Chapter 16
B lake was trying so hard not to be nervous about meeting Emon’s mama.
But she was. And he wasn’t sure why. Surely, she knew that he would never lead her astray.
If he said his mom would love her, she could take his word for it.
Still, his queen was in that pretty little head of hers, hoping her jeans weren’t too tight.
“Relax. What I tell you?” he asked.
“Yeah, but I don’t wanna look like a hoochie.”
“Girl, my mama got permanent gold teeth. She is the hoochie,” he said, reaching over to tilt her chin up.
She was tripping and there was no need for it.
He loved his mama, but what she felt didn’t matter to him.
He was in love with Blake, and one thing he wasn’t going to do was go back and forth about it.
“Don’t say that about your mama,” Blake said, stifling a laugh because Emon would say whatever came to his mind. He was crazy, and that sense of humor was why she loved him so much.
“For real. My mom is cool, old school, and from the gutter herself. She raised me, remember?” He brushed his thumb across her cheek, trying to ease her mind. “Plus, you look good as hell in them jeans. Them bitches look painted on.”
Blake opted for red high-waisted skinny jeans that hugged her curves.
Paired with a black halter top and some matching Dior slides Emon bought for her, the outfit came together perfectly.
She kept her makeup natural but made sure her lip gloss was popping, just as Emon liked it.
She even kept her hair simple, with a perfectly slicked-back ponytail.
“You sure it ain’t too much?” she questioned one last time.
Blake was worried, although Emon had made it clear that what his mama thought didn’t matter to him, it mattered to her.
This wasn’t just any woman’s opinion. This was ViceAnne Dowlen, the woman who raised her reason for the love she felt in her heart.
Her reason for existing, it felt. She’d done it as a single mother, making Blake feel honored to even get the chance to meet her.
It made her miss her own parents, wishing she could formally introduce her lover to them.
She could picture telling her daddy how Emon loved her, protected her, and celebrated her.
How he never missed a beat, from remembering her coffee order to making sure she was safe.
Her father would’ve appreciated that kind of attention to detail, that kind of care for his baby girl.
“Baby, you overthinking. My mama probably wondering where we at, not what you got on.” He pulled into a beautiful colonial-style home with a well-manicured lawn.
Cars lined the street. Clearly, ViceAnne didn’t do anything small.
The smell of barbecue and the sounds of Prince’s “Do Me Baby” filled the air as they exited his truck.
“Your mom lives here by herself?” Blake asked, taking in the property. It looked like a home that she saw in O Magazine growing up. Large open windows that let the natural sunlight in, shrubs, trees, and columns that seemed to stretch upward for miles.
“Yep. Told you I take care of mine.” Emon squeezed her hand. “Now come on. Let’s get this over with so you can stop worrying.”
The two walked into his mother’s house hand in hand. Emon could feel her nervousness, so he pulled her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. She loosened the grip on his hand by the time they made it to the kitchen, where he knew his mom was.
“We made it, Mama,” he announced. His mom and aunts all rushed over to pinch his cheek and take Blake from him. His mama was happy for her son. Emon had a good heart, and she’d been patiently waiting for someone to come along and see just that.
“Son, she’s gorgeous. Who her people? I know them eyes from somewhere.” Vicey was squinting and leaning back, trying to place her.
“I’m a Bishop,” Blake said, finding her voice.
“Sho’ll is. Soulja Bishop. Girl, your daddy was a good man. Everybody loved him. We’d be down at the Dynamic Six, he’d buy everyone a round like it was nothing. Baby, she good people.”
“I know, Mama,” Emon said, his eyes finding Blake across the room.
That look still made her weak in the knees.
Under his gaze, she felt like she was the only woman in the world.
Even in his mama’s kitchen, surrounded by family and food and noise, he had a way of making everything else fade away with just one glance.
“I believe it. It smells good in here. Can I help?” she replied to his mother after coming from under the haze of love Emon always seemed to have her in.
Blake always appreciated hearing stories about her father. She knew him as her daddy, not as Soulja. He’d kept that hidden from her for most of her childhood. It was Brooks who broke the news to her about who he was when he wasn’t being Dad.
