Page 47 of Cuffed By Your Love
Kenya grinned. “Period.”
Elias tapped his bottle. “Ours.”
I blinked. “Bold of you.”
He didn’t flinch. “Accurate.”
When the matte black bottles came back etched in gold, I felt dizzy with a weird, tender pride, like we’d made proof of something we were afraid to name.
I thought we were done until a velvet curtain slid open and revealed a private dining space glowing warm as a memory. There were bronze candleholders, white linen, crystal catching light, and a bottle of chardonnay sweating diamonds in its bucket. Steam curled from silver platters, shrimp scampi swimming in lemon garlic butter, toasted garlic bread, and blistered asparagus with sea salt.
I pressed my hand to my chest. “Elias.”
He pulled out my chair like it was second nature. “You thought I’d let you leave here smelling like heaven without feeding you, baby?”
The first bite had me closing my eyes. The tender shrimp, lemon bright, butter lush, the garlic wrapping around my tongue like a secret I wanted to keep. When I opened my eyes, he was watching me like the meal was secondary to my smile.
“What?” I fought a grin, swallowing.
“Just cataloguing,” he said. “That face you make when you feel safe? I’m trying to memorize it.”
That hit harder than the chardonnay.
I tried to play it cool, twirling pasta on my fork. “You say that like you’re not the reason for it.”
He leaned back, eyes dark and steady. “Good. Then I’m doing my job.”
I tilted my head. “Your job?”
His gaze didn’t waver. “Protect. Provide. Be your peace. That’s what I signed up for the second I decided you weren’t just some woman I was passing time with.”
Heat spread through me, sharp and sweet, like cinnamon blooming in hot cream. I set my fork down, pulse racing. “You… you really see me like that?”
“Jonay.” He said my name in such a serious tone. “I don’t see you. I study you. The way you always got yellow somewhere on you. The way you light up when you’re creating. The way you take care of everybody else before yourself. I see all of that, and I’m telling you now, there’s no running from me. You’re it for me. End of story.”
I couldn’t even breathe for a second. My heart was hammering so loud I was sure he heard it echoing off the walls.
The words hit bone. I set my fork down and let myself lean into this, into him. We ate and talked like we’d been doing it for years, no performative small talk, no forced stories. He told me about EJ’s new favorite pajamas, how he insists Spider-Man will be a cop when he grows up, how Elias learned to braid because YouTube taught him and love demanded it. I told him about how law enforcement didn’t really feel right.
He leaned forward, elbows on the table, his voice dropping low enough to curl right around my spine. “What’s your dream, gorgeous? Not the safe one. The one you scared to say out loud.”
The question cracked something open in me. I told him about wanting to grow my little bath and body brand into a storefront. About how I dreamed of creating a space where women like me could walk in, mix scents, and leave feelingpowerful. About how I wanted EJ, and maybe one day, my own kids, to see me build something from scratch, brick by brick.
He didn’t laugh. Didn’t brush it off. He just nodded slowly, eyes locked on mine like every word was gospel.
He never looked away. Even when I dropped my eyes, I could feel him there, steady.
“That’s not a dream, baby,” he said finally, pouring me more wine. “That’s a plan. Write the list. I’ll help with the rest. You bring vision. I’ll bring structure and safety. That’s partnership.”
My throat got tight. “You mean that?”
“Gorgeous.” His lips quirked into a smile that felt like sunrise. “I don’t say shit I don’t mean, especially when it comes to you.”
Something in me, timid, bruised, always ready to run, sat down and unclenched.
After dinner, the music softened. Sade’s voice poured like honey in a dim glass. He took my hand with a patience that felt like leadership, not control, and led me to a velvet bench tucked under the Edison glow.
He stretched an arm along the backrest, the other warm across my shoulders, fingers tracing little circles that calmed me in increments. We breathed together a while, the kind of together that didn’t need filling.
