“Here. Drink this,” he said, and handed me a bottle of Pellegrino water.
“You fancy,” I told him, looking at the tall bottle of water.
He shrugged and tipped his own bottle to his mouth.
“My housekeeper does the shopping. I’d be fine with regular water, but I don’t give her a budget when she shops, so I always come home to exclusive shit stocked in the fridge. I appreciate it all, but I’d know how to live off the bare minimum if needed.”
“I’m sure… poor Southeast kid, turned rich and successful doctor. I can dig it. I know a little about that life. But I ain’t nowhere near on your level.”
Ahmad stared at me, looking as if he was contemplating his words.
“You could be on my level, Jameela.”
I laughed at that.
“It’s a little too late for that. I’m forty, with an infant, and no man,” I rushed out.
Ahmad made a face that I couldn’t decipher.
“What?” I asked.
“Who the fuck cares about your age. If you wanted to go to law school and be a lawyer, because I am sure you’re great at your current job, you could. And as far as having a baby, I would have your back, so anything you wanted to do, as the mother of my child, I would make happen.” Then, he came around the counter, plate forgotten, and pinched my chin between his fingers. “And as far as you not having a man… what do you think we’re doing? Because in my mind, Jameela, I’m ya damn man.”
Wow.
He said that shit with so much conviction. I could also hear in his tone that he took offense to my earlier statement. But I didn’t want to go assuming things about us just because we had a baby and had sex on a regular. Where I’m from that shit was a normal occurrence.
I decided to voice as much to Ahmad, but he immediately shut that it all down.
“Jameela I’m forty-five years old. I’m not one of these little young boys running around trying to be men. I’m a grown ass man, and I’m not into playing games. If you haven’t noticed, I can’t get enough of your ass. Everything about you draws me in, and I want to take care of you and Ahmir.”
Oh.
Shit.
I didn’t really know how to respond. I guess I was so fucked up from my first marriage that I simply thought the possibility of finding love… real love, wasn’t in the cards for me.
That man did not say he loved you, Jameela. Pump ya lil’ hormonal ass brakes.
I needed clarification. Blame it on my profession, but I wasn’t one who like to play in gray areas. I was already losing my mind on what we’ve been doing so far.
“So, what are you saying, Ahmad?”
“I’m saying that, as sure as I am about Ahmir being my son, you, his mother, is my woman.”
Swoon.
I couldn’t keep the cheese off of my face.
“You’re good with that?” he asked.
I couldn’t find my words. All I could manage was a nod.
“Good. Now that that’s out of the way. It’s time for dessert.”
Ahmad spun the stool around so that I fully faced him, and he got on his knees, throwing my leg over his shoulder, and devoured my honeypot.
Shit. This will never get old.
