Chapter 28 #2
She snapped her head toward him. “What?”
“I’m gonna buy it,” he repeated, like it was that easy…like he was talking about picking up groceries. “You want Green’s Driving Range to be bigger and better…watch me work. I told you I’d give you your dreams tenfold…let me.”
Her throat tightened. “Zaire…”
“Nah,” he shook his head, his gaze still staring through the window.
“You told me what this place means to you. You told me what you see when you look at that land. I’m not just gon’ stand next to you.
I’m gon’ build with you. Camps, tournaments…
all that glamping shit you keep talkin’ about.
We’ll create a whole Black golf heaven right there between them trees.
” He glanced at her. “That’s what you want, right? ”
Her eyes blurred before she could stop them. “You remember what I said?”
“I hear you even when you think I’m not listenin’,” he mused. “Tell me again. What you want, Meadow? For the range…for life…for love…all of it.”
She sat with that for a second, looking out at the land that raised her, then back at the man sitting so close she could feel his heat under her skin.
“I want to teach Black kids how to play golf,” she said.
“Not just the ones who can afford lessons, but kids whose Mamas got three jobs and still find a way to bring them out on Saturdays. I want Black women to swing clubs too, not just watch from the sidelines while everybody else gets access. I want my land to host tournaments and summer camps and glamping with twinkle lights in the trees and grills going and music playing. I want this land to work for me instead of killin’ me. ”
He puffed his blunt, his eyes on her intently.
Her voice wobbled, but she kept going. “I want my Mama to have more good days on this land. I want my Daddy to sit on that porch and feel proud instead of being scared the bank gon’ take everything he built.
I want…a life that ain’t just bills and emergencies and tryin’ to keep everybody alive.
I want joy out here again. Black joy…kids laughing, women laughing… you laughing.”
His eyes twinkled. Meadow was his version of Mona Lisa…rare, beautiful, un-fuck-with-able.
She dragged in another breath. “And love…I want love that lets me rest. I want a man who knows how heavy I carry shit and don’t make me carry it and pretend it’s light.
Somebody who’ll stand next to me when it’s time to talk big shit to these banks and these White folks, and then turn around and hold me when I lay down at night like I ain’t gotta prove I’m strong no more. ”
Her eyes met his. “That’s what I want. What about you, Mr. Cooks?”
Zaire didn’t rush to fill the space. He just watched her like she’d handed him her whole chest and trusted him not to drop it.
“You already know what I want for the range,” he finally said.
“I want to make it bigger than they ever thought it could be. I want to see little Black kids out there with clubs swingin’ ugly at first, then nice as hell by the end of the summer.
I want folks to pull up from everywhere just to step on what you and your family built…
what we built.” He paused. “I want your name on contracts, on billboards, on them big-ass trophies they hand out…”
Her eyes glossed.
He shifted closer, his knee knocking hers.
“For life…I want to wake up and know I ain’t runnin’ no more…
not from Crescent, not from my past, not from my own head.
I want to play this game because I love it again, not because I’m scared of what happens if I stop.
I want us to be able to be in L.A. or Juniper or wherever and it still feel like home ‘cause you there.”
Zaire kissed her, smoke coming out his nose, she sucked it in.
“For love…I want this. You…Us…the way we already move without even meanin’ to.
I want babies with your eyes runnin’ up and down that range.
I want little curls and little waves and little hands grabbin’ my face callin’ me Daddy while you in the kitchen yellin’ at both of us for trackin’ dirt in the house.
” He laughed under his breath. “I want to argue-with-you-soft, not lose-you-hard. I want to love you loud and quiet. All of that shit…I want to make your wildest dreams come true and leave the world wondering how Black women do it.”
Tears slipped out the corner of her eyes before she could catch them. She tried to wipe them but he caught her wrist gently.
“Don’t hide that from me,” he corrected. “I like knowin’ you feel this shit too.”
Meadow sniffed, annoyed at herself and undone at the same time.
“I want you to have peace, Zaire, real peace…not moments. A life that don’t chew you up every time you stand in front of a camera.
I want to be the one place you don’t have to fight.
” Her faith thickened her voice. “When the league play with you, I will fight the battles you can’t.
When they lie on your name, I’ll be in they face.
