Page 11 of Surrender to Love

My hand cups her chin and I lift her pretty, slightly slanted eyes back to mine. “You can have both but you need to tell me what’s up.”

“We don’t do that.”

“Now we do,” I say and her eyebrows tent again.

“Because you came when I drunk texted and called you?”

“Yeah and because I know how you really feel about me.”

“And how do I feel?”

“Man, cut the shit, Kyrah. You feel just like I feel about you. Who else are you fucking?”

“That doesn’t me—” she says but I cut her off.

“Who else are you fucking besides me? What other nigga you call at almost midnight to come get you? What other nigga you have up in this bitch, in this bed? And what other nigga gets to hold you like this?” I fire off.

It would be real easy for me to just tell her that she told me she loves me but I’m not. When she admits it again, I need her sober and knowing exactly what she’s saying. As much as intoxication reveals the truth, I need to hear it in real time when she’s looking at me.

“Shiro,” she sighs.

“Yeah. What’s your answer?”

While shaking her head, she says, “You.”

“A’ight then. Take your shower, get your tea, then you are going to tell me what has you getting fucked up on that kiddie shit.”

“What about the shop? You have to open today?”

While glancing at the large, backless, frameless clock on the wall, I tell her, “The shop opened over an hour ago. I’m not going in today because you needed me.”

“But who opened? Who’s going to take your place? Tre can’t work on cars,” she says, knowing how important Saturdays are for me and my business. The concern in her voice alone just reinforces how she truly feels. She cares about and loves me; she just needs to realize her feelings and stop fronting.

“I took care of all of that so I can take care of you.”

“I feel bad.”

“Don’t. Let’s just shower so we can talk,” I say, then lightly pat her ass. “Can we do that?”

“We can. I have something you can put on. You left shorts and a shirt when you sprayed that termite stuff around the house.” She moves again, and this time, I release my hold on her. When she eases off her bed, she wobbles a little. “I really did too much last night. Did I throw up? God, I hope not.”

“Nah, but you snored.” And told me you loved me.

“Stop lying. I don’t snore.”

“Man, like a damn eighteen-wheeler. Kept my ass up all night,” I tease and she blesses me with her pretty ass smile and that tiny little dimple on her right cheek appears. It only pops out when she’s really happy or finds something extra funny. I love it though.

“I refuse to believe that,” she says, then reaches out for me.

“You need me to hold your hand? You still drunk?”

“No. I want you to hold my hand because I’m glad you came for me.”

At her words, I take her hand and get off the bed. When my feet land on the soft ass rug that her bed centers, I pull her into me. “I will always come for you,” I tell her then lean in. Her hand flies to cover her mouth.

“Mmhmm. Slice H2O and sushi. That’s a hell no,” she mumbles through her hand.

“I smelled that shit all night,” I say, then kiss her forehead instead. “I’ll let you handle that hot breath first. Then I’m kissing you.”