Page 2 of Wiley A.F.

“David, really?”

“What?” He pursed his lips together. “Am I being just as ridiculous as my heterosexual life partner?”

“Fine. If I wear the ring, would you leave me alone?”

“Honey, one, I’ll never leave you alone. I’m like a bad case of herpes. I’m hanging onto your ass for life…or maybe I’m a hemorrhoid. Anyway, squirrel moment.” He shook his head before continuing, “Two, you don’t do this for me or anyone else. You hear me? It doesn’t matter how certifiable the entire world may think you are—and I do, by the way, think you are insane—you live your life for yourself. When did Ezilynn Iris Osborne start giving a damn about what people think? Becausemy best frienddoes not give two shits about society’s standards of beauty, marriage, or anything else for that matter.”

He took a drink and set his cup on the table. Before I could speak again, he was on his feet and behind me, his fingertips combing through my hair.

“What are you doing?” I complained, swatting his fingers away as they poked around several strands of my locks before his fingertips flowed down my shoulders and outlined my curves.

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“Not even a little bit. A new interpretive dance?”

“Girl, no. I’m clearing your aurora, straightening your crown, and reminding you of who the fuck you are, queen.”

I caught his fingers as he stepped away, giving them a firm squeeze. “Thank you, Dave.”

“Always. But eventually, you are going to have to cut him free or commit. You know that, right?”

Nodding my head in agreement was the only response I was giving him right now. He wasn’t telling me anything I didn’t already know all too well. Even though Malcom had never placed a timestamp on his proposal and probably never would, there was a constant clock counting down a little closer to zero every day while the tension rose between us when the topic was brought into the conversation. I wanted to say I trusted him wholeheartedly, but his long work trips hadn’t been kind to my insecurities. The man was the closest thing to a saint that I would probably ever meet, and yet, here I was questioning his motives. Perhaps the best thing would be to end our engagement. David and the rest of the male population as a whole weren’t the only selfish ones, though. I too fell into that type when it came to Malcom. We’d been together now for seven years, not including the two years prior to graduating, and there was no future I was able to envision without him. I tried to, wanting to make sure I thought of everything in my search to find an answer for why it made me want to puke when I reached for the engagement ring that probably cost more than my entire wardrobe and the armoire that held a big part of it. Actually, I was certain it did.

I closed my eyes. “What am I going to do?”

“Only you can decide that one, Z.”

“Hell, this would be so much easier if I was a mail-order bride.”

“No, it wouldn’t.”

“Hmph. How wouldn’t it?”

“It’s you.” He flittered his fingers in my face, rounding the table once more, and plopped onto his chair. “I love you, best friend, but you are the most complicated woman I know, and I work in a salon.”

“And?”

“And you being you would figure out how to destroy your future husband for doing something as degrading as ordering you instead of seeking you out and wooing you.”

My mouth parted to fight him on this, but it closed just as quickly as it opened. Perhaps the reason I hadn’t put the ring on my finger again had nothing to do with Malcom and everything to do with me. Dave had a huge point; I was constantly searching for an arguing point. I chalked that up to having the dad I did. He taught me to question all aspects of life, for if you always accepted things at face value, you would eventually get fucked over. He wasn’t the most refined man, but he was my hero. It was hard to see someone’s flaws when they were the protagonist of your life’s story.

“You’re right.” I shrugged.

“Excuse me? Say it a little louder for the people in the back.” He cupped his hand around his ear.

“I said you are right. It’s me. I’m the reason Malcom and I haven’t moved forward in our relationship, not him.”

“Eek! Does this mean we arefinallygoing dress shopping?” David squealed, templing his hands together in front of his face.

“Uh, we can at least window shop and entertain the idea. We’ll take baby steps toward me walking down the aisle.”

“You won’t regret it!”

I caught his fingers as he stepped away, giving them a firm squeeze. “Thank you, Dave.”

“Always. Once you do this, there’s no going back, you know that, right? If you put that ring on, it’s only forward.”

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