ViceAnne had welcomed her with open arms, pulling her into the kitchen immediately to taste test the macaroni and cheese and baked beans. “Baby, you know how to season?” she’d asked, and when Blake rattled off her seasoning list, ViceAnne hugged her tight.
Emon watched on for a little while to ensure she was releasing her nerves before deciding to leave her with his people while he went to the back to kick it with his cousin. They didn’t have a big family, more friends turned family, but blood didn’t matter.
He spotted his cousin Giovanni and dapped him up.
“Damn, bro, you been missing. It’s like that?”
“I got me a woman now. A nigga be occupied but for all the right reasons.”
“Feel that! It’s shorty I helped with?”
“Yea, she the best. Got me ready to write love notes, songs, and shit.”
“Damn, a nigga need me one. It’s finna get cold,” Gio joked.
Emon felt him. He felt blessed knowing he’d have a warm body to curl up with after too many cold winters, empty Christmases, and New Year’s Eves spent in bed by nine.
Having someone to share life with changed everything.
Now he just needed to get her to move in.
These separated nights were wearing on him, even if it was just two days a week when she had early mornings.
Like any man in love, he wanted his woman close, wanted to handle her bills, and wanted her focusing on school instead of worrying about rent and utilities.
He had the space, the means, all the streaming services.
He just needed her home with him, but he’d be patient and wait until she was ready.
Once her things crossed his threshold, the next step was the altar, and with Blake, he wasn’t playing any games.
“I thought you had someone.”
“Nah, she got to yappin’ too much and doing all that IG model shit. I ain’t wit’ that. I need me a quiet freak. One that works a regular job, medium cute, natural body, good vibes. I’m too old for the bullshit. She got any friends, bro?”
Emon looked at him, knowing she did, but unsure if he was going to play those games with Gio. He was quiet and reserved and about his money, no doubt, but his cousin couldn’t keep a girl. Emon didn’t want to bring any problems to his girls’ friends.
“Man, her friend Paige might be your speed, but I ain’t playing matchmaker. You want that, you gotta earn it.”
“What that mean?” Gio asked with his face twisted and hands thrown up.
“Meaning I need to see you get your shit together first. Can’t have you out here making me look bad.”
“Since when you care about looking bad?”
“Since I got somebody worth looking good for.” Emon checked his phone, smiling at a text from Blake. “Plus, Paige ain’t the one to play with. She’ll have your ass in check quick.”
“Yeah, well, we gon’ see. Nigga just tried to play me like I can’t take care of a woman.
Watch me,” Gio said before walking off. Emon heard the back door open, and Blake stepped out.
His mind shifted to her. He didn’t give a damn what Giovanni was on.
His goddess had stepped out, demanding the attention of everyone in the backyard.
And he for sure gave it to her. He watched her wide hips sway and ass jiggle as she moved.
It was that smile that brightened the yard that had him considering inappropriate things for a cookout.
Meanwhile, Blake watched Emon by the grill as the sun started setting.
Vicey had her dancing and floating around all afternoon.
He kept glancing her way with that smile that was just for her.
She’d spent the day helping set up, letting ViceAnne tell her embarrassing stories about Emon’s childhood, feeling like she belonged.
His mom was beautiful. Although her short stature let Blake know his height came from his dad, his rich brown skin and nose came from her.
She sported a short haircut that Blake wished she could pull off.
Vicey was gorgeous. Much like Emon, people looked at her and judged her.
She had a wonderful soul and the same sense of humor as her son.
“You know,” ViceAnne said, settling next to her on the back deck, “I ain’t seen my son look at nobody the way he looks at you.”
“Really? I always feel like I’m not doing enough.”
“Oh, please, you wouldn’t be here if he didn’t think so. He don’t bring women home to Mama.”
“He’s special,” Blake admitted, watching him watch her. “His birthday is coming up, and I want to celebrate him. I may need your help.”
“Baby, he don’t celebrate his birthday. He never told you?”
Blake shook her head, surprised but not shocked.
Her man was simple and didn’t need to do too much, but that made her want to celebrate him and do the most for him even more.
She might still be learning how to do this girlfriend thing, but she knew she wanted to take care of his heart the way he took care of hers.
The same world he wanted to give her, she wanted to give him right back. They’d just have to share it.
