Her voice was light, low, and gentle. Pulling away from the door to give her privacy proved to be harder than I’d anticipated. Silently, we gazed at each other. A soft smile tugged at her lips. I took a deep breath, understanding I would hardly be any good without Royce.
Not just for the moment but for the future.
I closed the door, giving her the space she needed to handle her business. I busied myself in the cellar, searching for the finest wine amongst my small collection. I wasn’t home much and it was evident. Still, I located a well-aged red that I hoped she loved before heading back to her.
She had emerged, yet she was nowhere in sight. I turned to my right, wondering where she’d gone. My heart pumped loudlyin my chest. It settled the moment my eyes witnessed her glory again. She descended the stairs with bright, curious eyes.
I held the red wine in my hand, trying to make sense of Royce’s perfection. I couldn’t. But, I knew that it wasn’t the bottle I wanted to drink from. It was her fountain.
“You have a gorgeous home,” she complimented.
She settled in front of me. Her beauty was taunting me. Controlling me. Demanding things of me I shouldn’t have been agreeing to.
Breathlessly, I shook my head from one side to the other. I was struggling to place my feelings, thoughts, and words. Everything was misaligned. She was destroying me and piecing me back together at the same fucking time.
“What if–” I huffed, short of breath.
“What if what?”
“What if I don’t want to pretend anymore, Royce? What if this is no longer a game for me? What if this is real? What if we are real? What if it was never a hoax and simply the path that would lead us to each other? Not until this election ends, but forever.”
Royce stood twenty-five feet away from me, soundless. I waited for her words. Her smile. Her movement. Something.Anything. There was nothing.
“I don’t want to pretend anymore.”
“Then how do you proceed, Ishmael?”
“With intention. With devotion. With dedication. With determination. With resilience. I run your race just as I am this race. I conquer your heart and win the election. We spend our lives debating about the temperature of our home,this home, instead of what time we’ll meet to stage more images of a life I want to create instead of imitate.”
“Sounds like a fairytale. I’ve learned that those aren’t real.”
She was jaded. I wasn’t sure who hurt her but it wasn’t me. And, I wasn’t going to allow their mistakes to hinder our progress.
“You’re right, my baby. This is no fairytale, because I am no hero. I am a killer. And, the moment those dirty lies were spread about you, I wanted blood. I wanted everyone who indulged, shared, liked, or believed that bullshit to bleed. I wake up every morning suppressing my urges to turn Berkeley into a cemetery.
“You’re no angel, Royce. You’re not a damsel in distress. You’re a natural-born leader with a Glock bigger than most niggas attached to your thigh. You can’t sleep without it. You can’t eat without it. And, you won’t hesitate to empty that motherfucking clip.
“You’re stubborn and hardheaded, sure to get some niggas hurt, because you love the reward risk brings. It makes your pussy leak. It hardens your nipples. It turns your faucet on.
“So, again, this is no fairytale and I’m not interested in one. I want something real. Something solid. Something impenetrable. Something to last a lifetime.”
I demolished the space between us, hammering away at it with each step I took.
“Everything about you assures me I can have that with you.”
I was no longer holding the wine. It was Royce between my fingers.
“And, I want it.”
I cupped her chin.
“No pretend.”
I pulled her closer while lowering my lips to hers.
“No make-believe.”
She gasped.
