Page 40 of Do Me
“I design computer networks for small and large companies.” He shared his educational background and told how long he’d been in the field. The rapid-fire questions continued, ranging from information about his family to hobbies. Braxton answered them all without missing a beat.
Mr. Grant leaned forward in his chair and clasped his hands together. “What are your intentions toward my daughter?”
He didn’t hesitate. “I love Londyn and I plan to ask her to marry me…with your permission, of course.”
A smile broke out on the man’s face and he chuckled. “You say with my permission, but your expression clearly says you’re going to ask her whether I like it or not.”
“No disrespect intended, sir, but yes, I am. I will love her, protect her, cherish her and above all respect her as long as I draw breath.”
Mr. Grant stood and extended his hand. “None taken, and you have my blessing. I’ve waited a long time for my baby girl to find someone like you. I don’t have to worry about her now.”
Braxton followed suit, clasping the man’s hand and grinned. “You won’t ever have to worry about her.”
He nodded and clapped Braxton on the shoulder. “Welcome to the family, son.”
“Thanks.”
Breakfast was a leisurely affair that reminded Braxton of his own family gatherings. Mrs. Grant and his mother were so similar, he instinctively knew the two women would get along well. She had blushed with his compliments, while Londyn rolled her eyes. They lingered at the table for another hour laughing and talking before saying their goodbyes.
“Braxton, it was so nice to finally meet you. You’ll have to come back for dinner soon,” Mrs. Grant said, her arm hooked in his as they walked out to his car.
“Does that invitation include me, too, Mom?” Londyn asked. “You were so interested in Braxton, you barely remembered I was here.”
“Oh, baby, of course you’re included.”
Hugs and promises to return were made, then Braxton and Londyn headed to Piedmont Park.
“I told you my mom was going to be all over you,” Londyn grumbled. “Giggling like you were her date, instead of mine. ‘Oh, Braxton, this old outfit,’” she mimicked in falsetto. The comment had been in response to Braxton telling her how nice she looked.
“Aw, baby, don’t hate.”
She rolled her eyes, but couldn’t hide her smile. “I’m thinking I should get something for feeling like an outcast with my own parents.”
He slanted her a quick glance. “I’ll get you anything you want.”
“Anything?I’m going to think real hard about it, too, because it has to be something better than good.”
Braxton threw his head back and roared with laughter. He turned up the music and hummed along, knowing he already had something better than good in store. He parked and went around to the passenger side of the car to help Londyn out.
“I thought you said we were having a picnic,” Londyn said, eying him curiously.
He flashed her a grin. “We are.”
“I didn’t see any food.” She peered into the backseat.
Smiling, he ran a finger down her nose. “That’s because I did everything while you were asleep.” He opened the trunk by remote and removed a soft-side cooler and roll-up picnic blanket with an attached carrying strap. “How about we go for a walk first?” he asked, closing the trunk.
“That’s fine. I’ll take the blanket.”
Once inside the park, they opted for one of the walking trails. Reaching for her free hand, he entwined their fingers and they started on a leisurely stroll. As they walked, neither of them attempted to initiate conversation. He assumed, just like him, she preferred to savor the warm spring afternoon. A gentle breeze blew across Braxton’s face and he experienced a peace and contentment he’d never known. After a while, they retraced their steps and sought out a spot for their picnic and decided to spread their blanket under the shade of a large oak tree.
Londyn glanced around the park. “Mmm, this is nice, peaceful. What’s for lunch?”
Braxton unearthed bowls filled with fixings for her favorite shrimp Caesar salad, fruit, French baguette slices, and sparkling lemonade. “I didn’t know what your mom intended to prepare for breakfast, so I fixed something light. It’s a good thing, too.” Her mother had made thick Belgian waffles with warm homemade maple syrup, fluffy scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage, fruit, and yogurt.
“Yeah, she kind of went overboard. I should’ve packed up a few of those waffles to take home.” She popped a grape in her mouth.
“Since homemade bread isn’t my forte, we’ll have to make do with the store-bought kind.”