“He never told me that. Don’t matter. I’m changing that this year.”
“Mm-hmm.” ViceAnne’s gold teeth flashed. “Don’t let my son ever forget how special you are too. He ain’t never made a big deal about it, but now that he got someone to share it with, he might.”
Blake understood what she was saying, but she also knew she didn’t have to worry. Emon was a good man who didn’t teeter on any lines about her. He’d been making it clear from the jump that he was all in.
“You raised a good man, Vicey.”
“It feels good to hear that because he wasn’t always like this. Had a lot of aggression about his daddy not being around. Got in trouble, fighting, stealing, drugs, anything he could do. Always felt like he had to be the man of the house and that pressure wasn’t fair to put on no child.”
“Hey, don’t give yourself a hard time. I’m sure you did the best you could. That was his journey. Maybe he needed to get it out of his system. I don’t judge.”
“Girl, this why he love you. You got that same understanding spirit I got. Sometimes folks need to find their own way back to who they supposed to be.” ViceAnne’s gold teeth flashed. “And, baby, he found his way right to your door.”
“You know about that?” Blake questioned with wide eyes.
“Sure do. He came to Sunday dinner and told me about how he’d met someone in the strangest way, but the way he said it let me know it was a woman. He said you going to school to be a nurse?”
“Yes, ma’am. Well, I’m getting my Masters to become a Nurse Practitioner. Hopefully, I never have to do that for him again,” Blake said, smiling.
“Shoot, you can cook and you’re smart. I need to get a picture. My boy did good. Jarvis, come take a picture with Blake for my profile on Instabook!”
Blake had never heard him go by his middle name, but she liked it. She wondered if he wanted a junior. She shook that thought out of her head. She needed to graduate first. He came running, scooping her up bridal style while she giggled. “Put me down, Jarvis.”
“Aye, only my mama can call me that, but I’ll make an exception for you,” Emon said, giving Blake a quick kiss.
“My daughter-in-law can call you what she wants,” ViceAnne said, snapping pictures with her phone. Parents could be so embarrassing, but Emon had learned a long time ago to let his mom be and do her because she would always let him be and do him.
“You can put me down now.” Blake giggled, wiggling in his arms.
“I was just getting practice.” Emon placed a kiss on her lips again before setting her down. The cookout had been everything Blake didn’t know she needed. Seeing who and where he came from solidified what she already knew. She was going to have this man’s babies one day.
It was time to say their goodbyes. Blake pulled Emon aside. “Cookout at our house next?” she asked, slowly turning to face him.
“What?” Emon paused and pulled her close, searching her eyes to ensure he heard her right.
“I’ll move in with you.” She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Watching you today with your family, seeing how you love them... I want that. I want us.”
His smile lit up his whole face. “You sure? What changed your mind?”
“Nothing changed. It was never going to be a no it was all about when. I’m ready and done being afraid of the good stuff.” She kissed him softly. “Plus, your mama already told me I’m family.”
From the doorway, ViceAnne watched with a knowing smile. Her baby had finally found his match. “Emon!” she called out. “You better do right by that girl. She too good for these streets.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he answered, never taking his eyes off Blake. “That’s the plan.”
“See, already family,” Blake replied with a smile.
“Lord,” he groaned out, but his eyes were dancing. “This is what I prayed for.”
“And I love that for me.” Blake couldn’t stop smiling, feeling lighter than she had in weeks. The decision felt right. As right as helping a stranger bleeding in her living room.
They said their final goodbyes, but ViceAnne didn’t want to see them leave, so she made her way to the driveway to hug Blake extra tight once more before they left.
“Welcome to the family, baby girl,” she whispered before releasing her.
As they walked to his truck, the evening air filled with laughter and music from the remaining guests, Blake felt Emon squeeze her hand.
“You know what this means, right?” he asked, opening her door and helping her in.
“What’s that?”
“You lowkey stuck with a nigga now. No takebacks.”
Blake watched him walk around to the driver’s side, thinking that the best things in life came from taking chances. From trusting your heart, even when your mind wanted to play it safe. And this? This was definitely one of those times.
“No takebacks needed,” she said as he started the truck. “I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.”