“You hungry?” she asked from behind me.
I sniffed the air. “You made chicken?”
She didn’t answer, but I heard a smile in her voice. “Maybe.”
I followed her into the kitchen and leaned against the wall. “I can’t eat that,” I said as I tried to sound serious. “I’m vegan now.”
She turned around and stared at me with her eyes low. “Nigga, you never giving chicken up,” she said flatly. “Stop playing.”
I laughed. She turned and continued toward the stove. When she reached it, she lifted the lid off a pot. Steam rose into the air, and the smell carried throughout the room. My stomach growled immediately.
“You look tired,” she said without turning around.
I stepped further into the kitchen and sat on a stool at the island. “Yeah, I’ve been thinking a lot,” I answered.
She glanced over her shoulder at me. “Uh-oh. That sounds scary.”
I leaned my elbows on the counter and stared at the back of her head.
“Nah,” I said quietly. “Not this time.”
She turned the stove down and wiped her hands on a towel that hung on the handle of the stove before she walked back toward me. “You sure?” she asked as she stood on the side of me. “Because every time you say that, it means some drama goin’ on.”
I reached for her hand gently and pulled her down on the stool next to me.“I turned something big down.”
“Turned what down?”
“A tour.”
She drew her head back with her eyebrows raised. “A tour? Why?”
“Because I don’t want to keep building a life that pulls me away from the one I actually want,” I replied.
Her brows lowered, and her gaze softened.
“I don’t need to be the biggest in the game anymore,” I continued. “I want to build something steady. I started my own label, and I want to mentor artists in Detroit. I have brand deals that will bring in more income so I don’t have to disappear for months.”
“You’d be great on that stage though,” she said quietly.
“I know.”
There was a silence that stretched between us, but it wasn’t for long. I reached into my jacket pocket. “This ain’t nothing flashy,” I said. “So don’t expect all that.”
Her eyebrows pulled together immediately. “What are you doin?—”
“What?” I asked casually.
I pulled my hand from my pocket slowly and opened a small velour box. The ring caught the light before she even processed what she looked at. A large, brilliant-cut diamond sat in a thin band that curved dramatically around it. There wasn’t anything subtle or quiet about it. It was bright enough to reflect the kitchen light into her eyes.
Her mouth fell open. “Zay?—”
“I’m not perfect.” I cut her off, my voice steady but deep. “I don’t always get it right. I’ve hurt you. I’ve been immature. I’ve reacted when I should’ve responded.” Her eyes began to water. “But I love you,” I said clearly. She pressed her lips together to keep them from trembling. “I love you,” I repeated. “And I’m going to keep trying to get this right. I’m not gonna run from it anymore.” My voice cracked slightly. “I want you,” I said. “I choose you every time. It’s always been you.”
Tears slipped down her face. She remained seated on the stool as I stood and got down on one knee in front of her.
“Marry me, Princess Love Melendez,” I whispered.
She nodded before the words even came out of her mouth. “Yes.”
