“Thank you for not giving up on me,” she said softly.
I kissed her. “Come on, let’s get to our party.”
We walked out, and the driver took us back to my land, and when we got there, both of our mouths dropped.
“Man, Kenya and them need to open a design business or some shit,” I expressed.
They had changed everything from before. The tables that were sitting in the grass were brought up on the concrete and put to one side. They created a dance floor and had more lights and candles all around.
We hopped out, and Amir ran up to us. “Dad, Islah, it’s lit out here!”
He pulled us up the foundation, and the gang was pulling up.
My niggas, Katie, and some of my family walked up to us and showed me and Islah love, giving hugs, dropping off money, weed, bottles, and other gifts.
The DJ played our song and hopped on the mic.
“Iight, y’all move outta the way, let Mr. and Mrs. Mayer take to the floor.
Everybody cleared the way, getting settled at their tables or standing in line to get food. I didn’t care tho’, the dance was for us.
I held Islah close in my arms as we danced around in circles. I gave her soft kisses on her neck in between us talking about nothing special.
Her smile never left her face. In fact, I think it got bigger as the night went on.
Once the song was over, I had Islah take a seat, and I went to fix our plates while talking to a few people in passing.
It’s crazy how my people never thought I would get married and always thought I’d be the nigga that kept bitches in rotation.
I laughed them off as I walked back to the table.
“When you meet the right one,” I yelled out, “they change everything.”
We ate together while people came by to speak to us, when I had a thought.
“Fuck,” I yelled out. “I forgot a damn cake.”
“It’s okay, baby, you did a lot. Missing a cake is okay.”
Deja stood up. “Y’all are not missing a cake.”
Me and Islah looked confused.
Deja walked away from the table and over to the caterers for a second, and walked back over to us.
“We got y’all a cake,” she said.
We looked back at the caterers and saw them bringing out a two-story cream-colored cake with Mr. and Mrs. Mayer on top.
The cake was classy and elegant. Something I knew Islah had to have told them that she liked or was in that damn binder she had.
Islah stood up from the table, walked around, hugged Deja, and called Kenya and Renee over for a hug.
“Thank y’all so much,” she said to them. “Y’all are amazing friends—fuck that, y’all are the sisters I never knew I needed.”
“Same here!” Kenya said. “This bond we have is everlasting. I love y’all girls.”
The way the rest of the night went, it was nothing that I could have planned. We partied hard.
