Page 114 of Misconception (Unrequited 2)

“Well” —I bumped his arm with my shoulder— “I’m thinking I might propose to my husband. What do you think the chances are of him saying yes?”

He bumped me back, again, taking me by surprise. “I’d say very good.”

I had come up with this idea while in bed a week ago. Mo had made all these beautiful gestures, while all I’d done is take and take. All he had asked of me was to make our relationship public and official, and while that was scary as shit, I had to push back the fear and be who he needed. And he needed to feel as secure as I did. I wasn’t going anywhere, but if being married would make him happy, make him feel steady, stable, I could give that to him.

But first, coffee. Then work. Then I’d get my pregnant self down on one knee and propose to my man.

Devon was seated at a table on the sidewalk, sipping his coffee. He stood when I walked up with Mac by my side, inclining his head.

His eyes raked over me. “Smalls, you’re not so small anymore.”

I pointed to his head. “Your hairline seems to be moving. You should look into that.”

He laughed, but I knew him. He’d be studying himself in the mirror as soon as he left here.

I’d changed my mind about coffee, so I took the seat across from him while Mac sat down at the table next to us.

“How are you?” Devon asked.

“Excellent. Why are you in the city?” As far as I knew, he currently resided in L.A.

“Meeting with the label. I’m thinking of taking a hiatus. Get my shit together, that kind of thing. Can’t have you more together than I am.”

I laughed, using my fingernail to scrape a loose piece of paint from the wrought iron table. “I didn’t realize we were in competition. If we were, I won a long time ago.”

He huffed. “No kidding. You always were the best of us, Mickey. Even when we were kids.”

I hated when he got nostalgic, especially since he wasn’t the boy I’d once loved with my whole heart. He’d turned into a man I could barely stand.

Needing to move this along, I asked, “I heard something about a present?”

Something in his handsome, confident face crumpled. I didn’t know what he’d been expecting from me. A warm reception? An ear to listen to his worries? As he had said, he was no longer my confidant, and I was no longer his.

He placed a gift bag on the table. “I don’t know what you’re having, so I hope this works. I saw it in an ad, figured your kid needed it.”

“A girl. We’re having a girl.” I picked up the bag and placed it in my lap. “Should I open it now?”

“Yeah.” His mouth quirked into a sad smile. “I’d like to know if I did good this time around.”

Moving tissue paper aside, I reached in and pulled out a small wooden drum. Next, I found a bear-shaped shaker, also made of wood. And there was a rainbow-colored castanet and a stirring xylophone. All of it top quality, of course. I wouldn’t expect anything less from Devon. But it was surprisingly thoughtful. My eyes pricked with tears. I had to press my lips together to keep them at bay.

“Good?” he asked softly.

I nodded, touching each tiny instrument carefully.

“I thought if we’d had a kid together, I’d want it to have stuff like this. I bet you’ll have Nina Simone Sundays in your house.”

Lifting my head, I released a watery laugh. “I hope so. Thank you, Dev. This is perfect.”

There was something truly bittersweet about this moment. We’d both moved on forever ago, but this felt like this final piece of closure we needed to release what was never going to be again.

We only stayed for a minute or two more before we got up from the table. I handed the gift to Mac and gave Devon a hug.

“Thank you. I hope you get your shit together,” I murmured.

He barked a laugh and stepped out of my embrace to lay his hand on my stomach. “Glad you found your way, Smalls. This looks really good on you. You’re going to be a kickass mama.”

I cocked my head, my mouth twisting. “You think?”

---