Chapter 19 #2
Imanio hurried down the stairs like he’d heard the commotion from across the house.
I couldn’t even focus on the man who’d walked through the door; my attention was locked on him.
Imanio was shirtless, glistening in sweat like he’d just boxed a demon or bench-pressed a Range Rover for fun.
My brain short-circuited trying to figure out what he’d been doing that left him looking that fine and that unfair.
“You good?” he asked, interrupting my lewd thoughts, his voice low and calm like every piece of him wasn’t carved to perfection.
I nodded, but my mouth clearly had other plans.
“Y-Yes! S-S-Sweaty Samson, split my soul, please!”
His brows furrowed; mine damn near vanished into my scalp.
Why? Why did I say that?
My face burned.
I gripped the apple tighter like it was a stress ball sent from God.
“Focus, Naji,” Imanio said with that same amused smirk, like he’d caught my brain trying to jump ship. “And we’ll talk about this nigga Samson later.”
I cleared my throat and mentally slapped myself, then forced my eyes upward—to the ceiling, the light fixture, the heavens, anything but his damn abs—or his arms—or the one little drop of sweat trailing down his chest like it had a destination.
Imanio’s attention shifted to the guy at the door.
“Pops… I didn’t know you were coming over.”
“Well, I told you once I got back from my trip that I’d stop by. Maybe I should’ve called.”
“W-W-We’re married!” I blurted by accident.
Silence.
I slapped a hand over my mouth, eyes wide, but the tic had already done its damage. My heart slammed in my chest like it was trying to run from the moment.
“S-sorry,” I mumbled behind my fingers.
Imanio’s father slowly looked between us, one brow raised high.
“Married?”
Imanio exhaled through his nose, rubbing his jaw like he wasn’t angry but was still a bit annoyed that the truth had come out like that .
“Pops, this is my wife, Naji.”
Imanio’s father stared at him, then at me, then back at him.
“Well,” his father shook his head, clearly intrigued now. “This just got interesting.”
“Yeah,” Imanio replied calmly. “It’s a long story.”
“Well, good thing I have time today. Let’s go talk in private, son.”
“Aight. Give me a minute.”
“I’m… I’m sorry,” I apologized to Imanio after his father was out of earshot.
“Naji, stop apologizing. It’s cool. I know you can’t help it… unless you faking.”
It was clear Imanio wasn’t letting up about me faking that one tic, his eyes holding me like he was still measuring the truth.
“But go to the room,” he added finally, voice firm but not unkind. “I need to talk to my pops. I’ll come talk to you after, aight?”
I nodded and stepped into the hallway like I was following instructions. But instead of walking far, I lingered just out of view—right by the wall, around the corner, where their voices could drift to me like secondhand smoke.
A few seconds passed, then I heard his father speak again. His tone was sharp but layered with confusion.
“Married, Imanio? When was I going to get the memo? Or is she just someone you married to piss your mother off?”
I bit back a laugh, my hand covering my mouth.
“Nah,” Imanio responded with a smirk I could hear . “But it’ll probably do that too.”
His father let out a dry chuckle. “Well, what’s really going on?”
There was a pause, then Imanio started talking—and that time he didn’t hold back. I could hear every word, each one dropping heavier than the last. It wasn’t the full breakdown, but it was enough to finally make sense of all the madness I’d been thrown into.
“Whoa, son. This… this is a lot.”
“I know,” Imanio replied. His voice dropped, lower now, more serious. “But I need you to understand that she’s been through a lot. And I’m not gonna hurt her; I’m protecting her. That’s it.”
His father exhaled, the sound heavy.
“I’m not here to judge. If this is what you feel is best, then you know I have your back one hundred percent. Now your mother… that’s another story.”
First, it was Imanio, then Dessign, now the father. How bad is she really? Like , what kind of woman makes three different people brace themselves just to mention her name? I wondered; my grip tightening slightly on the apple.
“Actually,” his father went on, “this may be a good thing for you, son. You’re thirty-five, Imanio. It’s time you settle down. And Lord knows, every man of our caliber needs an heir or heiress at least. And from the looks of it, you and her will have some beautiful babies.”
Babies?
Me and Imanio?
Nah.
I couldn’t see it happening—at least not in real life. But in my mind? I did picture a baby girl with thick curls and a tiny attitude… or a sleepy-eyed little boy with too much hair and his father’s grumpy stare.
His father continued. “She's gorgeous; got those soft eyes and strong features… the kind that doesn’t fade. And y’all have chemistry, too. I saw it—even in that awkward moment.”
Imanio sounded like he was rubbing his hands down his face.
“Maybe you’re right, Pops. But I don’t know how that shit’s supposed to happen with me and her. She still flinches sometimes when she sees me.”
There was silence.
Then his father asked, “So even though this isn’t real… you haven’t stepped out on her, have you?”
I held my breath, my heart thudding in my ears—I was waiting to hear that answer.
“Nah,” Imanio answered.
“ Nah, as in not yet? Or you plan to?” his father pressed.
Another pause.
“I don’t plan to,” Imanio cleared up, his tone tight. “I can’t lie, though; this shit is driving me crazy going without pussy this long.”
My mouth dropped open slightly, a tic threatening to leap out. But then, his next words stopped it cold.
“But I ain’t touched nobody else 'cause—real or not—she’s mine.
And I don’t do mine dirty. I made a commitment, even if it was under wild-ass circumstances.
So nah, I haven’t talked to, flirted with, or had sex with any other female since getting with her.
If I’m gonna break, it’s gon’ be with her, not behind her back. ”
I stayed frozen in place, barely breathing, barely blinking.
He sees me. He wants to protect me… maybe even loves me.
His dad let out a slow whistle, clearly surprised.
“Well,” he said with a chuckle. “Now I gotta re-evaluate if you’re really my son. That almost sounded like romance.”
Imanio grumbled, “Man, stop.”
His father laughed louder. “No, seriously. Who knew the Grim Reaper of Real Estate had feelings? All this time, I thought you were emotionally constipated.”
I had to bite my lip to keep from giggling—and to keep from making noise. But deep down, behind the nerves and uncertainty, I felt a small spark of something unfamiliar but warm. I wasn’t na?ve. I knew words could be hollow, but his didn’t sound like empty promises; they sounded… honest.
Hearing enough, I stepped away quietly from the hallway wall, pretending I hadn’t heard anything.
With the apple still in my hand, I walked back toward the bedroom—my footsteps light, my thoughts loud.
And for the first time since all of that started, I didn’t feel like a prisoner in that house; I felt wanted .