She was still at work.
“When we gonna move in, Dad?” Amir asked.
I took a deep breath. “I don’t know. I don’t know if I want to have the house fixed and shit and let her just walk in ready to live in it, or if I want to keep it blank like it is now and let her do her big one.”
Keith and Ricky nodded.
“Shit, nigga,” Ricky started. “You have to be doing it big already, keep it up.”
I nodded, taking in what he said.
“Me and Amir have to make some moves. We will holla at y’all later.”
We walked outta the house, and I locked it up. Me and my son and my niggas went our separate ways.
We spent the rest of the day picking out shit for the house, furniture for our room, and some shit that Amir wanted to add. After that, we went and copped some clothes to be delivered to the house. I damn near wanted Islah’s closet packed with all the handbags and outfits that she could dream of. I had the diamonds on deck for her.
Once me and Amir dropped the shit off at the house, I went and copped some flowers, and we headed home to find my wifey fixing dinner.
Amir ran over to her and told her about the suit fitting and how he looked in it. I handed her the flowers and looked deep in her eyes.
“What’s wrong, baby?” she asked me.
I licked my lips and shook my head at her.
“Nothing, baby.”
The truth was, she looked like she was glowing, a lil’ more than normal.
I loved that for her.
Chapter 16
Senses
My house was chill for the most part for a Saturday morning. Amir and Love had just gotten back from his basketball practice while I had the living room covered in wedding binders and notebooks.
I was trying to organize my whole life in color-coded sections. Emails were coming to my phone. Texts from my girls about the DJ and bartender. I was calling venues, giving them the date for five months away.
The next thing I was working on was the seating chart, while the girls sent me ideas for the reception. Things that I thought would feel fun started to feel like too much at once.
I kept flipping through pages, making sure I had all the names and putting people where I wanted them to go.
I decided to take a break from that and moved on to looking at my hairstyle options and pictures of the dresses I wanted to try on at my fitting.
I thought that might ease the stress I was feeling, but it just added more.
My chest started feeling tight, but I ignored it at first. I carried a notebook with me to the kitchen and laid it on the island while I got myself some water.
I stood at the counter, looking at the same pictures in my notebook and rereading the same text line twice, then a third time, like it would change if I stared at it long enough, but it didn’t. I then let out a deep breath, feeling like all my thoughts were stacking on top of each other.
The wedding.
The timeline.
The expectations of what I wanted.
My legs started to feel weak. I slowly made my way to the barstool and took a seat.
