Chapter 8 What’s Already Written #2
“Admit it, Danae. You just as fucked up about me as I am about you. The only difference is I choose to love you out loud, while you run from the inevitable. But I’m here, Ma.
A nigga ain’t going nowhere. I don’t show up for you for brownie points.
I show up because I want you to know how good this shit can get.
A nigga love you, and I ain’t even made that pussy my home yet. You wanna know why?”
She continued to stare blankly.
“Ask me why.”
“Why?” she questioned just above a whisper.
“Cause I need this,” I pointed to her head then to her heart, “and I want that.”
“And what you gon’ do wit’ it that the last nigga couldn’t?”
“Keep it.”
She froze, mouth clamped around the rim of the cup. I didn’t move. I stayed locked in on her so that she knew I meant every word I said.
“I’m ready to take part in that rest you suggested I take off for,” she said.
“I’ll show you where you can lay down.”
I walked her to the guest bedroom where a king-sized bed with clean sheets and an oversized duvet awaited her. I knew I’d be pushing it if I asked if she wanted to change, so I didn’t bother.
“Bathroom is to your left. If you need anything, I’ll be in my office across the hall.”
“Okay, thank you.” She took a look around the room before turning halfway to me. “And thank you for showing up.”
“Always,” I replied, walking to the door and closing it.
Suddenly, the penthouse came alive, not because her physical presence filled the space but because now, a piece of her heart did too. And once Danae stopped running from what she felt, I had a space for her to land.
A few hours had passed, and I let Danae sleep without interruption.
I needed to do some research on a potential investment property, so I stayed in my office for a few, going over floor plans and figures that worked for me.
Satisfied with my plan of execution, I found myself in the kitchen.
I wanted to make something that would stick to her stomach but wouldn’t cause discomfort when she finally woke up.
I propped my phone up, while Grandma Lettie walked me through her chicken and rice soup recipe step by step on FaceTime.
She sat in the camera with her glasses sitting on the brim of her nose, watching my every move.
If you wanted Grandma Lettie’s help, everything had to be precise, from the way I shredded the chicken to the way I cut the celery and carrots.
Thanks to a quick Instacart, I had everything I needed to make the perfect pot of soup.
“Turn the fire down, grandson. You can’t rush the process,” she said, watching my hand as it stirred the ingredients in the pot. “Your mind can’t be elsewhere while you’re cooking either.”
“I’m here, Grandma,” I assured, adjusting the burner.
I’d just added the chicken, carrots, celery, and bay leaves to the pot.
“What’s on your mind?”
“Work.”
“Mmhmm. Your sister called me. She said you convinced Danae to leave work today.”
I huffed. “I guess she felt like I didn’t receive her advice well, so she figured she’d come to you and have you deliver it?”
She smiled. “That’s what y’all all do, grandson.”
“Yeah, well, whatever she said I did, I did it. And I’d do it again.”
“I’m sure. All I’ma say is you wanna make sure you’re not overstepping.”
I covered the pot and stared in the camera. “Y’all be confusing caring with overstepping. That shit be losing me. I’m not forcing her to do anything.”
“You’re directing,” she corrected. “It’s clear there’s a difference, but you can’t move faster than someone’s heart.”
“Now you sound like Amil.”
“No, I sound like a grandmother who wants the best for her grandson.”
“And I’m what’s best for her,” I countered, frustration settling in my tone.
She studied me for a few seconds. “Have you ever thought about why she keeps a wall up between the two of you?”
“She’s guarded. I told you about her situation from what I assumed.”
“And just what if Danae isn’t ready for the lifestyle of Aura Sullivan? What if she’s shying away from the weight that comes from your name? What if she doesn’t want the protection because it comes with a different way of living?”
I stilled, letting her words settle. “Anything I love is protected no matter what life I live.”
“You ain’t gotta tell me. I raised you to be that way.”
“I’m realistic, Grandma. I know who I am. I know the weight my name carries. I also know that Danae will fit right in. She already does. You’ve met her. If you felt she didn’t, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
“This is true,” she agreed.
I turned the stove off and flipped the camera, so she could see the finished product.
“Beautiful,” she complimented.
I turned the camera back to me. “Danae will be a Sullivan. It’s already written.”
Grandma Lettie smiled and nodded knowingly. “Just make sure that when she takes on that name that it feels like a breath of fresh air and not like you just cut off her oxygen.”
“I hear you.”
“Alright, baby. I’ll talk to you later. I love you.”
“I love you too.”
I wasn’t trying to convince my family that the way I was going about having Danae was right. I didn’t need approval. Their RSVP once I sent out the wedding invitations was just fine with me.