Page 121 of The Games We Play
Shanice gets Fierce. Her mom suggested it. Apparently, she loves Beyoncé, but I get the impression she’s copying her mom, which is confirmed when her mom cheers at the Sasha Fierce moniker that I didn’t even know about. I’d rather rip my ears off with a blunt pocketknife than listen to that pop shit.
Dylan gets Cub. “Because one day, you’ll find your roar and become a lion,” I say.
When it’s finally Jadyn’s turn, he gets Dive. “Because you dive right into everything.”
When there is only one larger cut on the table, Iris pauses and looks at me. Her kids are all clamoring to hold onto bits of me ... had to pull my key chain out of my pocket so three of them could hold onto that. I’m out of arms, fingers, and legs. “I can’t believe you did all this,” she says.
“Like I said once, you’d be surprised by what I’d do for you.”
Iris’s eyes glisten with tears as she lifts the final cut.
She knows this life.
She knows what it is before she even turns it over.
Property of Spark.
“You going to wear that, babe? Let everyone know that I’m yours and you’re mine?”
She looks at it. “Is this where we argue about the wrong feminist sh—poop?” But she’s smiling. I know she’s referring to our conversation as we walked around the lake that day up at the cottage.
“It depends how you view being my property.” I manage to break free from the hold of all the kids and cup her cheeks with my hands. “You think it means I own you? Then we can argue. However, if you see it as still being your own person with your own goals, while knowing I’ll be right here—encouraging you to crush every single thing you want to try—then we won’t. I just want you to be mine the whole time you’re doing those amazing things because I love you.”
“That shouldn’t be enough,” she says, her eyes sparkling.
“But is it?” I repeat like I did the very first time she said those words to me.
Instead of answering, she slips her hands through the arm holes until the leather sits on her shoulders.
“Looks good on you, little chick. Check the pocket.”
She does as I say and finds the ring that Kasey helped me pick. A purple sapphire surrounded by small diamonds.
“Will you wear this too? I want to marry you, Iris. Can’t imagine what the next fifty years look like if you aren’t in them with me.”
She takes my hand and runs her fingers over my purple iris tattoo then the four letters of her name across my knuckles. I’m wearing her as much as she’s wearing me.
“Of course I’ll marry you. When she looks up at me with those gorgeous eyes of hers, I’m sunk. “I love you.”
I take the ring from her hand and slide it on her finger. It sparkles in the sunshine, kind of like she does. She steps up on her toes and kisses me while everyone else cheers.
“Thank fuck,” I whisper against her lips, wrapping my arms tight around her. “Because I love you too.”
