Page 56

Chapter Forty-Two

Figuring shit out was a process within itself. What was even harder was actually executing everything. Priest, Kaymen, and J'Ru definitely felt as though they had their work cut out for them, but right now… so far so good.

Priest leaned against the heavy oak table that decorated the back room of the showroom.He accepted the duffle bag from one of his many truck drivers. The weight of the bag was sufficient for now since he had yet to crack the bag open and count what was inside. As he sat the black duffle bag down on the polished wood table, it sounded off with a light thud. He unzipped the bag, revealing the multiple stacks of money that were rubber banded together.

The sight of the crisp blue bills brought a wave of contentment over him, J'Ru and Kaymen. "We might’ve just did something," J'Ru mumbled as he looked over Priest's shoulder at the profit they had just made.

After getting the strip mall in their possession and starting a legitimate outsourcing business and truck driving company, Priest and the guys had finally concluded their first route. Their international imports were now traveling all over the North in sheep's clothing. In their case, it happened to be furniture. They were about to force everyone who wasn't rocking with them into a drought. They had never been so hungry and willing before, but times had changed, and they were playing hard now.This was their first route, and the men were pleased to see everything panned out smoothly. There weren't any more complications or concerns. All they had left to do was stack bands and let the streets do the talking.

"Definitely taking over now," Kaymen added with a proud smirk.

J’Ru took a handful of money from the duffle to get to counting. Kaymen and Priest followed suit, retrieving an equal number of stacks and leaving the bag empty.They took seats at either side of the desk. They each had their individual money counters that were accurate and precise. In unison, they all started their count, being sure to sum up exactly how much they were taxing for their work.

The sound of the money counter breezing through the crisp blue bills brought joy to the men. They were hustling and making shit happen, and it was bigger business than they had ever done before.

Midway through the counting, the men were stopped by another knock on the door. Yet another truck driver had arrived, turning in a duffle bag with just as much bread the last one. Priest thanked him before sending him on his way.

"What's word with your trial?" Kaymen asked Priest, igniting conversation amongst them.

Priest let out a sigh as he wrapped the rubber band around the stack he had just finished counting. "Abraham pulled a few strings to get some of the charges dismissed. As for when it starts back up, still the same time," Priest explained to Kaymen. "That round should be it, so I'm not anticipating that shit as of right now."

"How Britain feeling?" J'Ru inquired. If shit went sour with Priest's trial, J'Ru knew his obligation to Priest would require him to look out for Britain. He didn't mind. She was a cool girl and seemed to have Priest’s interests.

Priest glanced at J'Ru. "She's aware and knows what she needs to do to move on," he shrugged his shoulders. He didn't want to give too many details about their situation simply because he wasn't much of a fan of having people in his game room. He was sure however things worked out, Britain would be good on his watch.

After successfully counting four duffle bags and stashing their profit, Priest decided to call it a day. They had completed all operations for the day and would resume again later that week.

The following day was the day Jamari was to be laid to rest. It had been a full two weeks now, and things had finally aligned perfectly. Priest had an ill feeling about Jamari's funeral. He wasn't sure if his intuition was trying to tell him something or if he just hated the thought of laying someone he loved to rest. Either way, he wanted the feeling to be gone.

"Safety," the three men said to each other, wishing safe travels to wherever they were headed before getting into their respective cars.

Priest pulled his butterfly doors down as he pressed the button to start his vehicle. It felt odd to be heading in the direction of the penthouse around this time since he had grown accustomed to heading to Britain's apartment.

Britain agreed to stay at his place for a little while, and it was definitely an adjustment. Plus, it didn't help that Priest had to take care of business while she stayed behind. The size of the penthouse wasn't the issue. It was the matter of introducing her to Priest's staff whenever they came to do their job. The only people who were truly familiar with Britain were his chef Talia and his security detail.Everyone else seemed shocked to see a woman other than Jazzy and Sylvia in Priest's space. They accepted Britain anyway, treating her just as they would treat Jazzlyn, Priest, or Sylvia.

Priest decided to shoot a call to Britain to ensure she was fine. He had been checking on her periodically, and although her responses never changed, he still called. Britain answered the call mid-laughter.

"I'm fine," she assured Priest as her laughter subsided.

Priest furrowed his brows. "That's good to hear, but what's so funny if I ain't crack the joke?" he jested with some light laughter of his own.

