“How do I do this? How do I even deserve this after what I let happen to my son?” she asked.
Her question penetrated his core. It was a taste of the torment she walked around with, and it stung badly enough to wet his eyes.
“How do you not deserve a man that’s gon’ love you back to life after you’ve been to the edge of death over your son? You want to follow him there. I want to keep you here, baby. I want to marry you one day, when you’re ready, after a lot of therapy, a lot of prayer, and a lot of healing. I want you to be my wife, Lauren.”
“So that you can feel better about having sex with me? Is this some sick way to make it right with God?” she asked. “Does marriage solve anything? If you’re addicted, you’re addicted regardless. Right?”
“It’s my way to do right by you. I don’t want to be the man you’re using to distract you from all this. I don’t want you to let me use your body for pleasure without having intentions of sticking around for the hard parts. I want you to put it on me when you can’t carry it, Lo. I want you to hand it here. I want to lick every wound,” he said, placing a finger to her chin and tilting her gaze to his. “I can have your body whenever I want. You’ll give it to me cuz I know what to do with it. I don’t need to finesse you for that. I want to marry you because somewhere in between the mess we been making of one another, love made itself athome. I don’t want you to be alone, Lo. I want you for myself. And you’re right, addiction is addiction, and if you tell me it’s too much, I’m here to slow it down, but I’m too deep in to stop.”
“I’m so overwhelmed right now,” she admitted, sniffling as he pulled her into an embrace.
“Me too,” he countered. “I didn’t see you coming. But choose this anyway. Ain’t that what you said to me?”
Lauren shook her head. “I said love me anyway.”
“I’m trying to, but you got to be willing to receive it,” Nyair said. “We can keep going how we going and end up hurting each other at the end of it, or we can try to do this right. All you have to do is say yes.”
“I don’t think you know what you’re getting yourself into here. I don’t feel like I’m supposed to feel good things right now. I’m not supposed to smile. I’m not supposed to have joy. It’s not right. I’m not supposed to have you. Not right now. Why did you have to come to me right now? When I’m not ready!”
He reached for her hand, and as their fingers intertwined, she held on for dear life. He lifted their fists to his lips and kissed her knuckles.
“Three letters, one word. That’s all I want to hear.” He went into his inner jacket pocket and retrieved a velvet red box. The words Cartier were emblemed on top. “I ain’t forget the most important part either. I’ve thought about this.” He smiled coyishly at her, licking full, perfectly mauve-tinted lips as he flipped open the lid. “Y-E-S?” He spelled out the answer for her but left the option to choose lingering in the air.
Lauren’s eyes burned so badly that she couldn’t even see the four karats in front of her. Why God would take her through a fire that blazed so wildly to get to this point, she would never understand. She had so much baggage. She had experienced so much loss. The intense and sudden change, the missing her only child, it would all make her so difficult to love.
“Getting over this will be a burden, Ny. You have your pick. Why would you choose a love this hard?”
“You’re not going to get over this, baby. You’ll feel the absence of your son for the rest of your life. I don’t want to get you over losing DJ. I want to love you through it. You’re not a burden, Lo. You’re a responsibility. You require attention and obligation. You need time and commitment. You need physical restoration. I’m doing that. I been doing that, and I can feel how desperate your body’s been for a nigga to just touch you the right way, to please you, with intention. You been missing that, and I’m enjoying giving you that, but you need mental restoration too, Lo. Spiritual restoration. Emotional restoration. Have faith in me, Lo. Have Faith in God that He’ll give you what you deserve.”
This man. This man. This man.
“I’m a mess,” she whispered.
“You’re a message,” he corrected. “For somebody, somewhere. Some mother. Some woman. When I’m done loving you right, you’ll be somebody’s message.”
“Yes,” Lauren said, shrugging and sighing because…fuck it. She had nothing left to lose, and she couldn’t deny that through all this pain, the one emotion she felt clearly was her affection for him. She could eat, breathe, and sleep this man if he let her. She loved him. Their taboo, poorly timed, and inconvenient bond was everything.
“Yeah?” he confirmed, unable to hide his excitement and relief.
She nodded as he slipped the beautiful pear-shaped ring on her finger. “Please, take care of me, Nyair.”
“I intend to, baby. A nigga gon’ do that real well.”
“Stop cussing, Pastor. Your congregation already gon’ think I’m a bad influence.”
He snickered. “Yeah, we got some things to do.”
“Your little church groupies are going to hate me,” Lauren sniffled as he cleared the tears from her pretty face.
“Yeah,” he said. “We can handle that business, though. There’s going to be some naysayers. I’m up for fighting for this. If you with it, I’m with it.”
Lauren nodded, and he leaned in to kiss her lips. “It’s us versus whoever, but we going to do this right so that ourusincludes God. Ain’t nobody beating us like that. There’s one condition, though.”
“What’s that?” she asked.
“I need to restore my discipline. We need to press pause on the physical until we’ve invested in the spiritual connection. We started wrong. We started with lust. Let’s fill up on love until it’s official.”
It sounded like a challenge. She was so physically turned on by Nyair. It was on sight every time, when he entered her space. Even now, she wanted to be conquered by him. This wouldn’t be easy—for either of them—but she knew it was best for them. He sensed her hesitation.
