“Because you bout to be stepmoms, and Dad might listen to you because I’ve been tryna get a bigger one in there.”
She stopped messing with the pancakes, looked at him, and laughed.
I even laughed under my breath, and both of them looked over at me.
“Good morning, my luv,” Islah said.
“Morning, Wifey,” I said as I walked into the kitchen.
I walked over and dapped Amir up, then behind the island, I wrapped Islah in my arms, kissing her slowly while she smiled against my lips, trying to slide pancakes onto the plate.
“Bruhh!” Amir groaned dramatically behind us. “Y’all always kissing.”
I pulled away from Islah and looked over at him. “You just ain’t ever seen your dad love someone. Don’t worry, you gonna be like this over some lil’ girl one day.”
Islah laughed while Amir looked at me in disbelief.
“Nahhh, big dawg. I’m not goin’ out sad like you.”
Me and Islah both laughed.
“Out sad?” I repeated, shaking my head while walking around the island to take a seat next to him. “Lil’ nigga, this is what happiness looks like.”
Amir made a fake, disgusted face. “Eww.”
Breakfast moved easy, we passed plates around and cups of juice with small laughs in between bites.
Amir stayed talking most of it, and Islah answered him with that calm tone she had when she was focused but still listening. I stayed in my space, watching them create a bond that I would want my wife to have with my son, but I never knew my heart needed it for real.
They were my peace without even trying to be.
After eating, we moved like a unit without needing to say much. Plates got cleared, the kitchen was put back into order, then we each moved to our rooms to get dressed.
I showered with Islah, the water running steady while steam filled the bathroom and softened everything around us. No rush in her movement, no rush in mine. Just us in the shower, holding each other, like we had nowhere to be.
When we stepped out, with towels wrapped around us, I turned on some music while we got dressed and vibed with each other.
On the bed, my phone was still lighting up with calls and messages. I ignored them and gave Islah all my attention, not wanting her to worry about what was going on.
She was in front of the mirror, towel still wrapped around her, while she did her hair and makeup with a smile on her face. I put on my silk dress shirt and some dress pants, brushed my beard, and sprayed my cologne when I saw my phone light up again with a call, letting it go to voicemail.
“Why didn’t you pick it up?” Islah asked.
“Because this time with you is more important.”
She smiled and dropped her towel. I watch as she oiled up her body, slid into her matching bra and pantie set, some fitted jeans, and a crop top. She then sprayed some perfume and packed her scrubs into her Croc tote bag, along with some other things, before she stopped and looked at me.
“Why are you staring at me?”
“Because,” I said, walking over to her. “I’ma lucky ass man to have a lady like you.”
She kissed me while cuffing my face, the cold metal from her ring resting on my cheek.
“I love you,” she said softly.
“I’ma show you I love you more,” I said, gripping her ass. “More ways than one.”
Islah’s phone went off in her pocket. She slipped it out, looked at the screen, and back at me. “Shit, I’ma be late fooling around with you.”