Britain smacked her lips jokingly. "You're not that funny, especially not as funny as your sister," she told him.

Priest chuckled. "Oh, word? That’s how it is now, Gioia?"

"I’m playing. You're on your way back, right?"

Priest nodded. "Yeah. You need anything while I'm on the way?"

"No. See you when you get here." They proceeded to say their goodbyes before the call was ended.

The duration of the drive was lengthy due to the fact that traffic had gotten pretty heavy, but Priest didn't mind. The silence within the car relaxed him. He knew it probably wasn't the best idea to get out of his spot in traffic, but realizing Bueno! was just a turn away, he decided to stop by the bodega. Eyes immediately gravitated toward him once he parked his foreign car at the curb, but he paid the unwanted attention no mind.

Everyone who greeted him got a curt head nod in response as he entered the doors of the store. As always, business was great. Bueno! was a hood staple, and no matter how overpriced Carlito tried to sell shit, people wouldn't stop coming around.

"Aye!" Carlito exclaimed from behind the register when Priest entered the store.

Priest chuckled. He knew Carlito wasn't that excited to see him. He was actually more excited that he didn’t show up with J'Ru.

"What’s crackin' you, short motherfucka?" Priest joked while slapping hands with Carlito.

"Ask ya' fucking mother," Carlito fired back with his thick accent that was a mixture of his deep Hispanic roots and the multiple years of residing in New York.

Priest shot him a joking glare. "Didn't I tell your Oompa Loompa ass to stop bringing up my mom’s?" Priest laughed.

In laughter, Carlito lifted his hands in defeat, choosing to pick his battles wisely. "Where's Mrs. Cox?" Priest passed a few patrons on his way to the back aisle to get himself something to drink.

"In the back.”

Priest nodded before thanking Carlito. With his drink in hand, he headed toward the back of the bodega. Sure enough, in one of the back rooms, Mrs. Cox sat at a small table looking over inventory. She had her glasses, whose arms looked like stained wood, perched at the tip of her nose as her face screwed up in deep focus as she flipped through various pages.Leaning against the threshold of the door with a smirk, Priest applied a knock on the door, despite it being wide open.

Mrs. Cox looked up from the pages, a delighted smile etched on her face at the sight of Priest. "Hey, handsome!" She stood up from her seat, opening her arms for an embrace.

Priest made his way over to her, leaned down a bit, and wrapped her in a hug. "What's good with you, Mrs. C?" he asked her as she appointed him a seat.

She let out a tired sigh while leaning back in her seat slightly. "Nothing much. Just doing the numbers." A light smile formed on her face.

"Always been good at that," he chuckled. "Helped me with my math homework when I actually did it," Priest recalled.

Mrs. Cox laughed as she remembered how taxing it was to get Priest to focus on his academics for just a second. He was always forgetting about his responsibilities for the next girl, party, or basketball game. It got to the point that Mrs. Cox wouldn't let either J'Ru or Priest in unless they showed her some finished homework. It was either they agreed to finish their homework in the back room in exchange for a boatload of snacks they couldn't afford, or they headed elsewhere. They almost never headed elsewhere. They did their homework with the help of Mrs. Cox, and junk food as their motivation.

Settling from her laughter, Mrs. Cox eyed Priest. "You decided when you’re going back?" she asked him, immediately losing his interest.

He let out a heavy sigh while running his hand down his face. "I ain’t going back, Mrs. C. I made it happen without school. I told you I would buy the block, and what did I do?" He raised his brow, awaiting Mrs. Cox’s answer to his question.

“You bought the block,” she answered his question with a chuckle. Priest dropping out wasn't her proudest moment. She urged him to go back so adamantly until Priest started avoiding her and Bueno! so he wouldn't have to hear her lecture him about it anymore.He definitely beat the odds and surpassed her expectations with what he'd become now, though.

An arrogant smirk etched Priest’s face as he nodded his head. “I mean, I ain’t do it how you wanted me to, but I got the shit done.”

“Watch your mouth,” she warned him with a side-eye. “But I am very proud of you.”

“My fault, Mrs. C,” he apologized for his foul language with a chuckle. “But it’s nice to hear that from you. I appreciate it.”

“How is Ms. Britain?” Mrs. Cox shifted the conversation, causing a wide-stretched smile to grace Priest’s face. “She’s a lovely lady. I can tell she’s very genuine and around for all the right reasons.”

