39. Theory
I wasn't ready. Despite what my therapist and my granny said, despite what I had told myself, I wasn't ready to face a room full of people who weren't related to me after the way Chauncey had thrown mud on my name. I knew a lot of them had judged me, blamed me for ruining his life. I scoffed at that. I mean, I ruined his life, but I was the one standing here on the verge of bawling my eyes out because I didn't want to go to my high school reunion? Ha!
"Theory, it's gon' be just fine," my sister's voice washed over me as I held tight to one of the gray stone pillars on the back porch.
"Pip, I can't do this," I whispered.
She walked over and covered my hands, but even the beautiful energy I always felt from her wasn't enough.
"It's time, baby. You been hiding that pretty face like you did something wrong. Worried about what small-minded, jealous-hearted jackasses say. No more. You're a survivor, Theory. Let them see that shit," she said softly.
"Epiphany—"
She rubbed my hands, cutting me off.
"Breathe with me for a minute. I want you to clear your head of everything except how you're going to walk in there and your light is going to blind some of those mothafuckas. I need you calm, because the scariest thing isn't walking into that room," she said.
My eyes snapped to hers, my heart falling a little.
"What is it?"
"Facing Emory if you mess up your makeup," she teased, gifting me with one of her gorgeous smiles.
My lips curved a little at the thought. Regular Emory was a lot to handle. Pregnant Emory with a husband like Prime was impossible.
"Come on. Three counts in through your nose, six counts out through your mouth. Close your eyes and breathe."
My lids fluttered shut as I took the first cleansing breath, enjoying the sweet scent of the honeysuckle that grew all over my grandparents' property. Around the sixth breath, something new tickled my nose, something warm and a little spicy. My heart raced as every nerve ending that I had tingled. I opened my eyes and looked up into Targen's. Pip's ass had disappeared on me, leaving the man who had so readily staked his claim.
"Hey," he said. "Better now?"
Wordlessly, I nodded. He looked so good to me in his white t-shirt and gray joggers-- oh, God that print definitely goes with his size . He was never going to be able to fit all of that inside me. Wait, what? I shook my head, trying to get back on track. Because why was I even thinking that, and why was my silly ass pussy jumping like she was up to the challenge? Targen just smiled slightly, like he knew what I was thinking. I was still holding on to the stone pillar and he reached for one of my hands. He paused, his hand hovering.
"Can I?"
I nodded again. Where the hell were my words? You'd think I'd never seen a fine nigga before. Hell, I'd fucked a couple. But neither of them made me feel like Targen did with the most innocent of touches. He grabbed my hand and pulled gently. I moved until I stood in front of him, and he clasped my other hand. My breath was suspended as I waited for him to pull me against his hard body. Instead, he just looked at me. My dress was simple, a cream shade with a strapless bodice that featured a cut-out that highlighted my breasts. The skirt was a short A-line that swished around my thighs. Targen looked for so long that I almost felt self-conscious. I reached to pull on one of my coils, a nervous habit, then remembered that Hyacinth had styled my hair into a cute little updo.
"Fuck, Theory," he finally said. "You look so good to a nigga."
I felt my face warm, and a smile tugged at my lips.
"Thank you."
He dropped one of my hands to twirl me around by the other. He stepped closer, until I felt him directly behind me. I sucked in another breath, just reveling in the scent and heat of him. He leaned forward, bringing his mouth close to my ear.
"Can I?" he whispered, his breath warm against my skin.
"Targen," I murmured. "You're supposed to be saying, 'May I.'"
I don't know why I said that random shit. This man had my usually impressive vocabulary MIA. He just laughed, a low rumble that tickled my ear.
"Okay, Theory... May I?"
Of course, I nodded. A second later, I felt the soft brush of his lips against my nape. My knees almost gave out. How did he know that was my spot? The tingling sensation I'd felt intensified as my pussy thumped in an erratic rhythm.
"Your lips feel soooo good."
Oh, God! I said that out loud. It had been so long and I just— damn , Theory, get it together! The embarrassment had me trying to step away, head into the house. A solid arm encircled me, and Targen finally brought the front of his body flush against the back of mine. Lord! He felt so good... too good. And then he gave me another butterfly kiss. I was glad he was there to hold me up.
"I'm glad you like the way they feel. You gon’ like the way they feel everywhere," he growled.
I couldn’t stop the little gasp that escaped me, but then I shook my head.
“Targen… we… this…” I struggled for the right words as his lips grazed my shoulder.
