Epilogue #3
“Do I look like I’m fuckin’ playin’?” His arm tightened around my waist as he pushed the box closer to me, watching me with that same intense look on his face. “You lockin’ in wit’ me or what?”
I looked down at the ring again and laughed through my tears because there was no way this was how Sherrod Cole was proposing to me.
There was no speech, no getting down on one knee, and apparently no actual question either.
There was just a huge diamond sitting on the table beside the first picture of our baby while he stared at me like saying no wasn’t even something he had considered.
“You didn’t even ask me to marry you.”
“What, you ain’t hear me?”
“That’s not how you ask for a woman’s hand in marriage, Smoke.”
Smoke’s mouth twitched. “So, what’s yo’ answer?”
“You are unbelievable.”
“Lace.” The little bit of amusement disappeared from his face. He took my chin between his fingers, making sure I was looking directly at him. “I ain’t come out here to play wit’ you. I bought that ring weeks ago, before any paternity results and before all this.”
Smoke wiped the tears from my cheeks with his thumbs, his hands staying on my face when he finished. “I had yo’ ass once and lost you for eight fuckin’ years. I can’t do that again.” He looked me dead in my eyes. “So, yeah, I’m tellin’ yo’ ass. Marry me.”
I covered my mouth with my free hand as another wave of tears came, but Smoke just sat there waiting for me.
The confidence in his face should have irritated the hell out of me, especially since he clearly expected the answer he wanted, but this was Smoke.
My fucking man. “Yes,” I whispered through my sobbing.
Smoke’s jaw tightened. “I can’t hear you.”
I laughed as I wiped at my face. “Yes, Sherrod. I’ll marry you.”
Smoke’s hand came up around the front of my throat, and his fingers tightened just enough to hold me there as he stared into my eyes.
He pulled my face closer to his and kissed me hard, while his other arm tightened around my waist and kept me firmly in his lap.
By the time I pulled away, I was breathless and very aware that we were still sitting in the middle of a restaurant.
“People are looking at us.”
“Fuck ‘em.”
“Of course you would say that.” Smoke took the ring from the open box in front of us and reached for my left hand. The marquise diamond looked even bigger, and I stared at it while he slid it onto my finger for a perfect fit. I looked from my hand to him. “How the hell did you know my ring size?”
“Yo’ mama.”
My mouth dropped open. “My mama knew?”
“Been knew.”
“Smoke!”
“What?” He picked up the ultrasound from the table again and looked at it before his eyes dropped to my stomach.
“You worried ‘bout the wrong shit right now.” I followed his eyes and felt my chest tighten all over again. Smoke looked back at me and shook his head. “Pregnant and yo’ ass knew for a whole week.”
I groaned. “Please don’t start that shit again.”
“I’m startin’ it every time I think about it.” He slipped the ultrasound carefully back into the envelope before looking at me. “You ain’t keepin’ no more shit like this from me, Lace.”
“I won’t.”
“I mean that.”
“I know, and I said I won’t.” I touched his face and waited until some of the irritation left his eyes.
I had a ring on my finger, a baby growing inside me, and apparently a fiancé who planned on giving me shit about that one week for the rest of my life. Somehow, I knew this was only the beginning of whatever the hell came next for Smoke and me.
???
Two months later, Smoke stood in the middle of his bedroom staring at the moving boxes stacked against the wall as if I had personally offended him. “All this shit?”
I looked up from the box I was opening and shifted on the floor when my back started bothering me. “I lived in L.A. for eight years, Sherrod. What did you think I was coming home with, a suitcase or two?”
“Why the fuck you need this many clothes, shoes, and bags?”
“Why do you need so many damn sneakers?”
“That ain’t the same shit.”
“It is to me.”
Smoke shook his head and picked up another box before carrying it toward the closet. I smiled and went back to unpacking until I reached for the next box and felt his hand close around my wrist. “Fuck you doin’?”
“Opening a box.”
“Then open that one.” He pointed at the smaller box beside me. “Leave that heavy shit alone.”
I looked down at my stomach before looking back at him. At three months, there still wasn’t much there unless I wore something fitted, but Smoke had been treating me like I might break since the day he found out. “I’m pregnant, Smoke. I’m not helpless.”
“I know what the fuck you are. Leave the box alone, Lacey.” I rolled my eyes as he strolled out of the bedroom.
The house had been busy all morning, and even from the bedroom upstairs, I could hear everybody on the first floor.
My mother’s voice carried up the stairs every now and then as she fussed about making plates.
Darius and Anthony made enough noise coming through with the last of the boxes that I knew every time they were back, and Keyana and Cindy kept yelling up the stairs asking me where I wanted things.
I’d barely been allowed to do shit. Every time I picked up anything heavier than a throw pillow, Smoke was taking it from me, and my mother had already asked me twice if I needed to sit down.
At this rate, the only thing anybody was going to let me unpack was my purse.
I couldn’t even be mad about it for real.
There was plenty of time to unpack once everybody left, and none of these boxes were going anywhere. Neither was I.
My condo in Los Angeles was officially gone.
I kept what I needed at the company apartment for the days I had to be in the office, and I still planned on traveling for work while pregnant until I couldn’t anymore.
I still planned on enjoying everything about my new job.
The only difference was that when I finished handling my shit, I would always come back home to Bellhaven.
Smoke walked into the bedroom again and looked around. “You done took over my whole fuckin’ house.”
“Our house.” He narrowed his eyes at me, and I smiled. “Yeah, I said it.”
“I ain’t know you came wit’ all this shit, Lacey.”
“You should’ve asked better questions.”