Chapter 25 Zahra Cartier
ZAHRA CARTIER
Saint held the door open for me with his hand planted at the small of my back in that possessive way that always felt protective.
March in Chicago was still a bit cool, but inside the restaurant was warm and cozy. A hostess greeted Saint by name and led us to a corner table.
Saint pulled my chair out and waited until I sat before he took his own seat. He looked too good to be real, even dressed down. He was wearing a hoodie under Carhart overalls and Timbs. But he was also wearing watches and jewelry that cost more than most homes.
His eyes stayed on me long enough to make me forget my own thoughts. No matter how long this man had been my husband, his stare still intimidated me and made me weak at the same time.
I picked up my menu and started to scan the options. “Have you heard from Sincere how Rhythm and the kids are doing?”
It had been weeks, and I still couldn’t believe what happened that night. But as soon as I felt shocked, I was reminded that my own psychotic ex and father had tried to do the same to get me away from Saint.
“Last time I heard, she and the kids are fine and healing well.”
My fingers paused on the menu, and I looked up at him. “I still can’t believe you ran into that burning car.”
“Yes, you can,” he chuckled.
My eyes narrowed at him finding this funny. “Saint, that car could’ve blown up at any second.”
His eyes stayed on mine. “I knew, and I still wasn’t leaving that nigga there.”
I hated that I understood him. I hated that part of me loved him even more for it.
“Saint, you can’t keep doing that. You can’t keep making decisions where your life is the price.”
“That wasn’t a decision, baby. That was instinct.”
“It was stupid.”
He laughed again, but it died fast when I glared at him. “Kodi wasn’t going to die in that crash. Not after what he did to those kids and Rhythm.”
“I’m so happy Rhythm and those babies really made it.”
Saint slowly nodded. “They got lucky.”
“They were blessed,” I corrected. “Because that could’ve gone a whole different way.”
Saint chuckled with a shake of his head. “Icon been mad as hell he missed it. He actin’ like we had a party without him.”
I couldn’t help my laugh. “He was home with Royal, right?”
“Yeah, Royal and Livia had that bad cold. He did what he was supposed to do, but he hates he missed that action.”
I leaned forward, asking, “Are you ready to have to make that kind of decision?”
Saint’s eyes narrowed. “What decision?”
“When it’s something happening with the cartel, and your child is sick at home. When you have to choose between the business and your baby, and you have to choose your baby.”
Saint didn’t hesitate. “That will be the easiest part of being a gangsta. You and my kid will always win. Every time. No discussion.”
I watched his face as he said it, and my heart softened.
Saint’s eyes widened a little, and his energy perked up. “You pregnant?”
I blinked rapidly. “Huh?”
He pointed at me like he’d cracked a code. “You’re asking me about choosing kids. Is my baby pregnant with my baby?”
“Saint,” I said, already laughing. “I am not pregnant.”
His shoulders dropped, then he shook his head like he was disappointed in the universe. “Damn.”
“Don’t ‘damn’ me. You know I like our life how it is right now. We get to move around freely. We hop jets whenever we want. We party when we want. We do what we want without checking in with nobody but each other.”
Saint’s grin came back. “So, you’re enjoying just being my wife.”
“Yes, I am.”
He reached across the table and took my hand again, kissing my knuckles like he was showing off. “Good. Because we’re young, so we have time to have kids.”
I squeezed his hand. “Right. I want to enjoy life with you and enjoy each other before we have to focus on raising kids.”
He reached across the table and held my hand.
I squeezed it, telling him, “Thank you.”
His brows curled into such a cute expression. “For what?”
“For being a good husband. For being devoted. For loving me the way you do.”
Saint’s gaze held mine. “I’m always gon’ be that. You know that.”
I continued to watch him, swooning. “You are a good husband.”
Saint scoffed playfully. “I’m a’ight.”
“You are. You are a devoted husband. You love hard. You protect hard. You show up.”
His eyes dipped to my mouth, then back up. “You happy?”
“Yes,” I said, immediate. “I’m so happy.”
“Are you really happy?”
My head tilted curiously. “Yeeees,” I answered slowly.
He squeezed my hand, then smirked. “Good.”
“Why are you asking me that?”
“Because you suck my dick so good when you’re happy”
My mouth dropped dramatically. Then I picked up the cloth napkin off of the table and threw it at him as he started to crack up laughing.