.” My hand drifts to my stomach, almost without thinking. “And I’m carrying a baby for you.”
His grip on the steering wheel shifts slightly. “Do you even understand how stupid that makes me feel?” I whisper.
Still, he says nothing.
I swallow hard. “I know maybe to you it’s not a big deal, but it is to me. It really is. And I think about it all the time, like… what’s your favorite food? What color do you like most? What’s your favorite movie? Normal stuff that girlfriends know.”
I breathe in, shakily. “But I’m always afraid to ask. Because you’re just… you.”
My voice cracks on that last word and I hate it. I hate that I sound so fragile. “Your only focus is making me happy and running your business, and yeah… I love you for that. I do. But it can’t only be that. You’ve got this huge wall around yourself, even though you gave me permission to love you… you’re still so hard to reach.” I let the silence sit there, thick between us.
Then, finally, he speaks. “Ah… sorry ‘bout that,” he says, his voice low. “Mi never really have nobody who care ‘bout dem thing deh. So it never really occur to me fi tell yuh.” He chuckles a little, but it sounds nervous. Unsure. “Anuh like mi wah yuh feel dem way yah, but… Jah know, mi deeven know wah fi say.” He pauses, fingers tapping the steering wheel now like the words are fighting to come out right.
“Wah mi a try say is… mi never have no woman love me how you love me. Like, genuinely. Not fi mi money or mi name or fi say ‘mi did deh with Nick’ like that alone prove dem worth.” He glances at me now, and I can feel the weight of it.
“No one never ask mi them thing deh. Mi middle name, mi favorite color, mi birthday. Mi never even think seh someone would care.” He looks back at the road. “So fi you ask me dem question… mi nah lie, it new fi me, Zara.” I exhale, my chest easing even though tears still threaten to spill.
“I understand,” I say quietly. And I do. God, I really do.
He continues. “Mi a try… mi swear. Fi understand the whole love ting, relationship ting. But mi slow with it.” That makes me smile a little. He’s trying and that’s more than most men ever do.
“That’s okay, baby,” I say gently. “That’s why we’re gonna play Q and A.”
His lips twitch up at the corners. “Ah. Ask anything.”
“Okay,” I say, sitting up in my seat and tucking my hair behind my ear. “Favorite color?” He looks at me like I didn’t waste a second.
“Blue,” he answers, like it’s obvious.
I smile. “Me too. But I think most men love blue. Me? I love pink.”
He chuckles. “And most women love that.”
I nod, a small giggle escaping. “I think we should use those colors for the baby shower. Blue and pink.”
“Yah,” he agrees softly, and there’s something in his tone that makes me think maybe, just maybe, he sees this going somewhere long-term, somewhere solid.
“Yah. What’s your favorite subject?” Nickoi asks out of nowhere, surprising me.
I blink. He’s actually into this game? He’s trying. I smile a little at that.
“Me love English,” I say with no hesitation. It’s not even just a subject to me, it’s how I breathe.
“Oh yeah, ‘cause a that you teach too,” he says, smiling like he’s proud of me.
I nod, that warm flutter in my chest showing up again. “What about you?” I ask, genuinely curious.
“Maths,” he replies without skipping a beat.
I raise an eyebrow and give him a playful side-eye. “All now me inna awe yuh get 1 inna Maths.”At least you know that.
He laughs, head tilting back just a little. “Wid flying colors.”
I make a mock gasp and clear my throat dramatically. “Okay, bright bwoy,” I tease, grinning.
