Page 44 of My Only (My First, My Last)

“You should’ve told me that, though,” Hassani spoke softly, his hand running up my thigh. “You should’ve said something. I would’ve figured it out. We would’ve figured it out.”

His touch was warm. Reassuring.

“Don’t do that again, aight?”

I nodded.

“If I can’t make the mistake of not listening to you about people and situations ever again,” he added, “then you can’t keep things to yourself like that, okay?”

“Okay,” I echoed.

“No matter how big or small you think it is…” Hassani pressed his hand to the side of my face. “Tell me.”

“Okay, then…” I swallowed, steadying myself. “I stopped taking my pills.”

Hassani’s brows wrinkled.

I’d been holding this in since my OB-GYN appointment, but right now?

This felt like the right time to say it.

“I got the prescription to refill my birth control, but I haven’t picked it up… and I don’t want to.”

His reaction was instant.

“Good.” He winked. “Don’t pick it up.”

Then, softly, he pinched my chin.

“We don’t need them anymore, anyway.” His smile bloomed, and so did mine. “‘Cause you know… we got babies to make. Lots and lots of babies.”

I laughed as his thumb brushed my cheek.

“Man, see?” He kissed his teeth. “This would’ve been a dope ass story to tell our kids.”

I squinted, confused.

“How their big sister or brother was made in a hotel on wheels, but noooo .” He playfully rolled his eyes. “‘We gotta listen to Dr. Aldridge,’ Ayla says. ‘It’ll be good,’ she says.”

I burst out laughing.

“Unless… you know…” he mused, his voice low and tempting.

His eyes flicked toward the private room.

Then, his brows jumped.

I laughed even harder.

We didn’t have sex that night.

Instead, we finished the movie—this time with me curled up in Hassani’s arms—before falling asleep and him carrying me to bed.

The next morning, I woke to the gentle movement of the RV.

I blinked my eyes open and stretched my arm to my right, feeling the bed was empty beside me.

Frowning, I sat up, my gaze drifting forward.

Through the window, I watched as trees rushed by.

We were moving.

I got out of bed, padding across the wood floors, struggling to keep my balance as I made my way to the front of the RV.

And there, behind the wheel sat Hassani.

Hands gripping the steering wheel, focus locked on the road.

“What’s going on?” I rasped, my voice still thick with sleep.

He peeked over his shoulder, grinning. “Good morning, sleepyhead.”

I plopped down in the passenger seat, hooking my seatbelt.

“Good morning to you too,” I muttered, rubbing my face.

Then, I frowned.

“Shouldn’t you be a sleepyhead too? Where are we going?”

Hassani smirked. “We need to drop off the RV at its partner location.”

“Drop off the RV?”

“Yeah.”

I stared at him. “We’re not driving back to New York?”

His smirk widened. “We are not driving back to New York.”

I leaned forward, narrowing my eyes. “Hassani, what is going on?”

He laughed.

“It’s a surprise.”

He glanced at me. “Just go back there, do what you do in the bathroom, and be ready to go when we drop off the RV.”

I didn’t move. Still suspicious.

“You trust me, right?” he asked, shooting me a quick glance before refocusing on the road.

“Of course.”

“Then go on and do what I said. Let me maintain the surprise, woman.” He shot another look my way. “Go.”

I snickered as I unhooked my seatbelt and headed to the bathroom.

I went through my routine, and at the end of it, gathered my chunky twists—the ones I twisted yesterday before the movie—into a messy bun.

Rinsing my face with cool water and showering in the RV’s shower stall.

By the time I was done, I heard the RV’s reverse beeper, signaling Hassani was backing up.

Stepping out of the bathroom, I watched him unbuckle and rise from his seat.

“You ready?” he asked.

I smirked. “Ready for what… I don’t know.”

Hassani just grinned.

I was so confused as Hassani and I made our way to the RV rental office, handing over the RV keys.

“We got everything off the RV, right?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I confirmed. “I double-checked before stepping out.”

“Aight, cool.”

He pulled out his phone, tapping away.

I squinted. “You’re driving me crazy with the suspense, baby.”

We stood in the lot, surrounded by other luxury RVs—each one just as beautiful as the one we’d spent the past week in, calling it home.

Hassani tucked his phone into his back pocket.

“Car will be here in ten minutes,” he informed me. “You wanna wait inside?”

I gave him a pointed look.

“ I wanna …” I said, mimicking his voice dramatically.

Hassani burst out laughing.

“…know what the hell is going on.”

He wrapped an arm around my shoulders, pulling me in. “I’m flying you out.”

My brows shot up. “Wait, what?”

“Remember when I told you Bryant said I could take two weeks off?”

“ Uh-huh .”

“Well,” he started, “we just spent the first week on a road trip… now we’re gonna spend the next week somewhere very familiar.”

