The well-spoken type who showed me that Love wasn’t just a dad who popped in and out; he was a father who was showing his son how to be a man.
At one point during dinner, Love and I were smiling softly at each other. Even without words, the nigga still made me blush, and Amir caught it.
“So what I’ma be in the wedding? And Dad, you know my suit betta hit like yours!”
We both laughed.
“Your role, nigga? What do you mean?”
“I gotta have a role. I need a big entrance like y’all,” he said through bites of rice. “I can’t just be standin’ around, we are a fly family.”
Love pointed his fork at Amir. “See, that’s why I fuck with you, lil’ nigga. You already know presentation matters.”
Amir grinned hard. “Exactly! I can’t come in regular when my daddy is a Zone 6 legend.”
Amir and Love dapped each other up, and I laughed while shaking my head. “Oh shit, I am in for it with y’all two.”
“Three,” Love said calmly. “Cause once we’re married, it’s gonna be another Love Jr. Around this bitch.”
I rolled my eyes, trying not to smile too hard while Amir laughed.
“So again, what is my role?” Amir asked again. “Carrying rings is for babies, a lil’ cousin can do that. I don’t want no weak role.”
Love leaned back in his chair like he was considering what his son was saying.
“You might have to walk me down the aisle.”
Amir’s eyes lit up instantly. “For real?!”
“Yeah,” Love responded. “You are my right hand, and I—we want your blessing and for you to feel included.”
Love looked at me, and I nodded, agreeing.
Amir sat up straighter at the table like he had just been promoted to CEO.
“I can do that!” he said seriously. “But I want to be in all black, with a gold iced-out chain.”
We laughed, and Love agreed, then they shook on it.
Dinner kept going after that, easy and smooth. The type of dinner that made everything outside the house nonexistent.
At one point, Amir started telling me stories about his teachers and his friends at school. He told me how he was doing in basketball and asked if I would be coming to his games. Love sat there watching us talk, trying to hide his smile, but it was hard for him.
Every time I laughed at something Amir said, gave him some more food when he asked for it, or made sure he had juice in his cup, Love’s eyes got softer and softer.
Like seeing me around his son did something to him mentally.
And honestly?
Seeing him be a father did something to me.
Not the street nigga, not the jeweler, not the man everybody knew not to play with.
Just him, in his beater and sweats, being a dad.
After dinner, Amir helped me clear the table while Love cleaned the kitchen behind us.
“After the day I had at work, I was thinking about a lot of things,” I said, looking at Love. “This dinner made everything worth it.”
