“Get up and see,” he said.
And because I hadn’t fully thought out my escape plan and maybe because I was slightly nosy, I got up and got ready.
Which explained how I came to be in this gorgeously decorated bridal shop with his cousins Monica and Sasha. He’d told me about them before, on one of those long nights at my grandparents’ farm when we just talked and vibed for hours. I knew they were like his sisters, that he loved them fiercely. They apparently felt the same way about him. Monica watched Sasha and barely gave me anything but a sparing glance. I knew she was indifferent about a lot of things, so I wasn’t taking her disinterest personally. Sasha, at least, tried. She was riffling through a display of wedding dresses, her hands flying through the tulle and lace, satin and silk, as she eyed them critically. I knew just from looking at her that her taste would be impeccable. She oozed sex appeal and confidence even at seven months pregnant. The way she stood, touched items, and gave anyone who was speaking to her, her full attention spoke to her self-assurance.
“You don’t look too excited to be marrying my cousin,” Monica finally said, an undercurrent of curiosity in her tone. Her dark eyes held more questions than she’d voiced, and I wondered what was going on in that head of hers. Targen said more than once that Monica watched people closely and listened to everything that wasn’t said.
I shrugged as my fingers traced the intricate beading on one exquisite piece. “I’m not sure what your cousin has told you, but things aren’t exactly unfolding the way I thought they would in my life.”
She laughed as her hands smoothed over her growing belly. She was pregnant too, probably as far along as Sasha. “I mean, having your life unfold with a young, rich nigga who would do anything to keep you and your people safe can’t be too bad, huh?”
“Monica!” Sasha called out. Her voice carried a bit of a warning, and I couldn’t help but wonder what Sasha was trying to stop. “Behave.”
Monica’s shoulders lifted nonchalantly. “I'm just saying they could do worse than each other. Targen doesn’t do meek.” She turned her attention to me and gave me a smile that didn’t meet her eyes. “I don’t know you, but you give me weak.”
I rolled my eyes. “That’s right; you don’t know anything about me, Monica.”
“I know Targen, though,” she asserted. “He will think of a million ways for you to love him while someone like you will find a trillion reasons not to. And he might think that eye-rolling shit is cute, but I’ll?—”
“Monica!” Sasha interrupted what had undoubtedly been a threat, the way Monica’s hand had moved toward her back. Targen had laughed when he described her as always on go but said she’d calmed down since getting married, having a kid, and getting pregnant again. Apparently, he was wrong.
“I’m not going to shoot her ass,” Monica laughed as she adjusted the pillow stationed behind her. She looked at me and smirked. “You don’t have to act tough around us.”
“I’m not acting,” I replied, and the cousins shared a look that said they didn’t believe me. “I can hold my own with both of you. I was raised around women like you.”
“No, you weren’t,” Sasha said as she continued to look through the dresses. “You were raised by a family, by people that love you, not that look at you like a profit.” She turned to face me, crossed her arms, and let her dark eyes take me in. Her look screamed of pain, trauma, and death. “I was raised to fuck and Monica?” She lifted her perfectly arched brow and pointed to Monica. “She was raised to kill.” Sasha dropped her hand and gave me that sad smile again. “We were lucky enough to find men to love us. The good, bad, ugly, pain, and everything that we don’t like to mention. You have scars, sweetie, seen and usually unseen, I’m sure. We see them.”
“Whatever Targen told you-”
“He didn’t tell us shit but that he loves you,” Monica interrupted me.
My eyes widened at her use of the word “love,” but she continued before I could question that.
“Targen wouldn’t break the bond y’all have developed like that and tell us anything. And honestly, we don't want to know. Because if it paints you in a bad light, then, I wouldn’t be Monica, and she wouldn’t be Sasha.”
“Who would you be?” I couldn’t help asking.
“I’d be the Madam and she’d be Trenches,” Sasha answered with a laugh.
I studied her, wondering what she was getting at. “Which means?” I pressed.
Targen said that his cousins had a checkered past, but I didn’t know exactly what that meant. Sasha referring to herself as a madam had my interest piqued.
“That we aren’t what you think we are,” Monica said, a small smile curving her lips. “I’m going to say this and then y’all can go back to looking for a dress so we can leave. Theory, you were raised in love, and yes, we know the situation with Targen isn’t ideal, but he is trying. He has extended himself to you in away that he has never done before. Don’t take his kindness for weakness or his heart for granted.”
“Or I’ll have to deal with the Madam and Trenches?” I mocked because her words hit me in a way that caused me to feel a grudging respect for her. I couldn’t afford to like them. Even though I found myself weirdly enjoying their company, I was still on a mission here and needed them to stay at a distance. I talked shit, but I could see Monica and Sasha hanging out with my family and actually getting along. They were blunt, but the love they had for each other and Targen was obvious.
Sasha and Monica shared another look and started to laugh.
“Girl, you wouldn’t last a second in our world. Remember that,” Monica replied and shook her head. “It's obvious that this shit scares you, and compared to what we’ve dealt with, it looks like heaven.”
“I’m not scared-”
“You’re terrified,” Sasha challenged, shaking her head. “It’s obvious.” She looked over the rack of dresses and smiled. “It’s okay, though, because we’ve been where you are. It only stops being scary when you marry him.”
“You haven’t married yours, yet,” Monica said.
Sasha shrugged. “I plan on it, though.” She tapped her hand against a pretty dress and smirked. “She’s fighting the inevitable, while I’m preparing for it.”
