Page 36

Eighteen minutes passed us by before we were coming to a complete stop at our destination. Our palms had grown sweaty against one another. We parted momentarily and rejoined before entering Yama , a sophisticated hippy spot that I’d heard great things about but had never gotten the chance to visit.

Hand-in-hand, we entered and were immediately instructed to follow our host. We were led up a spiraling staircase that was wrapped in warm lights and greenery. Low, ambient music played throughout the entire establishment.

Daniel, our host, pushed open the steel door and instantly, the music ceased.

A comforting silence met us on the restaurant’s rooftop.

I stepped out, fully immersing myself in the liberation I was experiencing.

The altitude was a swift emotional and mental booster.

It also acted as a dose of serotonin. Or, maybe it was the man I was staring at, just a few feet away from me, smiling as I swayed my hips in the open air.

My fluidity allowed me to move freely on the pavement the rooftop was made of. And, as if the moment couldn’t get any better, the sound of a saxophone serenaded me. All of me.

My movements.

My heart.

My head.

My big, big feelings.

My vulnerability.

And, all of the fears that accompanied the sheer act of allowing a man into your world. Your already perfect world, knowing he had the power to destroy every bit of sanity and security you’d established for yourself.

Emotions mounted as I finally came to terms with the fact that this was new territory.

It was dangerous territory. It was risky territory.

And, I was here. Knee deep. Ready to truly experience womanhood and partnership, even though my bloom was late.

Delayed. Stalled. Stilled. I was ready now. Fully. Wholly. Completely.

You’re not a baby, Rome. You’re my baby. There’s a difference .

Saint stood near the table that had been prepared for us with his hands collapsed in front of him. A smile that reached his eyes kept my feet grounded from the heaviness of my heart. Candles surrounded us. Fire flicked in my chest and on the wicks of the candles. It danced, matching my movements.

Until I could no longer stand the distance between us.

Until I couldn’t fathom another second without him by my side.

Until I desperately wanted his lips against mine.

His hands on my skin.

His erection inside of me.

Claiming me.

Marking me.

Introducing me to a world of newness.

Beginning a new chapter in my story .

I pressed my heel into the ground, halting all movement. Labored breathing lifted and caved my chest dramatically.

Clap.

Clap.

Clap.

Clap.

My feet moved across the openness, unstoppable. It wasn’t until I was in front of him. I spread my arms, bowed my head, and bent my knees.

Bowing.

Gracefully.

Happily.

Willingly.

Not for the moment, alone, but for the person I was sharing it with as well.

“Thank you.”

“Beautiful, baby.”

Saint pulled out a chair, extending his hand and silently instructing me to sit. I obliged, taking my seat. He took his as well. Right across the table. But, still, too far .

I laid my arm across the table. Even with my mother’s chastising words for lacking table manners appearing in the back of my head, I pushed forward, requesting Saint’s hand. Rescuing me from the cold of his absence, his fingertips warmed my entire frame.

Slowly, he ran them along my skin. His eyes were on me. My heart was on him. Heavily. Happily.

Unable to match his gaze, my eyes lowered. He was too good. He was too real. He was too perfect. I stared at the wood on the table, realizing we hadn’t been given menus.

“Don’t worry your head, Mellow. It’s taken care of.”

As the words left his mouth, our waitress appeared.

“Water, ma’am.”

She lowered a glass of water in front of me.

“And, for you sir, an Old Fashion.”

“Thank you,” Saint replied, eyes still fixed on me.

“And– your appetizer. Your dinner will be out shortly.”

“No drink for me?”

“You’re not a drinker, Rome.”

“You noticed?” I chuckled.

“I did. You ordered two drinks on our first date and had the hardest time getting down the first one. The second one was picked up with the rest of our food.”

I nodded, confirming the details as I lifted the silver lid from the appetizer of Saint’s choice.