“Brit’s good. She’s actually at the house now. We’re moving steady. I rock with her,” Priest enlightened Mrs. Cox.

“That’s good to hear. She’s nothing like that Paula whore.” She screwed up her face at the thought of Paula. “Son, I don’t know what you saw in that wench.”

Unable to contain himself, Priest doubled over in laughter. “Nah, Mrs. C. You’re wildin’,” he shook his head. “I ain’t worried about my past no more, though. Brit’s looking like my future.”

Mrs. Cox reached over and cupped her hand around Priest’s hand, giving it a light squeeze. “Well, make sure you do right by her, and don’t have her waiting too long for a ring. No woman likes to wait.” She shook her head in a distasteful manner.

“I hear you, Mrs. C.” Priest nodded his head.

“You better. You know you’re kinda hardheaded.” She jokingly side-eyed him.

With a laugh, Priest waved her off. "I always listen. I gotta head out, though. I just wanted to tap in with you. Call me if you need anything, please." He rose from his seat, being sure to kiss her cheek prior to leaving.

"See you at Jamari's service," she said as she waved goodbye to him.Priest nodded his head, glad to hear that she would be showing support for Tasha. "Be sure to grab you a newspaper on your way out of here, too," she advised him with a telling eye.

Priest okayed her before making his way out. He grabbed a bag of Britain's favorite chips and Jazzy's favorite candy, along with a newspaper. Priest paid for the items before leaving, despite Carlito assuring him that there was no need. Getting into his car, Priest pressed the button, the engine purring to life. While the car was still in park, he sat the snacks down on the passenger seat before grabbing the newspaper to see why Mrs. Cox advised him to pick one up.

He let out a sigh of annoyance at the sight of his name once again tagged on the front-page headline.

PRIEST JUSTICE INVOLVED IN 12-YR OLD BOY’S HOMICIDE

"You gotta be fucking kidding me, yo," Priest scoffed while shaking his head. He had no idea how the media was making this connection and making it seem like he was involved. Too absorbed in his frustration, Priest opted out of reading the story since he knew nothing said would be accurate. They would rather crucify him as a bad guy than seek the truth.Priest pulled out of his parking space, tossing the newspaper out the window as he sped off. The media could pick at him all day. He didn't care. But when they took the limelight off the fact that Jamari, an innocent 12-year-old boy, got his life snatched away by a careless act of gun violence just to put it on him, Priest drew the line.

Once he arrived at the penthouse, Priest parked the vehicle in the parking garage before making his way up.Upon entrance into the penthouse, Priest’s dark orbs scoped around the home, failing to catch sight of Britain or Jazzlyn. Walking further into the penthouse, Priest was delighted to see Britain standing alongside Talia in the kitchen while Jazzy sat across from them.

"We having cooking lessons or something?" Priest asked with a light chuckle.

Britain, Jazzy, and Talia looked up and smiled at him. "She's teaching me how to make calamari." Britain pointed down at the fresh squid Talia had just taken out of bags in excitement.

Priest screwed his face up at the thought of eating calamari. "Who asked for that?"

Jazzy and Britain glanced at each other cluelessly before they all averted their eyes to Talia, waiting to see who had requested that she serve the calamari. "Sylvia. She told me you guys were having dinner here tonight. Did you guys not know?" Talia questioned as she shifted her questioning eyes between Jazzy and Priest.

From the years of working for Priest, Talia had grown accustomed to Sylvia's sporadic ways. She did things like this all the time, but usually Priest would be notified by her, and he would just let it happen. "I would jump off a cliff before I entertained a conversation with her," Jazzy muttered.

Priest shook his head. "Nah, I didn't know," he clarified. "Do me a favor and stop fixing dinner. I'll take care of you for the inconvenience," Priest assured Talia who obliged.

"You don't need anything else from me?" Talia asked.

Priest shook his head, granting her permission to clean up and leave.

Looking down at her Rolex watch, Jazzy let out a sigh. "Welp, I'm out of here. While you deal with your airhead mother, I gotta go work," she announced as she slid out of her seat.

Priest took a seat at the counter. "I'm not dealing with shit," Priest scoffed with a shake of his head.

"Good luck with that," Jazzy chuckled while patting her brother's shoulder encouragingly.

After a while, Jazzy headed out with Talia, who had successfully cleaned up the kitchen, leaving Britain and Priest alone.

