Chapter 5 #2
“It means, like, for real? Are you serious?”
The giggle that floated into the air was soft and sweet. “I’m gonna learn to speak and understand American slang.”
“Black American slang.”
“Black American slang,” she corrected. “Yes, word. I’m serious. We started the business eight years ago, right out of university. It’s taken a minute, but we’ve finally been seeing growth.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You didn’t do this. You didn’t turn my life upside down. Gretchen and her scheme did this. In a weird way, you’re the hero of my story.”
I was shaking my head before she even got the entire statement out. “Nah. I’m not looking to be nobody’s hero. Just let me be your husband. There’s enough pressure in trying to get that right.”
“Since there’s no way I can get my stuff, I’ll need clothes.
” She gestured up and down herself. “These are all the clothes I have. I grabbed the duffle from Gretchen’s place, not even realizing it was basically empty.
This outfit is the only thing that was in it.
I have no clothes.” She gave a plaintive sigh. “No panties. No money. No phone.”
“You have your ID, though, right?”
She nodded.
“Clothes, money, and phones, I can replace.”
“Thank you. I’ll pay you back as soon as Judge Bosco’s able to get them to release the money in my trust.” She threw up her hands. “But who knows when that will be?”
I picked up both of our empty plates and took them to the kitchen. When I got back to the dining room, her head was on the table. Small sobs floated from her lips. When my hand landed on her shoulder, she sat up.
“I’m sorry.” She wiped impatiently at the tears. “I’m so tired of crying, but my life is a shit show. Excuse my language.”
“You got that,” I said dismissively. Who wouldn’t let some profanity fly if they were in her position?
“I keep getting . . . painful reminders that my life, as I knew it, is over.” She wiped at her eyes as the tears kept falling. “I know we’re supposed to be talking, but right now . . .” Her words trailed off.
“Yeah. You need some time to yourself. We can pick this up later.”
I didn’t see Tinsley again that night. Early Sunday morning, I knocked on her bedroom door to see if she was up for breakfast.
She opened the door for me, wearing a towel. “I was in the shower before I remembered that I have no clothes. I was supposed to put Friday’s clothes in the washing machine.” Her eyes batted innocently.
I could definitely love this girl. The thought popped into my head, unbidden.
I mentally chastised myself. You’re such a fucking simp.
This thing wasn’t about love. I pushed those thoughts from my mind.
“Let me send a text. In the interim, let’s see if I have something that won’t swallow you up completely.
” I started to walk away because eyeing her in nothing but that towel was making my dick act up.
I heard the sound of her sucking her teeth before I heard the sound of her voice. “Your clothes will probably be too tight for me.”
I stopped walking and turned to face her. I looked up at the ceiling before letting my eyes meet hers. “Okay. So my new wife has body dysmorphia. She sees herself as being bigger than she really is.”
“I know exactly how big I am. I’ve been living in this body for twenty-nine years—”
Before I even thought about what I was doing or the fact that she was only wearing a towel, I hoisted her over my shoulder. She whooped and hollered as I made the trek from her side of the house to my side of the house, but she didn’t seem to be in any real despair.
I set her down on her feet once we were in my bedroom.
She looked up at me, her expression somewhere between a frown and a grin. “I can’t believe you just did that. The towel came open. My ass was in the air.” She wrapped the towel more tightly around herself. I imagined she was making sure it was secure.
I fought not to laugh at her. “Who saw your ass, Tinsley?”
“That’s not the point.”
I actually did chuckle that time because she stomped her foot like a five-year-old. “What is the point?”
“Whatever.” She huffed. “May I please have something to wear so we can eat breakfast? I missed dinner last night, and I’m starving.”
“Come on.” I motioned with my hand for her to follow me into the closet.
She hesitated. “I don’t want to invade your personal space.”
“At some point, this is gonna be your closet, too. At some point, this is gonna be your bedroom.”
Her gaze fell on the floor. “That’s right. We were supposed to talk yesterday.”
“It’s cool. We’ll talk today. Come on.”
Once we were in the walk-in closet, I made my way over to the built-in shelves that housed my casual wear. “Joggers and a t-shirt good?”
“Yeah.”
I handed her a pair of black joggers and t-shirt from my alma mater, Hale-Williams University.
“Uh . . .”
“Uh, what?”
“I’m pretty sure you don’t have any panties lying around, but do you have any type of underwear that might work for me? I really don’t want to be free-balling in your jogging pants.”
I laughed aloud. “Wow. Okay.” I continued to chuckle as I moved around the closet to where I kept my underwear. “I don’t have no tighty-whities. You cool with boxer briefs?”
“Yeah.”
I handed her the drawers and a pair of socks before leading her out of the closet. Once we were back in the bedroom, I pointed my finger. “The bathroom’s there.”
A few minutes later, she stepped out. As I suspected, my clothes were oversized on her. She almost looked like she was playing dress-up but not quite. She did look adorable, though, and I told her so. “My clothes look good on you, Wife.”
She rubbed her hands up and down the front of the joggers. “I’m glad you think so, Husband, because they’re mine now.”
I chuckled.
“What is this? One hundred percent cotton? It’s so soft.”
I chuckled again. “Come on. Let’s go eat.”