You don’t ever have to stand in front of rooms full of people who don’t love you and defend yourself alone again. You got me now.”
She laid her palm flat on his chest, feeling his heart pound steadily under her fingers.
“I want your babies. I want to see you on that porch with your son and your daughters teaching them how to hold a club and how to hold their heads high. I want to be the one who stands up next to you when the world acts like you don’t belong, and I want them to know…
you belong to me and anywhere you wanna be. ”
His eyes closed for a beat like the words hurt and healed at the same time.
“This us, Zaire,” Meadow whispered. “All the way. I ain’t never asked nobody for forever before. But I want that with you, truly and wholly, even if I never planned on loving you this deep.”
He opened his eyes and looked at her like she was the only thing that had ever made sense. “I told you…you my Marai, my Black Cinderella. But it ain’t just you, it’s us. You the land, I’m the storm, and together we done made somethin’ grow out here that ain’t nobody gon’ be able to pull up.”
Her tears came harder then, not from pain but from relief. From finally saying out loud what had been choking her for weeks.
Zaire slid his hand up the back of her neck, thumb brushing the edge of her jaw, and pulled her in until their foreheads touched. “Look at me,” he demanded softly.
She did.
“You got my heart,” he told her. “All of it. I ain’t never gave it to nobody before. I’m scared as hell, but I’m still here. I’m not goin’ nowhere unless you walk me out.”
A laugh broke through her tears. “You stuck anyway. My Daddy love you.”
“Good,” he smirked. “’Cause I love his daughter.”
Her breath caught at the same time his did.
They sat there in that thin air, above all the land and mess and history that made them, and let the truth settle between them.
This was it…this was them, not perfect, not soft around the edges, but real in a way neither of them ever got to have before.
The jet tilted gently, and Meadow’s fingers brushed his thigh as she steadied herself. It was innocent, but Zaire didn’t do innocent well. His hand rose without thought, cupping the back of her neck with slight force as his thumb stroked behind her ear.
He bit the corner of his lip, fighting a smile he didn’t win. “You tryna get fucked on this plane?”
Her head fell forward in a sputtering laugh. “Zaire, can you be serious for two minutes?”
“I am serious,” he whispered, leaning in. “You do a lot of shit that make me want you.”
She swallowed, pulse jumping.
“I brought you up here so you could see the peace you deserve,” she breathed. “The view…the quiet…the space to just be somebody’s dream for once instead of somebody’s work.”
His eyes softened in a way that made her stomach flip. “Say it again,” he said quietly.
“What…that you deserve peace?”
“No.” He traced her bottom lip with his thumb. “The part about bein’ somebody’s dream.”
Meadow drew a slow breath, both hands resting on his thighs, her fingers pressing into his warm muscle. “You are someone’s dream,” she whispered, “you’re mine.”
That broke him.
Not in a weak way…in the way men broke when they finally stopped running from hope.
He leaned in, kissing her with slow certainty, like he wasn’t in a rush and didn’t care if the plane never landed. Meadow lifted herself onto his lap, straddling him without hesitation, her hands framing his face while his palms anchored her hips.
Her breath brushed his mouth. “We can’t…we’re in the sky…”
He kissed her again, deeper. “Ain’t nobody up here but us, so welcome to the mile high club.”
The flight attendant had a small curtain pulled that separated them from her and the pilot was busy. The low sound of the playlist Meadow had curated for their date helped keep their flirting private.
The hum of the engine filled the space between their bodies…loud enough to feel, soft enough not to break the spell.
Meadow pulled back. “You remember what you called me?”
His fingers squeezed her hips. “Marai.”
“Do you know why that stuck?” she whispered.
“Nah, why?”
“Because Cinderella ain’t never been made for Black girls in the real world.
We scrub floors. We take care of everybody.
We lose pieces of ourselves just trying to keep a little bit of magic alive.
” Her voice trembled. “But you, Zaire…you show up for me…you make room for me… you hold me like I’m allowed to be wanted. ”
She smoothed lines across his thighs.
“And this?” She gestured around the jet. “This is me returning that energy. Pouring into you. So you know you’re wanted too. You’re not just Prince Charming, you’re the big bad wolf. The perfect fit glass slipper…my Northstar.”
Zaire brought her closer until her forehead touched his. His hands slid up her back.