"How was it with everybody?" Priest asked as he rested his hands on her sides as she stood between his legs.

Britain let out a light sigh. "It was fine. They were all really nice. Jazzy and I hung out all day, and she reminds me so much of you," she told him as she sat her hands into his broad shoulders.

Priest smiled. He was glad Britain was easing into his family life with no issues. Aside from Sylvia, everyone enjoyed Britain and what she was doing for Priest's sanity. After a few hours with her, they all understood why she was the one who got taken to the Hamptons, got to stay in his penthouse with him and enjoyed life alongside him. Their relationship just made sense. There was no other way to explain it.

"Nothing crazy came out of her mouth, did it?" Priest asking with a raised brow.

Britain laughed while shaking her head. "Unfortunately, no. She didn't spill the tea about you at all. It was just therapeutic girl talk. She thinks I should become a therapist."

Priest wrapped his strong arms around her, pulling her closer. "I can see that for you, Gioia."

Britain cupped her soft hands around his face, the tamed hairs of his beard tickling her palms as he peered down at her. "What's up?" he asked her when he recognized the questioning look in her brown orbs.

"Something's bothering you," she pointed out. Once she highlighted the burden that was placed on his day, his mind instantly traveled back to the article in the newspaper. Priest could handle the ridicule of the media, but Jamari being involved was different.

"Just some shit in The Times ," Priest admitted dismissively, not really wanting to get into it.

Britain let out a light groan. She dropped her hands from his face and pulled away from his hold. Priest watched as she walked across the oak wood floors to retrieve her phone from the couch where she had left it. She returned to him, this time with her focus on her device as she tapped away on her screen.

"It's nothing, Gioia," he tried to downplay his feelings to prevent her from growing angry at the article she was pulling up.

Once the front page was pulled up on her device, Britain’s face screwed up in clear agitation. "What do you mean it's nothing, P?" She raised her brows at the sight of her ex-boss Frankie's name in the byline of the inaccurate story. "This whole front page is just based on assumption. The quotes don't even have anything to do with you. She just mixed you in there to get a buzz." She smacked her lips with a deep roll of her eyes.

Priest shrugged while taking away Britain's phone and setting it aside. "I'm not gonna let no dumb-ass paper distract me from what's really important," he told her while placing his hands back on her sides.

"I know, but it's not right," Britain protested.

Priest agreed. "It isn't, but like you say, it comes with the territory."

"Frankie's trying to get back at me. She knows coming for you will get a rise out of me." Britain glared while folding her arms across her chest. Her ex-boss was known for playing dirty, and she wouldn't put it past Frankie to try these types of tactics.

"Don't let that shit get to you. I'm good, you’re good, we're good." Using his finger, he steered her head up to him for their lips to meet for a kiss. Britain, who simply convulsed at his touch, wrapped her arms around his neck loosely as he gripped her sides.

They indulged in a slow, passionate, sensual kiss. Priest, who had plans of being deep inside Britain all week, gripped her rear in his strong hands before maneuvering his right hand to the front of her jeans. Deep in the kiss, Priest managed to unbutton her Good American denim jeans successfully.Just as he was about to free her from her bottoms, the elevator doors chimed, indicating that someone was coming into the penthouse. Priest, who wasn't expecting anyone, instantly pulled away from the kiss, maneuvering Britain behind him. He wasn't too worried about his safety since he had been keeping security tight as of lately, and he knew how to handle his own. Once the heavy elevator doors glided open, his eyes were set upon his mother, Sylvia.

In agitation, he breathed out a sigh. Sylvia had given him a lengthy break by not bothering him as she enjoyed her newfound come up gifted to her by her estranged baby daddy, but now she was back. Britain, who hadn't seen Sylvia since their last run in, suppressed the urge to roll her eyes by eyeing her luxurious attire. She had to admit, Sylvia was a fashionable woman.

Today, she graced the ground with a pair of black, strappy open toe stilettos. She matched the gorgeous set of heels with a nice white dress that emulated an oversized button-down dress shirt. She accessorized the oversized dress with a nice Gucci belt that matched the black Gucci Marmont purse that hung from her shoulder. Sylvia kept her make up minimal, her look consisting of soft hues of nude and brown. The precisely cut middle part bob that she emphasized with highlights cupped her face beautifully. Pulling her look together was a gorgeous diamond tennis necklace, along with a gorgeous set of dangling diamond earrings.

