Page 35 of Not A Homie, Lover Or Friend
Her head was slightly tilted to the side as her eyes became glassy. “Don’t cry. Tell me,” I muttered.
She caught her tears, “Failing,” she whispered.
Snap!
“What else?” I asked.
“Losing you and my brother.”
Snap!
“What else?” I said, moving closer.
“Not being loved.”
I paused. These were all valid answers. Answers that I could relate to. However, that shit with losing me and her brother, well, that was something I couldn’t weave out. I was now standing in front of her, and I took her hand into mine. “Hold your hand up,” I instructed her. She held it, and I placed my hand against hers and snapped. I waited until the picture slipped out and shook it. Once it came into both our hands, I gave it to her. “You keep it as a reminder. I’m not your homie, lover, or friend, Sukalati. I’m your husband, and as long as you're honest with me. There for me, I will be all that for you and more. Do you hear me?”
She smiled, “Yes.”
I kissed her lips. “I want to teach you something. Consider this your first lesson. I want you to say, oute alofa ia te oe.”
She laughed. “A what and what.”
I smiled. “Let me slow it down. Oo-teh,” I paused. “Say it,” I added.
“Oo- teh.”
“Ah-lo-fah.”
She moved her head in response to the sound. “Ah-lo-fah.”
“Good girl. Ee ah teh o-eh.”
She smacked her lips, “You're going too fast. Slow down.”
I dropped my head and laughed. “I mean, damn, how slow do you want me to go. Ok, ee-ah-teh o-eh h,” I moved my lips slowly for her.
“Ee -ah- teh o-eh.”
I nodded. “Ok, let’s put it together. Oute alofa ia te oe. Just let that shit roll off your tongue.”
“Oute alofa ia te oe,” she said perfectly.
The shit made a nigga feel good, like it was real. I knew it would mean something in due time, but hearing her say it in this moment felt good.
She caught my eye, “Did I say it right?”
“Yes. Yes, you did.”
“What did I say?” she asked curiously.
I was debating if I wanted to bullshit around the question, but the more I gazed into her pretty ass eyes, I couldn’t lie. “I love you,” I muttered.
In her eyes, I was telling her what she had just learned, which was true, but in my eyes, I was actually telling her how I felt. She looked away, then back at me. “Is that how you feel?” she asked.
I smiled. “I—”
I paused as her eyes and mine both shot toward the door. I quickly looked at her, “You called your brother?”
