Kade #4
“Sorry,” I smirked. “Just got caught in a thought.”
“A good one I hope,” the interviewer laughed.
“The best kind.” I answered honestly, glancing over at my wife.
Ysis smiled beside me, and damn if that woman still didn’t hit me square in the chest every time she looked at me like that.
Not with fear. Not with uncertainty. Just love.
Pure, unwavering, ride-or-die love. That humbled me in ways money never could.
The interviewer smiled before glancing back down at her final card. “Before we close out, there’s one last thing people online constantly bring up whenever your relationship is discussed.”
She laughed nervously, but I already knew where this was going. “What would you say to people who still have a lot to say about the fact that you married your assistant?” I leaned back in my chair as Ysis sighed beside me, sensing the bullshit loading in my brain.
“What would I say?” I repeated calmly. The interviewer nodded.
“Oh, that’s easy. Mind your fucking business.” I smiled.
“Kade.” Ysis grabbed my arm.
“No seriously,” I continued while the production crew coughed, and cleared their throats trying not to laugh.
“Niggas act like I kidnapped her from a cubicle and forced her into marriage at gunpoint. This grown-ass woman terrorized my life willingly. Hell, if we being honest, I’m technically the victim in this situation. ”
“Kade!” Ysis hissed louder. I ignored her.
“I hired an assistant and somehow ended up emotionally extorted into marriage, matching pajama sets, prenatal yoga, and watching Love Island against my will. Do y’all know what type of psychological warfare that is for a nigga like me?
” The interviewer laughed, causing Ysis to drop her face into her hands.
“And let’s really talk about it,” I continued with a shrug. “If a regular nigga met a woman at Target, it’s romantic. If I meet mine at work suddenly it’s a damn ethics seminar. People only mad because I fell in love with mine and actually stood on business behind her.”
“Kade, baby...” Ysis warned through her teeth.
“What? I’m cooking.”
“No honey, you’re spiraling.” I smirked as she turned back toward the interviewer with the calmness of somebody used to professionally managing my chaos.
“What my husband is trying to say,” she began, her thumb tracing circles over my knuckles, “is that love rarely shows up perfectly packaged or conveniently timed. Sometimes you meet your person in ordinary places, and before you know it, that person becomes your safest place in the world.”
See? That smooth-ass shit right there. Meanwhile, I’m over here ready to threaten strangers in the middle of a Forbes interview. Ysis continued gracefully.
“People tend to romanticize love until it doesn’t fit the version they personally approve of. But at the end of the day, we’re two consenting adults who found happiness, partnership, healing, and family within each other. There’s nothing shameful about that.”
The interviewer nodded attentively as Ysis smiled softly beside me.
“Everybody deserves the opportunity to be loved fully and openly regardless of where that connection begins. Whether you meet somebody at work, at a bookstore, online, or standing in line at a gas station. Genuine love is still genuine love. And truthfully?” she glanced over at me.
“Life is too short to let outside opinions rob you of something beautiful.” Lord have mercy. I stared at my wife for a second mesmerized when the room went quiet around us. Then I leaned toward the interviewer.
“See how she cleaned that up?”
“Beautifully.” The interviewer laughed.
“Exactly,” I nodded proudly. “That’s why I married her instead of HR.”
“Well,” the interviewer smiled, gathering her cue cards together, “on behalf of Forbes, I just want to thank both of you again for sitting down with us today. Congratulations on all your success, your beautiful marriage, your growing family, and everything still ahead for Myles Tech. It’s truly inspiring watching the both of you evolve publicly and personally. ”
“Appreciate it.” I nodded genuinely.
“Thank you for having us.” Ysis added sweetly.
The cameras finally stopped rolling and the energy inside the studio suite shifted.
Production assistants started moving around, lighting crews powered equipment down, as somebody stepped in to remove our microphones.
The interviewer stood first, extending her hand toward me with another congratulatory smile.
“It was truly a pleasure meeting you both.”
“You as well.” I responded, shaking her hand before Ysis hugged her goodbye. The second the mics came off, I loosened the collar of my shirt with irritation.
“Jesus Christ, it’s hot as fuck in this studio.”
“You survived.” Ysis laughed beside me, fixing the sleeve of my suit jacket.
“Barely.” Her eyes moved over my face affectionately before she reached up and smoothed her hand along my beard.
“You look so handsome,” she whispered. “And I’m so proud of you, baby.
” That’s the part that got me every time.
It didn’t matter how much money I made. Didn’t matter how many companies I owned.
Didn’t matter how many people feared me, respected me, or knew my name.
Nothing hit harder than hearing my woman tell me she was proud of me.
“Thanks bae,” I answered before kissing the top of her hand. “Now let’s get the fuck outta here.” I grabbed her hand, interlocking our fingers as we made our way out the studio. Security and staff moving around us.
Ysis walked close against my side, one hand resting protectively over her stomach while mine stayed locked around hers.
Cameras still flashed somewhere behind us from lingering photographers, but at this point I barely paid attention to that shit anymore.
All I cared about was getting my wife home, back where she belonged.