Page 33 of Finding My Bodyguard

That was the second time she’d called me by my name, and it was bothering me. I was London to her, and that’s how I liked it.

“Monroe!” I called her name.

“Leave me alone, London.” She covered her ears.

“Nah!” I yelled back. “Answer the phone, so we can talk this out like adults.” I dialed her number again. This time, her soft voice glided through the phone.

“Yes, Royale?”

“Aye, stop calling me that,” I warned. She didn’t say anything. Her breathing was the only way for me to know she was still on the phone.

“Ask what’s making you feel uncomfortable,” I instructed. We might as well get it all out in the open.

“Who is she?”

“Her name’s Briana. She was a friend.”

“And you have sex with her?”

“I used to. Last Thursday was the last time,” I answered honestly.

“Why’d you lie?”

“I lied to protect your feelings. I should have just been truthful about it.”

Monroe sighed on the other end of the phone.

“You were right; we shouldn’t have had sex. I don’t think I can handle the thought of you fucking another woman.”

I pushed the button, hoping she’d connect the video so I could see the jealousy etching across her beautiful face. She appeared on screen, and I cringed at her puffy eyes. I never wanted to see her cry or have to be jealous ever again. If I had it my way, Monroe would be mine, we’d ride off in the sunset, but that wasn’t what she needed.

“I don’t want to fuck other women, Monroe; that’s the fucked-up part,” I admitted.

“Why is it fucked up?” Her eyes held my gaze through the phone.

“Because you deserve freedom, not to be locked down in a relationship, and every time I look at you, that’s what I want to do. Make this marriage more than just an on-paper situation.”

“Why can’t I have both? My freedom and you?”

Her question was simple, but I ain’t have an answer for her. It had only been two days since we’d met. We shouldn’t be having this conversation. The feelings we felt for each other we shouldn’t be feeling, but we were.

“Maybe you can, Chocolate.” I sighed. “But let’s start with your freedom first.”

The line fell quiet, and her head dropped. Monroe was special. I knew that, but she didn’t and that was the problem.

"You need to get the experience of being alone—eating alone, sleeping alone, dating yourself. Making your own choices. Those are the only things that will allow you to grow, Chocolate.” I checked the screen to gauge if she was actively listening. I needed her to be listening because I needed her to do the things I was speaking of. Her eyes were back on mine, holding my gaze, so I continued. “You need time to learn yourself, to learn what inspires you, to learn your hopes and dreams, to figure out your boundaries.” I paused, trying to figure out the right words for the last thing I wanted to say.

“Monroe, baby, when you do all that and when you’re healed, you better believe I’ma be there with open arms, waiting for you to choose a nigga. Not because I’m the only nigga that’s ever treated you like you deserve or because I be digging yo’ fucking guts out, but choose me because you know who the fuck Monroe is and how I fit into your life.” I could hear her breathing get heavy. I hoped she was taking in everything that I had said because I meant every fucking word. I couldn’t make it blunter than this.

“I don’t know who Monroe is,” she mumbled as if the discovery was new to her.

“And it’s not your fault.” She’d been born into a family that dealt her cards. “Make me a promise, Chocolate. Promise me you’ll focus on getting to know who you are. Promise me you’ll heal,” I demanded. She stared at me with tears welling up in her eyes.

“I promise,” she whispered into the phone. I could hear the reluctance in her voice.

“Good, now let’s get some rest.” I climbed my unclothed body into the bed and nestled my phone onto the pillow next to me. We didn’t need to say anything further, and soon, Monroe’s light snores filled the air, offering me the perfect background noise to doze off.

Monroe

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