Chapter 8 #2
He shook his head gently. “No, Roosevelt does. My father never wanted to take the business from him. Only ensure that it would always be his.”
I smiled at the thought just as a younger woman who couldn’t help but blush and steal glances at Kincaid approached us.
“We have your table ready, Mr. and Mrs. Akel.”
“Kincaid and Nari are fine.” His tone was light and her cheeks lifted higher from his attention.
“Yes, sir. Please follow me.”
Kincaid nodded and his hand lowered to the small of my back while we navigated through the maze of tables until we reached the corner in the back where ours was.
Our setup was a small, round wooden table topped with menus wedged between condiments and a tea light candle in a small glass enclosure.
There were only two weathered wooden chairs, but the spot was cozy and private compared to the rest of the establishment.
After my chair was pulled out and I was seated, Kincaid settled in across from me.
“I hope this works. We’re swamped tonight, and it’s all we have.”
“This is perfect. Thank you,” I offered, and she flashed a smile before taking our drink orders and hurrying away, stopping at several tables before disappearing in the back.
He picked up a menu and began a visual sweep until he felt me staring.
“What?”
“You’re different here. You were different with him,” I stated in reference to his mood tonight and his interaction with Roosevelt. I could tell the two were close and truly considered each other family.
“Different, how?” His brow lifted just a little, but his stare remained intense.
“I don’t know; less high class.”
Kincaid laughed under his breath and tossed his chin dismissively, delivering that sexy, cocky grin of his. “Maybe it’s because I’m not in a suit.”
“Nope, that’s not it.” I shook my head, smiling softly before I lifted my menu.
“Then what do you propose warrants this so-called change?”
“I don’t know. Maybe you feel at home here, like you can just be.”
He laughed again before his eyes found mine. “Or maybe I just want you to feel at home with me and I’m letting my guard down to allow you space to do so.”
“I feel at home with you, Kincaid.”
“Occasionally, but lately, things between us have been a bit disjointed.”
“True, but that doesn’t mean I don’t feel like I have a place with you or in your life. I’m simply trying to define what that means to me.”
“It means that whatever you want, need, or desire will be yours, even if it’s space from me while you work through things. It’s been brought to my attention that my pushing isn’t always the best way to get the results I seek.”
“Which are?”
“For you to trust me with all of you and to know there’s nothing in this world I wouldn’t give or do to ensure your happiness.”
His eyes were intense, but his declaration didn’t waver.
“It might not seem like it, but I believe you.”
“Good, then that’s all that matters. Would you like me to suggest something or would you rather decide on your own?”
Ahh, his way of giving me space.
This was new. Usually, he wouldn’t have asked. He simply would have offered his suggestion.
“You order. You know better than I do what’s good here.”
Kincaid nodded. “Everything here is good. It’s just a matter of what type of damage you’re looking to take on. As good as it tastes, I can’t guarantee it’s good for you.”
Dinner went smoothly. I learned that soul food was Roosevelt’s specialty by way of the fried chicken, mac and cheese, greens, and homemade cornbread we both had piled on our plates.
Our conversation was light while we demolished our dinner.
I updated Kincaid on the reception plans, to which he only nodded and offered a lot of mm-hmms before he discussed minor details of his business trip with me.
It felt encouraging to be in a good space with my husband.
I longed for the type of connection we shared tonight.
“You look happy.”
“I am.” One shoulder lifted into a shrug while Kincaid studied me closely.
“What can I do to ensure you stay that way?”
“How about you promise me that no matter how bad things get between us, you will never, and I mean never, sleep with my cousin.”
“I would have to assume you’re joking because there’s not a chance in hell that will ever happen.”
“I’m so not joking. Did she really proposition you?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Through social media not long after we returned from Tulum.”
I sat silently processing, wishing I had actually been able to put my foot in her ass. Apparently, she deserved it for more than one reason.
“Please do not let this be another issue between us.” Kincaid stared at me, waiting, and I decided to let it go. I honestly didn’t believe he had any interest in Shayla, the same as I also did not doubt in my mind that she actually extended the offer. Fucking bitch.
“I refuse to allow her any more space in my life.”
“Good, so can we get back to my initial question? What can I do to ensure that beautiful smile remains on your face?”
“Nothing. You do enough.”
He lifted his beer, taking down some, but his eyes lingered, still absorbing me. “Enough doesn’t exist where you’re concerned. You’re my responsibility, and that starts with making sure I’m not taking away any parts of you.”
“You’re not.”
“Not even your control? That seems to be a point of contention between us. Even your mother mentioned it.”
“She has?” That was news to me. I hoped she hadn’t overstepped.
“She has. We shared a brief conversation about my propensity to overlook your pending needs. And as much as I didn’t like being called out on my shit, I had to agree.
My need to give you the life I feel you deserve has left me a little singular in my understanding of what that might feel like from your perspective.
It seems I’ve been a bit selfish, and Endia made a point of bringing the issue to my attention. ”
“She shouldn’t have—”
“Your mother has every right to protect your best interest, even where I’m concerned.
I might not have appreciated how it felt for Endia to put me in my place, for lack of better phrasing, but I respect that she cares enough to step up for you, even if it meant going against me.
I’m not the most pliable with my expectations, which I’m sure you’ll agree.
” His tone was teasing, even if his expression was void of a smile.
“You have good intentions.”
“Agreed, but execution is sometimes far more important than intent. I don’t want you to feel like you’re just existing in my world.
It’s important that you feel you belong and on your terms. Unfortunately, there are some things I can’t bend on because there are measures in place to ensure your safety, but I also understand that you have to have a say in certain aspects of your life.
I’m willing to allow you space to find your footing and I’m also willing to trust you’ll make the best decisions for our family. ”
I was taken aback. This wasn’t exactly the confession I was expecting tonight, but I appreciated that he was, at the very least, attempting to understand things from my perspective. It was only right that I offered the same.
“You make it sound like I see this marriage as a nightmare. You’re not some abusive, controlling asshole who’s holding me hostage.”
A smile split onto his face. “I would hope not, but I do understand it was a lot of change in a short time. I simply expected you to adjust without truly allowing you time to do so.”
“And I promised to trust you without running every time I got scared or something didn’t feel right. I apologize. This part is new for me . . .” I paused, taking a moment to regroup. “The whole ‘having someone in my corner.’”
“Understood. All I ask is that you trust me. I belong to you and only you. I’m never going to lie to you and I damn sure won’t share any parts of me with another woman, ever.”
His gaze was stern, demanding, and leaving little room for me to question the validity of his affirmation. It was crystal clear. I’m yours, you’re mine. There is no question about our bond, nor is there room for anyone else to fit into the equation but us.
“As much as I know and believe that truth, it’s still not easy to be faced with your past—especially when that past is insistent on aggressively reminding me that they existed at one point or another. Even the most confident women allow their insecurities to get the best of them occasionally.”
He simply sat poised; his body relaxed, but his posture was just as confident as the intense stare that penetrated me for a long moment.
“I understand, and I will do my best to keep the past from landing in your lap, but in the event that something slips past me, promise we’ll talk about it before you jump to conclusions or forge assumptions that my dick gets hard for anyone but you, agreed?
” His eyes squinted just a bit before they issued a smile of reassurance.
Again, he was confident, his stance resolute.
I only want you, sweetheart! It was so clear that I could nearly hear his voice in my head.
“Agreed.” My tone was breathy because, somehow, my sick mind focused on one part of that request . . .
“Let’s go. I see we’re now on the same page.”
This man knew me so well that it was scary. Unfortunately, I had to consider that a blessing because, right now, I wanted exactly what I knew he was about to deliver.