“What, milaya ?”
I froze and whirled on his ass. He might be a big mothafucka, but he would not disrespect me.
“Uh-uh! Did you just call me another bitch’s name?” I demanded, trying to move away from the arms that encircled me.
He smiled down at me. “Nah, baby. Ain’t no other women now, Theory.”
I opened my mouth then closed it. That happened a few times as I dealt with the shock of his words and the heated sincerity in his gray eyes. Finally, I shook my head.
“No. It doesn’t make sense. We just met. We don’t even know each other.”
I strung together syllables, trying to deny what was happening, trying to dismiss the power of what I was feeling. This wasn’t some simple attraction. It didn’t feel like anything I’d ever experienced before. Being here with him felt like… felt like finally being home . No matter where I had run after the incident that changed my life, nowhere had felt like home anymore. Not even Emancipation. Not until now.
“We’re going to get to know each other, baby. Very well,” he promised, his voice rough. “All that you saying… tell me what you feeling . I know you feel this, Theory. I know it’s not just me. Tell me.”
Speechless, I shook my head. It was too soon. Too soon after we met. Too soon after what I’d been through. Too soon for my heart. I buried my face against him, not ready to tell the truth.
“This can't be real," I insisted. "I?—"
"How is it not real when we both feel this shit?"
He brushed his lips against my temple. My hands clenched in his t-shirt, and I sucked in a shaky breath. Touching his upper body’s solid, ripped planes had goosebumps dotting my skin.
"Feel what?" I whispered.
He laughed, low and soft. "You know, Theory."
"What do I know, Targen?"
He tilted my chin, made me meet his eyes as he lowered his mouth until I could feel the warmth of his minty breath against my lips.
"You know you gon’ be mine, milaya ."
His lips came closer, but I turned my head in the millisecond before they touched mine. His kiss landed against my cheek. He just chuckled as he kissed my jawline and my neck. I bit back a moan.
"What does that word mean? That word you keep calling me," I asked, pushing my face against his shirt again.
His arms tightened around me and it took him a minute to answer.
"It's something my sneaky ass father calls my mama. I can't stand the nigga, but he loves her," he explained.
"But what does it mean?" I pressed, tilting my head way back.
He looked down at me, his thumb stroking my chin.
"It means you are so valuable to me, so precious, my darling one, baby."
My heart seemed to stop for a minute as I inhaled sharply at his words. When it picked up its beat, it was all over the damn place.
Whew, somebody better come get this man! I prayed. Thankfully, God was still in the prayer-answering business because Calanthe came out of the house right then.
"Em said come on. Y'all about to leave," she announced as I moved Targen's arm.
I speed-walked into the house, meeting my family in the living room. Em took one look at me and frowned.
"What's wrong with you? Face just as red... never mind."
She looked over my shoulder just as I heard Targen's unhurried steps behind me. I blushed even harder. Pip smirked but didn't say anything.
"Where's Everly?" I asked, desperate to change the subject.
"Chyle, that's the question on everybody's mind. Probably got delayed," Em said dryly, glaring at Real.
He looked unbothered, lounging on the baby blue couch and sipping from a bottle of water.
"Don't start, baby," Prime said.
He wrapped an arm around her as he dropped a kiss on her forehead.
"Fine. I won't," she muttered. "Everly! You about to get left!"
"Girl, y'all ain't going nowhere without me. I?—"
She kept talking, but I don't think anyone was paying her any attention.
Our eyes had moved to Real, who had stood from his seat when she strolled in. He was looking at her like the sun shined from her. Ev was always beautiful, but she did look particularly gorgeous. She wore a shimmery cream jumpsuit that I loved. Made with golden threads woven throughout, it was sleeveless and wide-legged, with a deep v-neck that highlighted her generous cleavage. She wore it with thick gold hoops and a chunky gold bracelet. It was a sophisticated, sexy look. Her eyes were made up just enough to emphasize their size and tilt, not too much. It was her lips that brought the drama, covered in a deep red shade that popped against her flawless, matte foundation.
Real seemed stunned, his eyes and his expression confirming what we all already knew--something more was going on between them that Everly refused to acknowledge. Even Emory whispered a soft, "Oh," when she saw his face.
Everly finally stopped fussing and read the room. She looked at Real and a blush tinged her face even as she rolled her eyes at him.
"It's impolite to stare, Montréal," she popped, scowling.
Real smiled at her. "I never claimed to be polite, Love."