I gasped so hard my ears rang. “What?! Where?!”

Hassani just grinned. “Somewhere very familiar.”

I clutched my chest. “Oh my God, Hassani! Just tell me where we’re going.”

He tucked his lips into his mouth and shook his head. All I could do was laugh.

Last year, we hadn’t gone on our annual summer trip.

This year, I worried it would be the same.

But now…

First, he took me on a road trip. And now we were flying out to… somewhere familiar?!

I was beside myself.

Where on earth was this somewhere familiar ?

For the next few minutes, as we waited for our black car, I peppered him with questions.

“Is it somewhere warm?”

“Of course.”

“By a beach?”

“ Definitely by a beach.” He smirked. “That’s why I told you to pack swimsuits.”

My stomach fluttered. “I totally forgot about that! I thought it was a little weird when you told me to pack swimsuits for a road trip, but I just rolled with it.”

I’d been dreaming about stretching out under the sun and letting my skin glow.

Ever since I found my camera and saw the honeymoon photos, the urge to be a beach bunny had only grown stronger.

The black car pulled up in front of us.

“Come on.” Hassani took my hand. “We have a flight to catch.”

The ride to the airport was short.

It wasn’t until we stepped out of the car that I realized something.

“Wait…” I looked around. “We’re in Florida?”

Hassani chuckled. “Yup.”

I blinked. “When did we get to Florida ?!”

He smirked, shutting the car door after thanking the driver.

“Where we parked the RV last night was in a town that borders Florida,” he explained. “I drove a little through the night so we could make this flight.”

My heart melted.

I knew I couldn’t love this man any more than I already did… but then he went and did things like this .

“Baby,” I whispered, still in awe. “I can’t believe we’re flying out somewhere, and I have no idea where we’re going. But I’m so stoked!”

He hooked an arm around my neck and pressed a kiss to my forehead. “Anything for you.”

Taking my hand, he said, “Let’s get checked in and grab our tickets before we miss the flight.”

We made our way to the check-in desk, then approached the flight board.

Hassani leaned down, his lips brushing my ear.

“Our flight number is DL421,” he murmured. “Tell me where we’re going.”

I squinted up at the departure board, scanning for the number.

Then my eyes grew like saucers.

ST. LUCIA.

I gasped.

Then, even harder.

I turned and jumped into Hassani’s arms.

He caught me, laughing, as I covered his face in kisses.

People around us chuckled softly, watching our public display of joy.

“I love you.”

Hassani pecked my lips once. “I love you.”

My feet hit the ground as we grabbed our tickets.

As we approached TSA, I looked up at him, still in disbelief. “Saint Lucia, baby?”

He winked. “Saint Lucia, baby.”

The airport buzzed with its usual chaos.

Flight announcements echoing.

Travelers rushing to gates.

But inside, I felt light.

Like I was floating.

I was in a dream, living and loving every second of it.

Hassani and I grabbed our things after making it through TSA.

He draped an arm over my shoulder as we headed to our gate, me talking a mile a minute, still riding the high of finding out Saint Lucia was our destination—completely unaware he’d slid my passport into his carry-on days ago before we left for our road trip.

Somewhere in the background noise, I heard a laugh.

A very familiar laugh—one I could pick out in even the loudest of places, including an airport.

I stopped walking immediately and froze.

My head turned toward the sound, my brows furrowing.

Hassani frowned. “What’s up?”

I heard it again.

And this time, I knew exactly who it belonged to.

My Aunt Laurie.

Standing at a coffee kiosk, laughing that signature, infectious laugh of hers.

The one that always reminded me of Jackée Harry’s.

“Oh my God… is that Aunt Laurie?!”

Hassani whipped his head around, following my gaze.

“That is her.” I inhaled a deep breath, cupped my hands around my mouth, and yelled, “Aunt Laurie!”

She turned her head, her long, sleek hair whipping through the air.

Her eyes widened, and that gigantic, pageant-winning grin she always had—the one that reminded me of Whitney Houston’s signature smile—took over her face.

I didn’t even think.

I took off running.

Aunt Laurie did the same, meeting me halfway, and when we finally collided, she wrapped her arms so tight around me I could barely breathe.

“Favorite Girl!” she shrieked. “What the fuck?!”

I hollered a laugh, stepping back to take her in.

My eyes scanned her, from her perfectly styled hair to the flowy, low-cut sundress she wore so effortlessly.

My aunt, in her late fifties, looked amazing—not a day over forty.

“You look fabulous .”

“And you look gorgeous . My goodness, you sex kitten,” She ran a hand down my twists, then over my shoulders. Her eyes narrowed playfully. “Your hips got rounder, ass fatter… and my goodness, these boobs are looking so full with your sexy self. Look at my girl!”

I leaned my head back in a laugh. “What the hell are you doing here?”