Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Jameera
Sitting on the edge of the bed, I checked my message from Amill in the group chat with Khaleesi.
Bestie: Khaleesi, who the fuck are you going to dinner with in Morocco? What is going on out there? Y’all left the country and started keeping secrets?
That message came through, followed by a picture Khaleesi posted to her close friends on Instagram.
It showed two meals, two champagne flutes, and a bottle of champagne covering the table.
Wherever they went to dinner for Xain’s birthday, the Moroccan food looked delectable.
Xain wasn’t in the picture, but there was a faint glimpse of his tatted arm at the bottom of the picture.
Amill had better zoom in if she wanted to know who Khaleesi was at dinner with.
Airing out Khaleesi and Xain’s business wasn’t on my agenda, especially when she didn’t post his face.
It took everything out of me not to ask Amill what the hell Q meant when he said he knew why she was always in Miami. I had an inkling, but if it was what I was thinking, I didn’t even want to know, hence why I hadn’t grown the nerve to ask Amill.
Me: Chileeeeeeee.
“Bae, where is the bag with the passports?” Q questioned, entering the bedroom.
I stood to retrieve my medium Telfar purse. Pulling out the small green bag, I flashed our passports to ease his nerves.
“Okay. I just want to check. You ready?”
“I don’t want to go,” I pouted, watching the butler take our luggage.
Q pulled me onto the bed and into his lap, rapidly kissing my neck through the turtleneck I decided to travel in.
We got carried away the night of our engagement, and my neck sustained a few hickeys.
I wouldn’t dare leave them exposed, so a turtleneck it was.
Thankfully, the weather permitted, and I wouldn’t be burning up in the winter garment.
“We can come back after your spring collection drops,” he promised.
“I’m going to hold you to that.” I lifted my pinky, and Q interlocked his in mine.
With my hand lifted, I had the perfect view of the engagement ring that I knew was custom-made just for me.
It was like nothing I’d ever seen anywhere else.
A jolt of excitement suddenly hit me. I couldn’t wait to get started planning our wedding.
Wrapping my arms around Q’s neck, it was my turn to kiss his cheek.
We fell back on the bed, and Q’s hands slipped beneath my joggers to cup my ass.
My breathing quickened, and I moved to straddle him.
A knock sounded at our door, thwarting our quickie. It had to be Xain and Khaleesi coming to collect us for the drive to the airport. I stood from the bed, taking a deep breath to prepare for our long day of traveling. When we made it to the first floor of the riad, Xain was already entering.
“Y’all ready? We are behind schedule. Valet already pulled the truck around. We are just waiting on y’all,” Xain announced.
“We are ready. How was your birthday dinner date with Khaleesi?” I teased.
“Best birthday a nigga could’ve asked for,” he affirmed, a smile spreading across his face.
“I know that’s right,” I cackled.
We followed Xain out of the riad. I hated to say goodbye to my own private oasis. The five days in Marrakesh weren’t enough. Especially since we arrived so late on the first night and left in the middle of the day, leaving a fiancée would always make Marrakesh special to me.
I was on cloud nine, unbothered by everything that happened from the time we piled into the truck until the pilot announced we were taking off. Khaleesi did her usual routine, took her Xanax, and fell asleep. Xain carried her to the back again, but that time he didn’t return.
Sitting next to Q in the plush seats, I pulled out my MacBook and got some work done while he returned all the missed calls and texts he’d ignored while we were away. If it wasn’t a call from family and friends, we both unplugged, something we rarely did.
“Promise that we will unplug like that more often,” I stated after Q ended his call.
“I promise. Whatever my fiancée wants, she’ll get,” he promised, leaning over to kiss my lips.
“I can’t wait to see the pictures and videos that Fabian took. I should’ve known you wouldn’t just fly Fabian out to take a few pictures outside, knowing the museum didn’t allow photography in the exhibit areas,” I commented.
“If you wanted me to and he was available, I most definitely would. I can start hiring someone for all of our trips if that’s what you want.”
“Not all, but maybe the more significant trips. The pictures I take on my iPhone are just as good.”
“They are.” He nodded and passed me his phone.
I took it and watched the montage Fabian created for our proposal.
It was beautiful. Pictures we took at the museum, then a video clip of me almost bouncing out of my seat when I heard the last line of the song, Q getting down on one knee, and that beautiful proposal speech.
