Page 82 of Anyone But You
I considered his offer.
A bougie week in Miami with my girls sounds fun as hell, but I don’t know if I want to be away from Knox that long. Fuck it. I don’t know if I can be away from him that long. The thought of him even going to the office without me drives me up the wall. Ya girl might have a little separation anxiety.
“I’ll see,” I said noncommittally.
“Good. The dough is proved.”
“Already?”
“I used fast-rising yeast, and now that you’re unofficially officially part of the family, I can let you in on all my pizza-making secrets.”
* * *
“That’s right, Bernadine! Tell him! Get your shit and get out!” Knox yelled at the projector screen, pointing at the door. I side-eyed him and found the man sitting on the edge of his seat as Angela Bassett tore her trifling-ass husband’s closet down. He glanced at me before returning his attention to the screen.“Can you believe that asshole? How can he do that to her after everything she’s done? Fill the wagon up, Bernie!”
I smiled.
“Did you know that this scene was improvised?”
“Really?” he questioned, not taking his eyes off the screen.
“Yes, sir.”
“That’s fucking impressive. I know she won an Oscar for this scene alone.”
“Nope!”
He paused the movie and turned in his seat to face me. “Don’t piss me off, Victoria.”
I shrugged with my palms up. “She didn’t win an Oscar; however, she did win the NAACP Award for Best Lead Actress in a Motion Picture.”
“Fucking bullshit,” he muttered. I nearly dropped my slice of pizza when he jumped and yelled, “That’s right! Burn…his…shit!”
“All right. I think that’s enough culture for you tonight. Let’s go to bed.”
“But we’re not finished.”
“It’s late. We can finish it tomorrow,” I said, gathering our plates and glasses. Reluctantly, he followed me out of the theater and left to shower while I loaded the dishwasher. Once I finished, I had finally gotten around to sending a much-needed message to my sisters.
659-8774, 961-2130:I’m back, and we need to talk.
* * *
I breezed into our bedroom and was hit with the warm scent of Knox’s body wash wafting from the en suite bathroom. It was a far cry from seawater, sweat, and unavoidable body odor.
“Take it easy on the pillows,” he teased, limping out of thebathroom. I ignored him and launched another pillow across the room.
“All these damn pillows are annoying,” I replied sleepily.
“I get it. I’m the only pillow you need,” he said, helping me turn down the comforter.
And he’s right.
“Sure. Did you take care of your wound?”
“I did, and you can stop asking me. Trust me, no one is more invested in keeping my leg than I am.”
Oop! Well, shut my mouth!