“You caught me. I’m n–”

Words lodged in my throat. My lips pursed as I squinted to read the perfectly scribed words around the entire rim of the white glass dish.

Be mine, Mellow. The top half of the rim read.

The saxophone grew louder, now accompanied by a violin, playing the most beautiful melody. While it felt familiar, I couldn’t place a finger on it. I couldn’t place a finger on anything but the words I was staring at.

In this lifetime . The bottom half read.

Saint’s fingers never stopped caressing my skin as his words did the same for my heart.

My eyes pricked with elation and sadness and joy and fear and peace and relief and all the other things I was feeling inside.

I stared at the messenger through blurry eyes, yet I could see him clearly.

I could hear him, though he hadn’t said a word.

And, I could feel him. Always had. In every lifetime.

“Said I promise to never fall in love with a stranger. You’re all I’m thinking of. I praise the Lord above. For sending me your love. I cherish every hug,” Saint sang lowly, drawing circles on my arm.

He sounded like shit. I knew, and so did he. But, he made the words of the song flow in my head.

“All my life. I prayed for someone like you. And, I thank God that I finally found you.”

Chuckling, I diverted my eyes momentarily. But, his presence didn’t let me linger for long. My eyes were back on him in seconds.

“I’m thinking, right here… right now… I make my intentions very clear, Rome,” he confessed, “I want you to be mine. Not just on the weekends. Not just during the season. Not just when either of us feels like it. Not just when we’re happy.

Not just when we need someone in our corner.

But, always. Every day. The good ones. The bad ones. All of them.

“And, once we get into the hang of this thing, fall head over heels for one another, and know we’re ready– I want to make you my wife.

Then, the mother of my children. And, lastly, the woman I retire next to.

Mellow, will you be mine? I don’t remember the others, but I’d appreciate a reminder in this lifetime.

Show me why I should search for you sooner next time. Find you faster. Wait for you longer.”

Tears stained my cheeks. I swiped them with urgency. They were few, but they were humbling. I’d often imagined my wait was in vain. Though discernment assured me it wasn’t, it got lonely and loud sometimes. But, here he was, proving I wasn’t wrong and that everything would be alright now.

“What you say, Rome? Think we can make each other’s dreams come true– together ?”

I nodded, cleaning my face.

“Yes. Yes, we can.”

It was happening for me. He was happening for me.

Saint stood up and rounded the table. He kneeled before me and took my hand into his. I observed as he waited for my emotions to settle and my composure to be collected. Once I was ready, he began.

“I need you to hear me when I say that I can be everything you’ve ever dreamt I was and more. Not just because this is your new reality and I’m entitled to your space and energy, but because I’m real. My heart is real. My life is real. My adoration for you is real. My desire to be with you is real.

“My yearning to be around you is real. My anticipation for a life together is real. My happiness when you’re near is real.

And the fact that I won’t be on my knees too many more times before asking you to be my wife is real.

So, enjoy this phase while it lasts because it won’t last too long. I feel it right here.”

He lifted my hand and pressed it against his rapidly beating chest.

“I’m falling, Rome, and I’m not looking for a motherfucker to save me from where I’m headed. I like it here. As long as you’re the destination.”

“Keep falling,” I advised, “Until you feel what I’ve always felt.”

“Say no more, baby,” he responded as he kissed my cheek.

He rose and traveled the short distance to his side of the table. When he finally sat down, he exhaled the breath he’d been holding. A smile planted itself right on his face.

I chuckled. “Were you afraid I’d deny you?”

He shook his head. “Partly, but it hardly would’ve mattered.”

“Is that so?”

I popped a piece of meat into my mouth.

“I didn’t need your permission for you to be mine, but it is good to have it,” he explained, “Damn good to have it.”

His words silenced me as I toyed with the grilled gator bites that were drizzled in a sriracha-like sauce. It wasn’t spicy but it wasn’t bland either. It was perfect. However, my appetite had fallen off the edge of the building upon realizing what the plate read.