I wished I could live in that moment for life. It was filled with love.
“You like it?”
“I love it,” I admitted, clicking around on his phone.
I posted the video to Q’s Instagram with the caption Mrs. Bentley Loading… , then passed the phone back. My message to let the world know that the mess didn’t break us, no matter how hard they tried.
We kept working for a few hours, answering the onslaught of calls from family congratulating us on our nuptials. The last call of the day was the one that took the cake.
“Big Brudder!” Yarissa leaned into the camera with her hair in a fresh blowout, pulling her pink Chanel frames down to the tip of her nose suspiciously.
I thought we were privileged kids growing up, but we didn’t have anything on Yarissa.
At the drop of a hat, her parents or Vincent would have her all over the world.
I could tell from the background that she was in Atlanta at Quincy’s new house.
She brought a strawberry to her lips and bit a huge chunk out of it, staring at the phone skeptically.
“What are you doing in Atlanta?” Q questioned, ignoring her antics.
“You are worried about the wrong thing, Big Brudder. Do you have something to tell me?” She interrogated, chomping on the strawberry.
I lifted my hand into the camera and flashed her my ring. “We are getting married, sis.”
“Congratulations!” Yarissa celebrated, then her smile dropped, and she got serious again.
“But why was I the last to know? Quincy just got off the phone with you, but I got told last? When Dad and Quincy were talking, he said you came to hide the ring at his house a few weeks ago. I thought we were better than that.”
“We are, sis. But I couldn’t tell you beforehand. You talk too much.”
Yarissa gasped, and I burst out laughing. I loved baby girl, but she definitely had a motormouth.
“I do not!” She whined.
“Yes, you do. Remember when you told ma about the vase I broke and replaced,” he reminisced.
Yarissa cackled. “I didn’t think she would care since it was a new one. I was just trying to make my point that she doesn’t know everything.”
“And you threw me under the bus in the process,” Q shook his head.
“I’m sorry, Big Brudder. But she always thinks she’s right.”
“Most of the time she is,” Q admitted.
“Whatever. I want to pick out my own dress for the wedding. I want something chic and elegant, but still adorable,” she smiled, fluttering her lashes. “I’m thinking a nice satin bow somewhere, and a little sparkle since I know I’m going to be the flower girl.”
“Now you know I’m going to make sure your dress is on point,” I chimed in.
“As long as we are on the same page. I want my dress to outshine your bridesmaids. When is the wedding?”
“I just proposed. We haven’t decided on anything yet. Not even the date.”
“A winter wedding, please! I can see a cute winter wonderland theme now,” Yarissa tossed out, looking up at the blue sky behind her.
“We are definitely having a spring wedding when the flowers are in full bloom,” I clarified.
“Oh yeah, I forgot Big Brudder is marrying an earthy sista,” she sassed, raising her fist into the camera.
“Yarissa, get off my line,” Q bantered.
“I have to go anyway. Quincy is about to take me to Phipps. I love y’all. Smooches.”
MWAH! MWAH! MWAH!
Yarissa blew kisses at the phone.
“We love you too. Make sure you’re wearing your seatbelt. I know Quincy be all relaxed with that, but them people can’t drive up there.” Q reminded her.
“Oh yeah, I got to go. You sound like mommy now,” Yarissa quipped, ending the call.
“That girl,” I giggled, shaking my head.
“Spring wedding, huh? Are you thinking this spring or next?”
“I’m happy with either,” I responded.
“I’m not trying to wait forever.”
“I think we can pull off a small May wedding. But it would have to be small,” I emphasized. “With you preparing for your tour, and me gearing up for our spring launch, we are both about to be busier than we already are. Otherwise, we can shoot for next spring.”
“You right. I don’t want to rush it. I want our wedding to be perfect,” he commented.
“Next spring it is.”
Q’s phone rang, and it was my father calling. He probably saw the post, realized we were together, and decided to go through Q to speak with me. I still wasn’t in a place to talk. Silencing the call. I took Q’s phone and blocked his phone number.
“You can’t ignore him forever,” Q asserted.
“And why not? My father has always put his work before me. Is it too much to expect for him to have my back this one time? For something that egregious? D3, my father’s artist, exploited me and my relationship for publicity.
What if there wasn’t footage of me almost macing him?
We probably wouldn’t be sitting right here right now! ”
“You right bae. Your feelings are valid.”