Priest and Jazzy had definitely inherited some features from her, but it was evident that her genes were no match against their different fathers’.

"C'mon, let’s not do this." Priest shook his head, causing the confident smile on his mother's face to shatter.

She eased the blow of Priest’s dismissiveness toward her by waving him off. "I called for dinner. Talia hasn't started yet." She furrowed her brows. "Get a new chef, son. Her cooking isn't that good anyway." She shook her head.

Britain wasn't even surprised that Sylvia didn't bother to even acknowledge her, despite how rude it was. Britain actually appreciated that she didn't. Now she didn't have to play nice with her.

"Look, that shit is dead." Priest shook his head, immediately shutting Sylvia down. "You have shit backward in your head. You can't call my people and tell them what to do or when to get shit done. They work for me, not for you."

Coldly, Sylvia cut her eyes at Priest before shifting her orbs over to Britain. As much as she tried to ignore the young lady, her presence stuck out like a sore thumb as she stood behind Priest with a content smirk smeared on her face.

"Priest, that's not the point," she said as she dramatically waved him off while sitting her purse onto the marble counter tops, indicating that she had intentions of staying.

Priest inhaled a deep breath, hoping to keep his frustrations with his mother at bay. "That's exactly the fucking point. You need to learn and respect boundaries," he scolded her harshly. "Plus, didn't I tell you to stay out my fucking way?"

Sylvia chuckled while shaking her head at her son. "You think paying me can keep Mama Dearest away? You sound stupid. I’m your mother, Priest!" She approached him, kissing his cheek as if she were a doting mother who had been nothing but great.

Priest gently pushed his mother away from him. "Sylvia, get your shit and go," he demanded.

She smirked up at Priest. He was being a lot tougher than usual, and she couldn't help but realize that this was Britain's doing. Taking a step back, her heels clicked against the oak floors. Her piercing brown orbs glanced from Priest to Britain. "He must really love you to be dismissing me the way he is now," she slyly sneered at Britain with a smirk on her face.

Britain furrowed her brows in confusion. She had no idea how she became the person of interest for Sylvia's failed attempt of getting back in Priest's good graces. Britain tilted her head to the side slightly. "Are you sure you haven't gone fucking senile?" she spat.

Priest immediately snapped his head in Britain's direction with his face screwed up. He clearly wasn't proud that she had stooped to his mother’s level.

"Brit, we’re not about to do that. Don’t even go there with her." Priest shook his head. Whether Sylvia put him through hell or not, that didn't take away from the fact that she still was his mother, and he wouldn't allow Britain to just say anything to her. Just like Sylvia got checked for coming at Britain sideways, the same consequences would be rendered to Britain. They didn't necessarily have to get along or love each other, but they needed to respect each other.

Britain shifted her cold eyes from Sylvia, redirecting them to Priest. She definitely didn't think she deserved to be scolded for defending herself against Sylvia. The last time they ran into each other, she was as respectful as she could be, and she wasn't about to give Sylvia chance after chance.

"When you're done with this," Britain said, motioning her finger between Priest and Sylvia. "We should have a conversation."

Britain rolled her eyes as she turned her back, heading to Priest's bedroom to allow him to have some privacy with his mother.Priest let out a light sigh before shifting his attention back over to his mother.

"Well, you put her in her place." Sylvia chuckled while reaching up to dust his shoulders off.

Priest grabbed ahold of her wrist, pushing her hand away from him. "This gotta stop," Priest gritted down at her. "I'm not about to deal with you and the messy shit. Stop coming at my shorty sideways like you ain’t got no fucking sense and stop popping up at my spot. I don’t know how many times I have to tell you you’re not fucking welcomed here," he jeered down at her, his tone harsh and lethal. Priest grabbed her bag from the counter, handing it over to her. She had overstayed her welcome, and Priest had no patience for her showing up again.

Sylvia cut her eyes at Priest before smacking her lips. She hung her Gucci purse from her shoulder, preparing to leave. “Your father is in town," she stated snidely while retrieving something from her bag. She balled up the paper in her hand, tossing it toward him.

Priest's dark eyes averted from her to the paper that landed by his feet. "He wants to talk. Maybe you can stop with all the daddy issues bullshit," she spewed as she spun around in the elevator to face Priest with a sly smirk while the door began to glide shut.

