“Like fuck,” he admitted.
I chuckled. “It’s going to work out.”
“My family is religious and probably think I’ve been trying to pray the gay away this entire time.”
“Yeah well the same way you told me you’d take my family on for me, I’ll take your family on for you so let me know what you want from me and that’s what we’re going to do.”
“No matter what they say, just let it go.”
I clenched my jaw but nodded.
“I can do that.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. I promise. Whatever you need me to do or be, is what it is,” I said. “I’ve got you, baby.”
“Alright.” He exhaled and I slowly ran my thumb back and forth over the back of his neck again.
I watched him slowly relax.
Asante had put up with being my secret for two years. He’d gone to my family and let them question and judge him and he’d done that shit with a smile and unwavering support. I could handle his family talking shit about me to my face and saying I didn’t deserve their son. That shit was a drop in the bucket to what I’d put Asante through.
When we got to the restaurant, we were the first people to arrive which I thought was a positive thing. We had a reservation so we headed inside and collapsed at the table.
I knew Asante’s family were religious and practiced Christianity but I also knew that they were from Kenya and had named both Asante and his sister Swahilian names.
It was a Swahili tradition to provide a dowry in some form so I’d brought gifts for every person in his family from his parents to Nadira, her daughter and her husband. I let the gift bags rest on the floor and ordered a water instead of an form of alcohol in case his family didn’t fuck with that.
I’d worn my glasses instead of my contacts. People acted like I was less of a danger with them on.
Asante tapped his fingers on the table while I watched. I knew he needed a cigarette. I also knew he didn’t want to smoke before seeing his parents because of the smell.
“Ay,” I grabbed his attention. “I’ve got you.”
“I know.” He leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest.
I knew Asante had said multiple times that his family wouldn’t make him cut ties but as someone who’d said the whole thing, I knew ideally that choice wouldn’t have been on the table.
Did I think we would get married even without his family’s blessing? Yeah.
Did I think he would be happy about it? Fuck no. Not in the moment anyway.
I knew who Asante’s parents were the second I saw them, not because of the family resemblance but because of the way Asante visibly shut down. It was like all the nervousness inside of him melted away and in its place was left defensiveness he didn’t usually show.
He climbed to his feet and I followed his lead.
“Hey.” He dapped his dad up and hugged his mother and sister.
I hugged Nadira first since I’d already met her.
“This is Bishop,” Asante introduced me. “Asante these are my parents.” He gestured to them.
“Nice to meet you.” I shook each of their hands then we all sat down at the table.
I let Asante and his family lead and faded into the background. They asked me small questions about myself like where I’d met Bishop and what I did for work. We put our orders in and I ate in silence while Asante told his parents about the club and they told him about his family in Kenya that he apparently hadn’t spoken to in a while. Nadira talked about the stomach bug that her daughter apparently had and how thankful she was for her husband taking care of her for her to sneak off.
We were damn near done eating when Asante’s father opened the flood gates.
