Chapter 10
Two weeks later . . .
“Stop starin’ at it. You might go blind,” Beretta joked.
With my hand out in front of me, I beamed. “I can’t help it. It’s so pretty.”
My ring had finally come in from being sized. It had been a long two weeks of waiting, but it was here and on my finger for a lifetime.
Beretta chuckled as he drove. “Yeah, that mothafucka is nice.”
Not a lie told there. The ring we picked out was something special.
It was big, sparkly, and screamed fiancée.
Damn. I really couldn’t believe I was someone’s fiancée.
This thing with Beretta had been a whirlwind, but I was glad it happened.
What was it people said? I wouldn’t trade this shit for anything in the world.
“You hungry?” I finally asked as I pried my eyes away from my beautiful ring and looked at my fiancé. He knew his ass was fine. His fresh re-twist and crisp line up had me wanting to drop my panties and fuck him right here in the car, but my rumbling stomach forced me to get my priorities in check.
“Hell yeah.” He licked his lips and glanced at me.
I giggled. We were always on the same damn page. “For food, daddy. For real, I’m hungry.”
“Gotta feed my baby then,” he replied.
I knew I didn’t even have to tell him where I wanted to go.
He knew my favorite places. I sat back like a passenger princess in awe.
Who the hell would have ever thought my crazy ass would be a damn passenger princess?
I might not have fully been in my soft girl era—the beast in me was too wild for me to think I would ever fully be there—but I knew I was as close as I’d ever get.
That was what Beretta did to me. Now that I allowed myself to love him and stop running and hiding from him, I felt so safe with him.
When we pulled up to my favorite steakhouse, I beamed. “Oh, you tryna go all out?”
“Only the best for my fiancée.” He grinned as he parked, then he got out to get my door for me.
I knew all our family and friends were sick of us. Now that they’d gotten over the shock of us being engaged, they had to be sick of us. I knew I would be. All we talked about was my fiancé this and my fiancée that. We were sickening, and I wouldn’t change it for the world.
We walked hand in hand into the restaurant. Affection had gotten so much easier for us in the past couple of weeks. Now that we weren’t pretending we couldn’t stand each other, all the lovey dovey shit Chyna and Keegan did came natural.
“Table for two?” the hostess asked.
Beretta looked behind him and to each side of him, and I snorted. He was about to be up to his good ol’ bullshit.
“Do you see more than two people standin’ here?”
The woman looked flustered. “No?”
“You askin’ me a question now?” Beretta quizzed.
“I was just . . . I don’t . . .” The lady looked at me, and I shrugged.
“My man asked you a question. You gonna answer it, or do we need to talk to your manager for being rude?”
“N-no, that’s not necessary. No, I-I wasn’t asking a question. I s-see it’s just the two of you. I’ll get you a table for two.”
I smacked my glossed lips together. “So, now you’re assuming we don’t got friends? What, ’cause we Black we ain’t got no kinfolk?”
My brows pulled together at the nerve of this lady.
The hostess’s brows shot up. “What? No! I didn’t mean that at all.”
“Man, let me talk to your manager. This is outrageous.” Beretta snapped his fingers and shouted, “Manager! Manager!”
It didn’t take long for a short, stout woman with brown hair to appear. “Is there an issue?”
“Yes. The issue is this lady is racist,” Beretta claimed.
“That is not—”
“She told us we ain’t have no kinfolk.” I crossed my arms over my chest and pouted.
The manager cleared her throat and glanced at the hostess, who was now a bright shade of red. Served her right.
“I’m so sorry about that. Please, let me seat you and get you set up with a bottle of wine of your choice, on the house.”
“A bottle of wine? That’s it? We came here to celebrate our engagement, and we get treated like shit, and you offer us a bottle of wine?” I asked. The nerve of these people.
“I’ma have to write a Yelp review,” Beretta commented.
The manager looked horrified. “How about your whole meal on the house? We appreciate you joining us to celebrate such a lovely occasion.”
Beretta looked down at me. “I don’t know. What you think, Juicy?”
I looked at the ceiling in contemplation. “I do love their lobster mac and cheese.”
Beretta leaned down and kissed my nose before he looked at the manager again. “A meal on the house sounds just fine.”
The manager quickly grabbed a couple of menus and led us through the dining room. When she tried to seat us near the restrooms, I halted my steps. Beretta immediately noticed why I stopped.
“These niggas is really on some bullshit,” Beretta mumbled.
“And is,” I agreed.
“Aye, we don’t wanna sit there. Put us right there.” Beretta pointed to a table near a large window. My baby had good taste. To me, it looked like the best table in the restaurant.
“Uhm . . . someone is already occupying that table. How about here?” the manager asked as she pointed out another table.
“You ain’t hear what my man just said? We want that table.
Better move those people out our damn way if you don’t want a bad Yelp review.
We each have half a million followers on our social media platforms. Do you want to see?
Maybe that will help you put a little pep in ya damn step. The fuck?” I glared at her.
“That won’t be necessary! Please, just hold on a moment.” The manager rushed over to the table we wanted. I watched with a big smile on my face as she spoke with the white couple already sitting there. They looked furious, but they could fuck right off as far as I was concerned.
And guess what? That was exactly what the hell they did.
When we were finally seated, the manager scurried away. Beretta chuckled. “You hell, baby.”
“Me? You started that shit.” I laughed. We both knew we were being slightly ridiculous, but that was what the world got for pairing us together. We would raise hell wherever we went and not feel bad about it. Since we couldn’t do it to each other anymore, we had to let that energy out somehow.
Beretta grabbed my hands and gazed at me lovingly. “You ready to be Mrs. Slater yet?”
I loved the sound of that.
“Soon, daddy. Soon. I promise.” It didn’t really matter to me anymore how quickly we did or did not move.
All I knew was I wanted to be up under Beretta all the damn time.
But I also knew I wanted an actual wedding.
Nothing big, but something fancy and fun, for sure.
All black everything, just for my man. I could see it now. “A fall wedding sounds nice.”
It was only a couple of months away.
Beretta grinned. “Yeah, it do.”
“October?”
“Twenty-first,” he suggested.
I raised a brow. “Why the twenty-first?”
“It just sounds good.” He shrugged.
I giggled. “October twenty-first it is then.”
A server appeared at our table. It was an older white man with a gray beard. “Can I interest you in a bottle of wine?”
I opened my mouth to tell him to bring us the most expensive one, but Beretta spoke first.
“Aye, man. You flirtin’ wit’ my woman?” Beretta snapped.
“What? S-sir, no,” the server stammered.
“Yes, you was. We don’t want you as a server. Bring us a female,” Beretta said.
“And you think the bitch won’t flirt with your fine ass? No. No women.” I cut my eyes at Beretta.
He held his hands up in mock surrender. “Fine. Bring us a lady man.”
I nodded. “Yeah. A lady man. That sounds perfect. Can’t be mad if they flirting with us both.”
Beretta and I laughed and slapped hands while the server scurried away.
“You hell,” he said.
I shook my head as I giggled. “You bring the worst out in me.”
“Yeah? Well, you bring the best and the worst out in me, Juicy.”
“Aw, baby. That’s so sweet.” I gushed.
“I love you, woman.”
“And I love you.” I leaned over the table and kissed him, more than happy to have a lifetime of foolery with this man who was my fiancé but also my best damn friend.