No, I’m throwing it out, on principle.
“I’m still mad at Taraji for almost letting Morris Chestnut ruin a good thing with Michael Ealy,” I explain. “Next.”
Stefano chuckles. “Okay, O for one. How aboutTwo Can Play That Game?”
“Yes, but I still want to hear the last three options.”
He tips his head to either side, considering.
“All right, this next one is a classic. Might give Morris and Vivica a run for their money…Love Jones.”
I laugh because he says it low and measured like he’s onThe $100,000 Pyramidgame show, giving me a clue.
“I would, but—”
“But?” The inflection in his voice rises with disbelief. “A but to new love, poetry snaps, and Chicago stepping? Come on!”
“Look, that movie is myjam. But you can’t tell me you’re in the mood for Bill Bellamy ‘philosophizing.’” I raise a challenging eyebrow, daring him to tell me otherwise.
“Nope, the next thing you’re going to tell me you’ve didn’t loveJust Wright.”
“Actually, that one is a solid yes, for me.”
A low chuckle vibrates Stefano’s shoulders. “Finally, I knew you couldn’t say no to the queen… Okay, we’re down to our last option.” He pulls in a lungful of air, then dips his chin, gameshow dramatic to say, “Jumping the Broom.”
I feel my face twist.
“Are you serious?” His eyes widen. “Don’t tell me you feel some kind of way about Paula’s chicken.”
A full-body laugh rumbles out of me.
“Leave that girl alone. That was her momma’s recipe. I wouldn’t dare judge a movie based off food prep anyways.”
He throws his hands up in mock surrender.
My mouth will not close. I’m gasping for air at how surprisingly hilarious he is.
“For your information, funny guy, I would’ve been fully on board with it. It’s perfect for our wedding-themed lives right now. But it’s playing at Movie at the Vineyard for Wine-Down Wednesday next week.”
“Oh, yeah?”
I chance a quick glance at him. “I was sorta hoping you’d want to take me on a date… Maybe, a little practice before the wedding?”
Realization braids his eyebrows together, and he’s suddenly a pile of sappy mush.
“Aww.”
He reaches across the bed, intertwining our fingers as he plants a kiss on my lips.
“You’re going to get sick, too,” I warn, even though I suddenly feel like I’m fifteen again, and I’d love nothing more than to kiss for hours.
“And you think that’s going to stop me?” He brushes his mouth over mine again. “Whatever you’ve got,we’vegot.”
We.
He brings our intertwined fingers to his lips.
I bite my lower lip, feeling slightly self-conscious, and strangely nervous about how comfortable it feels sharing laughs, a bed, and now, the cooties with Stefano. “Everyone is going to be at the vineyard movie night, though…”
