Page 23 of It's Love I'm After

“Propose what? Commitment? Cohabitation? What are you talking about?” I ask, adjusting the suit jacket I’m checking out with the tailor.

Essence’s man either doesn’t have family and friends that like or tolerate him, or he’s a yes man who is willing to relinquish complete control of his wedding to Essence. Either way, I think he’s trying too hard because not only am I one of his groomsmen, but so are Jarrod and Desi. I understand including me, but my future brother-in-law doesn’t know Desi or Jarrod from a can of paint to have them standing with him on his big day.

“Better than that, what about Chardonnay makes you believe she’s ready or open to saying yes to a proposal?” Jarrod adds.

“Don’t. Me and Chardonnay are on better terms, so I want to ask her to marry me,” Desi tells us.

“You’re about to lose more than the cost of this suit if you ask that girl to marry you. You’re lucky she agreed to fake dating your ass. Don’t push it.” Jarrod looks Desi up and down before shaking his head while walking away.

“Isn’t my love enough, though?” Desi asks dejectedly while staring at Jarrod’s retreating back.

“This ain’t that, and I don’t want to see you go out bad. Give Chardonnay more time, bro.” Patting Desi on the shoulder, I follow Jarrod's direction, feeling bad for my friend.

My cousin has him in and out of his feelings like she’s in a game of double Dutch, and I hate it for him. I have done my best to steer him away from Chardonnay, but his no-listening wannabe in-love ass refuses to hear anything but Chardonnay’s rants, so it's above me at this point. Pulling my phone from my pocket, I dial my woman’s number, chuckling lightly because she could have me strung out like Desi if I’m not careful.

“Hello, handsome. To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“I’m wondering what you plan to wear to the wedding. I can’t have you not matching my fly and shit.”

“Tuh. You’re reaching, but what are the wedding colors? I’ll find something to blend in,” Chaniya informs me.

“Hold on a second,” I say when another call hits my line, instantly piquing my interest upon seeing the hospital’s number flashing on the screen. “Hello.”

“Hi, Germayne. Dr. Carpenter asked me to call you. There’s a few mothers in active labor, and she needs your assistance,” the scheduling assistant provides after my greeting.

“Okay. I’m on my way.” I speak again when the call ends, resuming the connection with Chaniya. “I’m back. I gotta head to work. If it's not too late and you’re free, I’d like to cook for you again. We can discuss the wedding details then.”

“Ooh. I have Caleb, so tonight isn’t good for me, but call me when you’re able to talk.”

“Say less.”

Dating a single mother comes with challenges, yet those obstacles won’t be the reason Chaniya and I don’t work out.Meeting her made me consider my future and settle down in hopes of finding a woman to commit myself to for a lifetime.

“What’s your relationship with your son’s father like? Y’all get along and shit?”

No matter how often Chaniya and I talk, it’s never enough for me, so I’m always down to sit on the phone with her whenever and however long the opportunity arises. It’s weird because I’m not a man who likes sitting on the phone, talking about everything and nothing. Yet, being with Chaniya makes me cherish every phone conversation and time I get in her presence.

“Nonexistent. Caleb’s father isn’t present. I’m taking care of him by myself with some help from my mom, grandmother, and family. They say it takes a village to raise a child, and I, for one, can attest to the truth within that statement. Without my family, I don’t know what I would do. They’ve never turned their backs on me and are always willing to spend time with Caleb.”

An immediate and deep frown slides into place upon hearing Chaniya’s words because, as a man raised by both parents, I don’t respect any man who doesn’t take care of their child. Having an amazing father, I can value and appreciate what it means to have one, which irks me to know Caleb’s father didn’t step up to help raise him.

“Where is he at? Maybe he needs a little motivation because although his sperm was free, his responsibility isn’t.”

Silence becomes a backdrop after I make my statement, causing my brows to wrinkle when Chaniya doesn’t respond.

“Why are you so quiet, Chaniya?”

“I’m to blame for doing this shit on my own.” Chaniya whispers so low I almost didn’t hear what she said.

“Nah, you did?—”

“I was drunk and slept with three men, and they vanished into thin air, making it impossible for me to track them down for a paternity test.” Chaniya’s spiel is aggressive, with a hint of hurt and sadness that pinches my heart.

I don’t know which makes me madder: Chaniya blaming herself or the careless men who didn’t strap up despite the risky behavior.

“Man, fuck that. You didn’t fuck yourself, no matter how many people you entertained. Those niggas had a responsibility to, at minimum, cover their dick that night. This ain’t all on you, so stop blaming yourself. There has only been one virgin capable of delivering a baby, Chaniya.”

My heavy, deadpan, and aggressive tone can’t be helped due to the fire flowing through my bloodstream.

---