“Do you have a comedy?”he asked.
“Thisisa comedy,” I informed him.
“You’re crying.”
“That’s Southern for comedy,” I educated.
“We just watched a young woman with a young child die, hermother standing there watching as she passed after her daughter was taken offlife support.That isnota comedy, honey.”
At that, for somestupidreason, I let loose.
“She got married to the man she loved.She gave him a baby.She had a momma who loved her.A daddy who adored her.Brothers who annoyed herbut also adored her.Friends who thought the world of her.Her hubby was alawyer who gave her a big house where she could make spaghetti in a bigkitchen, even if she did pass out and slip into a diabetic coma in thatkitchen.She had it all.She didn’t have it for long but she at least had it.And she appreciated having it.She knew what it meant.And she knew how preciousit was.And she left this world with that preciousness held deep in her heart.So she’s good to wait with God until their time comes to join her because sheentered those pearly gatesknowin’ she left the worldhaving everything she needed.”
Marcus stood by me sitting on the couch, staring down at me,and I felt his look like he wasn’t standing removed and staring at me, but likehe was close, holding me in his arms like he loved me, only me, had forever,and would forever and always.
“That might not say comedy,” I pushed out in a whisper,trying to get past his look.“ButOuiserand Claireeare about to rip the lid off, sugar.You just haven’t gotten to that part yet.”
“Do you have a momma who loves you?”he asked abruptly.
I pressed my lips together.
He watched.
Then he bit out, “Right.”His gaze went from my lips to myeyes.“A daddy?”
“Marcus—”
Just at me saying his name, he got me.
That’s why he interrupted me and went on.
“Brothers?”
I shook my head.
“Sisters?”
I bit my lip.
“Right,” he repeated softly.
“Can we watch the movie?”I whispered.
In response, immediately, he sat next to me.He alsostretched out his legs, crossed his ankles, and put his arm around me, pullingme into his side.
As I was curled into the corner of the sofa, my legs underme, my plate gone, my champagne in my hand, I wasn’t able to do anything butteeter more fully into him so he had all my weight.
I tried to pull away.
I stopped when he announced, “You move, Daisy, this once,right now, watching this fucking movie, I won’t let you.”
Well, that was clear enough.
“Roger that,” I muttered.
“Settle,” he growled.
Oh boy.
