Soft girl era, princess shit, and she loved it.
“Rolani, chill,” she warned him like he always did her.
He shrugged because his favorite place was tangled in the sheets with her. If he could have her at work, he would; she just didn’t understand how different everything felt when being instrong likewas involved. He wasn’t ready to save love yet.
“And you hung my curtains. Baby, that’s so sexy.”
“Yeah, clock that shit.” He climbed down from the step stool. “Fixed some other stuff too. Your cabinet, that chair. Who is the maintenance man around this bitch?”
“I was getting to all that.” She walked over and took in the same flowers he had been lost in earlier. They looked perfect. “But thank you. Seriously.”
“I was here anyway.” He picked up the bags from the floor and kissed her on the forehead. “Can’t have my baby living with broke shit.”
“I’ve never met a man who keeps a whole toolbox in their truck.”
“Well, first, you ain’t never met a nigga like me. Second, you never know when you might need it, and I was just raised like that, baby.”
She studied him for a second. This man came prepared for everything. “You know you’re kind of perfect, right? Annoyingly perfect.”
“Nah.” He grinned. “But it sounds like I’m making you eat those words.”
“Just a little.” She moved past him toward the kitchen. “Now come help me cook.”
“Yes ma’am.” He followed her and crowded her space the way he knew she secretly liked. "What we cooking anyway?"
“I had a taste for pizza. With cookies for dessert. I had a nightmare of a day, so I plan to stress-bake. And cookies are my favorite thing.”
“Who do I gotta see about this terrible day?”
“Nobody.” She bumped his hip. “Just one of those days. Nothing serious. I’m pregnant, and my hormones are all over the place. I’m fine.”
“Aight, but say the word. You know I’m not playing about you.” He meant it. If she needed him to handle something, he would. No hesitation.
“I will.” She handed him a measuring cup. Her fingers brushed his. The touch was light but intentional. She was glad she called him. “You ever made cookies before?”
“Nah, but I wanna learn.”
“Okay, wash your hands, and I’ll teach you.” She watched him move to the sink and appreciated the way he moved through her space. “Fair warning, though. You mess up my sweet treat, I’m kicking your ass.”
“That’s how you doing it?”
“That’s exactly how I’m doing it.” Her smile took the edge off the threat.
They fell into an easy rhythm. He built the cookie batter at her direction while she built the homemade pizzas.
“Aye, I told Giovanni about us today.” He focused on scooping the cookie dough out the way she had shown him.
“Oh yeah?” She kept portioning out cookie rounds with perfect precision, but he could tell she was listening hard. “What did he say?”
“He was tight. But not about us, but about me not telling him sooner. Talking about we’ve been boys since we were eight, sharing juice boxes and stealing candy.” He laughed, remembering Giovanni’s face.
“Well, to be fair, we were trying to keep it a secret at first.” She stole a chocolate chip from the bowl and popped it in her mouth. “That lasted what, two days?”
“Shit, not even.” He shook his head and grinned at the memory. “Riya pulled that shit at the radio station, and my little Ken Doll turned into a Chucky Doll.”
“I wasn’t that bad.”
“You slammed your notebook on that glass like you were about to come through it.” He laughed. “That’s when I knew you were feeling me for real. I also knew you might be a little touched like me.”
