Page 59 of Hooked on Loving Him

“What’s on your mind, Shari?”

Ashari giggles like I’m tickling her, causing me to chuckle while shaking my head because my poor baby is lit.

“Stop, Ashari. Be serious. This is serious.” She coaches herself as I wait for her to get herself together to tell me what she’s thinking.

“Mm. Okay. Okay. I’m good now. Uh, I was thinking about us having kids and wanted to tell you that the ball is in your court. Whenever you’re ready to assume the night shift, let me know, and it’ll be on like Donkey Kong,” she says before laughing again at her corny reference, but her words warm me.

Knowing that Ashari is allowing me time to take a step toward us becoming parents confirms why she’s the woman who now carries my last name.

God, You really saw fit to bless me, and I’m eternally grateful.

Two months later…

The last sixtydays have been far more fulfilling than I could have ever imagined. Some days, I think I’m in a dream because it still hasn’t fully hit me that I’m somebody’s wife. Who knew that cussing a man out after having a flat tire in a thunderstorm would lead me to where I am now. Despite being in previous relationships, I have never lived with a man, so it took some getting used to. While waking up in Kayshon’s arms has been the missing link in my existence, the rest of our cohabitation has taken some time to adjust.

For instance, I constantly have to remind Kayshon to put the toilet seat down. I’m not sure if he was auditioning during the times we spent the night at each other’s place pre-marriage, but it’s an area of contention for us. One thing that I have also had to adjust to is Kayshon’s need to put sugar in his grits. Personally, it’s the most disgusting habit out of all of them I’ve encountered thus far. According to Mycah, there are far worse things to complain about, about my husband, but she’s a sweet grit eating heffa, so her opinion is biased.

What hasn’t been difficult is watching Kayshon put in the effort to progress through his past. Knowing he’s just as committed to his therapy sessions as he is to making our marriage work is a turn-on for me. Although it took me a little while to settle the circumstances of Kayshon’s life in my mind, I fully support him.

“I can’t believe you threw away the grits I made for you. How are you gonna eat everything I made but that?” Kayshon asks, snapping me out of my thoughts as my eyes peer into him.

A quickening heartbeat colliding with the thickness increasing in my throat is my response to the light filling Kayshon’s eyes.

“I appreciate you cooking for me, but there will never come a day where we agree on anything but cheese, butter, salt, and pepper mingling with my grits.”

“Man, you're tripping and don’t know what you’re missing out on.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” I say laughing as he joins in while shaking his head.

“All right. Let’s get out of here so we’re not late.”

Out of the blue last night, Kayshon said he wanted us to go to Papa Ren’s church today. While attending church is never a problem for me and also something I secretly enjoy, I didn’t expect Kayshon to suggest we go. Papa Ren and Kayshon havegone on a couple outings together, so I’m charging it to Papa Ren’s influence. Yet, it’s an influence I will never complain about Kayshon having.

“Let me find out you know how much the church mother will harass you if you walk in late,” I say, giggling.

“Oh, Kyce already informed me when I mentioned our going today.”

Laughing, I allow Kayshon to lead me out of the house as my eyes roam toward Jawaan’s house as Kayshon locks up.

Lord, cover my brother-in-love and surround him with your love.

“Please turn to Psalm twenty-three, verse three. It’s a very familiar passage of scripture, yet it’s the one from which today’s message was birthed. The Bible records these words: He restoreth my soul. He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name’s sake. Bow your heads for a word of prayer,” Papa Ren says as I shift in my seat, anxious to hear where he’s going with today’s message.

One thing about Lorenzo Reese is that his sermons are never so heavy and deep that you can’t follow or understand what he’s trying to convey.

“Eternal and wise God, I ask that I would decrease that You increase. Let everyone, under the sound of my voice, have ears to hear what the Spirit is saying to the church. Use me for your Glory. Speak through me that someone might find You. And when you’re done, I’ll gladly take my seat. In the matchless name of Jesus, I pray. Amen.”

Everyone takes their seats as Papa Ren begins his sermon, and my ears tingle with awareness of his words. Kayshon slipshis hand in mine, effectively calming my nerves that I’m sure he’s unaware are spiraling. Unconsciously, my focus shifts, and I start looking around the room until landing on an unknown woman. As soon as our eyes connect, a vision of Jawaan slams into me, strong enough to shift my mind from the sermon.

Whoever she is would be perfect for Jawaan.

The woman smiles weakly before the person next to her turns to look in my direction with her brows hiking. Something familiar that I can’t pinpoint causes my chest to tighten as my mouth twists.

“What’s got your attention?” Kayshon leans over whispering, cutting off my line of sight to the women, diverting my focus from Papa Ren.

“Nothing.”

Wordlessly, Kayshon assesses me with his forehead wrinkling as his thumb lightly caresses my index finger.

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