“They can’t stand you.” I glanced around discreetly, noticing that we were really the only chocolate chips in the sea of milk. “Is it a . . . racial thing?”
“Yeah. I stick with the black WAGs. I don’t really mess with the . . . others. Anyway, what do you mean, we’re getting married? When did this come about?” She grabbed my hand, searching for a ring.
“I told him today, when we talked. I don’t see any point in us dating. What is there for us to learn about each other that we don’t already know? Plus, we’ve been dating since we were kids. Do you know how many times this man has taken me out to eat, or paid for my birthday shenanigans, or bought me a gift?”
“Probably more times than Travis has done it for me, and I’m his wife. Yeah, y’all definitely don’t need to waste time pretending to date.” She took a beat. “Are you having a real wedding?”
I cut my eyes at her. “And a real marriage. Jay said he’s not having a paper marriage. I’m moving into his house?—”
“The one you decorated to your taste?” She cut in. “Continue.”
“I’m taking his last name.”
“Are you hyphenating, or are you gonna be Skyy McKissick?”
“I don’t know,” I said honestly. “Feminism makes me feel like I should hyphenate, but part of me just wants to be Skyy McKissick.”
She caught me up in a hug. “I’m so happy for you, bestie. That man loves your dirty drawers. You’re about to step into your soft girl era. I know he can’t wait to legitimately spoil you.”
I giggled.
“Okay. First things first, we need to get some pics to sell the relationship. Go hug your man.”
I handed my phone to her, then went over to Jaxxon. Kelcie snapped picture after picture. Then she handed my phone to Hez, and the four of us, Jaxxon, Kelcie, Travis, and I, took group shots. Soon, even the WAGs got in on the action.
After the photoshoot, I thumbed through the pictures. Baseball, for me and my attention span, was the longest game ever . . . as well as the slowest. Embarrassingly enough, I had, on occasion, dozed off while at a baseball game, supporting one of my players. But not this time. This time, I was wide awake. I swiped through the pictures, posting the cutest ones to my socials and tagging Jaxxon and Kelcie.
It wasn’t long before I saw the comment from my ex, Mario, on one of my pictures.
@Rio_Grande0422 – You at the Crosstown Classic? That’s fucked up that I didn’t get the invite.
@MissScorpio_Skyy- Weren’t you the same nukka who told me that dates are for optics? GTFOH!
Then I blocked him on all my socials.
One week later
Kelcie pretended to be all engrossed in her phone as we rode in the back of the chauffeur-driven sedan.
“Stop pretending to be booked and busy and tell me where you’re taking me,” I said finally.
She’d picked me up from my condo in the South Loop area of the city and now we were weaving in and out of traffic in the Gold Coast area.
She sighed. “Jaxxon wants to spoil you a little . . . as I said he would,” she added with a smack of her full lips. “He wants you to feel courted?—”
“That man’s been courting me since 1967,” I joked.
“Facts! Right?” She laughed. “Anyway, he wants to court you. So, he’s sending you for a day of relaxation.”
“Where is this day of relaxation taking place?”
“The Excelsior Grand.”
“Ooh, fancy,” I commented.
“Yes,” she agreed. “And while I have you here, we need to talk about this wedding.”
“What about it?”
