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Priest nodded his head as he rose from the bed. He wrapped a fresh towel around his waist as he made his way over to her. He lifted her head up, redirecting her gaze. "I know that, and I never thought otherwise." He smiled down at her before applying a kiss to her forehead.

Britain wrapped her arms around him, resting her head on his chest. She feared his perception of her may have been altered. Seeing all the horrible and bare minimum actions she used to accept would have caused any other guy to look at her differently. Priest wasn't about to let her confusion about what love should feel like dictate how he would treat her. He respected her completely, and if anything, seeing the way she took charge of her life after enduring such low moments made him respect and cherish her more.

"Remember what I told you. I'm here to build and strengthen you, be your backbone, not strip you of it," he refreshed her memory of the promise he made to her. "That'll never change."

Chapter Nineteen

It was the top of the morning, and Priest managed to wake up and get himself together. Despite being happy Britain was back home, he just couldn't find it within himself to sleep in, and neither could Britain, who woke up pretty early as well. His concentration that was once fixed on the joint he was rolling had quickly drifted away at the sound of Britain stepping out of the shower. He sat his rolling tray down, dusting any of the stray fragments of weed off his Amiri jeans. Making entry into the bathroom where she wrapped herself in a fresh towel, he eyed her.

"You're being mad clingy right now," she said with a smirk, trying her best to mock his usual response whenever she would be the one all over him.

Priest scoffed carelessly with a shrug. "Shut up.”

She chortled lightly while navigating to the set of Jack and Jill sinks that decorated the bathroom. To continue her usual routine, she attempted to reach for her shea butter, but Priest beat her to it. "I didn't ask for your help," she teased.

"I offered," he stated. She gazed at him through the mirror, watching as he melted the shea butter with the warmth of hishands. "Drop the fucking towel, Brit," he ordered in a serious tone.

Finding him amusing, she released a stream of laughter, and Priest joined in. Nonetheless, she did as he requested, dropping the towel. Giving her his full attention, he moisturized every inch of her body. He even took it a step further by slowly kneading his thumbs into the small of her back and her shoulders. She was in a pure state of relaxation at his touch.

She leaned her head back to rest it on his chest. This caused him to crane down and place two light kisses onto her lips. "I'm happy you agreed to meet with Havani.”

Britain smiled lightly with a nod. "I trust her because of how much you trust her. Hopefully she doesn't think I'm clinically insane. Then you would have to place me in a psych ward," she said with a giggle as if there was a possibility of it happening.

Priest smacked his lips. "If you were that crazy, I would have been peeped game and left you right where I met you," he jokingly shook his head.

"P, you would have missed out on your biggest blessing," she stated with an arrogant smirk etching her face.

He locked eyes with her reflection in the mirror, his orbs searing into her deeply. Noticing his gaze, she instinctively grew nervous about her bare body that was on full display. She attempted to lift her towel to place it across her chest in hopes of shielding her breasts, but he stopped her. He took the moment to just gaze at her, his eyes full of love and adoration. He craned his head down, resting it on her shoulder before his arms draped her waist.

"I really would have," he stated, agreeing that she was his biggest blessing. "You should go get dressed," he suggested.

Britain nodded her head before he placed a light kiss on her cheek. He released her from his hold, handing her the towel that she had placed on the counter. She wrapped herself in the towelonce more before leading the way out of the bathroom. As she entered their wardrobe, he returned to his seat on the couch that decorated a portion of their bedroom. He continued to roll his joint as she skimmed through her racks of clothes, trying to find an outfit suitable to meet the highly spoken of Havani.

"So, what should I expect? Is she young or older?" Britain popped her head out of the closet to ask him.

Priest chuckled at her questions. "She's cool. Older than us, but I wouldn't say she's up there in age with our parents," he clarified.

"Does she get deep? I don't wanna cry and ruin my makeup." Britain curled her bottom lip in a pout as she held out a dress, awaiting his opinion on it.

Priest eyed the dress before ultimately shaking his head. She returned the dress to the rack she had pulled it from as she listened to his response.

"Havani only gets as deep as you allow her to. She doesn't want anything to be forced. If you want to pour your heart out in your first session, she's okay with it. If you just want to sit there in silence for forty-five minutes, she's okay with that too. But depending how touchy your trauma is, be prepared to cry one of these days," he explained since he was far more familiar with Havani's work.

Britain nodded her head, liking what she was hearing about Havani so far. "You gonna sit through it with me?”

Priest looked up from his perfectly rolled joint, shaking his head. "She suggested I not do that. You'll be fine, though," he assured Britain.

Britain nodded her head as she continued to look for something nice to wear. Eventually, she settled on a pair of formfitting distressed jeans and her “Humans of New York” sweatshirt. She figured she shouldn't bother trying to look too nice since she was expecting to be in tears by the end ofthe session. She was going in with an open mind. Old Britain wouldn't have even let the thought of a counseling session cross her mind, but she was trying to be better, and in order to do that, she had to actually do better.

She opted on getting dressed prior to doing her makeup since she was going to keep her face as simple as possible. After enhancing her brows, passing mascara through her lashes and dashing her lips with gloss she was all set to go. Priest, who had taken the time to smoke his joint, pressed the burning tip of it against the rolling tray, putting it out. "Ready?" he asked while gazing at her through hooded eyes.

Britain nodded her head as she touched her neck to ensure it was laced with her necklace. Priest noticed her neck was empty, which caused a light chuckle to air out of him.

"You're not ready," he told her as he walked over to the dresser where she had placed the tennis necklace that was decorated with the diamond encrusted'G'pendant. Picking it up, he called her over so he could put it on her. With her back pressed against his front, Britain lifted her hair so he could secure the necklace around her neck. Once it was secured, she felt Priest sit a light kiss on the back of her neck, which caused a schoolgirl-like laugh to ease out of her.

As expected, Priest was showering her with an overwhelming amount of love. He was basking in her presence. Even though she seemed to have forgiven him for going through her memory card, he felt like he had some making up to do also. After thanking him for the kind gestures of aiding her with her necklace and the gentle kiss, Britain and Priest made their exit out of the home.

Upon stepping outside, she caught sight of the car he decided to drive. Ready for the road was her favorite vehicle out of his collection: the Bentley Bentayga. Looking over her shoulder, acheeky smile etched her face. "Why are you being so nice and attentive today?" she asked him after he locked up the home.