Priest felt a tightness in his chest. His stomach felt as if it was tying in knots. When he was younger, Priest always imagined having some sort of excitement bubbling within him at the mention of speaking to his father. It was what he always craved and longed for: to finally speak to the man the hood held to such a high stature. He was the kin of a king. Sadly, Priest wasn't feeling that rush of excitement. The only feeling that was taking over him was vengeance. Shit would have been so much better if Leonard just acknowledged him. He wouldn't have gone through half the shit he'd gone through if his pops were around and accepted him as his own.What was truly bothering Priest was the matter of why now ? What was so special about this moment and time in his life for Leonard to want to speak to him? It had been 28 whole fucking years!

Reaching down, Priest grabbed the paper Sylvia had carelessly balled up. Opening the paper, Priest’s eyes scanned the penmanship that made up the name etched above the phone number. Leonard.

Priest released a heavy, stressed breath. He placed the wrinkled paper onto the counter. He had way too much pride to ever feed into Leonard's wants. If he wanted to talk, he was going to have to jump through hurdles and hoops to find him. Priest was everywhere yet nowhere at once. Leonard was just going to have to catch him. Plus, Priest wasn't sure if there would be much talking between them. He had little to no tolerance for bullshit, and for some reason, he just knew Leonard would be on some bullshit that he wasn't willing to deal with.His plan was still in motion. No inner child feelings were going to stop it.

Running his hand down his face, Priest ridded his head of the stressful thoughts of Leonard. His mind immediately went to Britain. He knew he rubbed her the wrong way by speaking to her the way he had in his mother’s presence. Britain was respectful. She would’ve much rather been checked in private than to be checked blatantly in front of anyone. It wasn't really what he said. It was how he said it and when he said it.

Pushing his bedroom door open, he gazed at Britain as she stood over her bag, stuffing her belongings inside of it. In agitation, Priest smacked his lips loudly. That caught Britain’s attention, causing her to snap her head in his direction.

"Don't ever speak to me like that again. That was uncalled for, especially in the presence of your mother," she hissed in a stern tone.

Priest navigated over to her, reached into her bag that she was packing up and began unpacking it. "When shit doesn't go your way, you like to run from it," he told her as he began walking her folded clothing back toward his massive closet. He sat the clothes down on the built-in island-like dresser that was set in the center of the oversized closet.

He could hear Britain following behind him in hopes of attaining her clothing. "No the fuck I don’t," she refuted. "At this point, you and your mama have me fucked up, and I’ll be damned if I stay here to deal with it!" She folded her arms across her chest as her face screwed up in anger.

Priest turned around to face her. He leaned against the dresser, a light smirk on his face as he folded his arms across his chest as well. Realizing she wasn't falling for his light tactic to loosen her up, he let out a sigh and let his arms down. Reaching out, he took ahold of her waist, pulling her closer. Priest then lifted her up and sat her on the dresser’s countertop while he stood between his legs.

"It's not your fault. It's mine," he began as he placed his cold hands at her sides underneath her graphic crop top. "I fucked up and should’ve never did that out there. She antagonizes you, and I get you have every right to defend yourself in that moment, but just please let me deal with her," he explained, causing Britain's face to soften. "I will never allow her to disrespect you and not handle it. Aight?" Finding a line of understanding, Britain nodded her head.

"I get it," Britain muttered, causing Priest to laugh lightly.

"Don't ever pack your shit up on me again, fool," he teased her while lightly gripping her neck.

Britain laughed. She tended to just extract herself from relationships and situations whenever she got upset. It was a newfound personality trait she developed after her toxic cycle run with Cameron. While she was single, it was the greatest trait to have, but now that she was locked in with Priest, he wasn't feeling it at all. He believed in taking the time to sort shit out together when shit got crazy. He never believed in fleeing from issues. To him, that made people weak.

Britain leaned in, pecking his lips a few times. "I didn’t mean to take it there. The situation just triggered me.”

"Nah, your reaction was warranted. She came at you wrong, and so did I. I apologize." His apology was genuine, and the smile he had on his face swooned Britain.

Her face reflected his smile. "I love you."

"I love you too." He chuckled as he applied a quick kiss to her lips.

"Can you finish unpacking my spend-a-night bag?" Britain teased with a bat of her long, wispy lashes that made her eyes all-the-more innocent.

Priest laughed before flicking her bottom lip that had curled into a pleading frown. Priest turned around so his back was facing her. She immediately caught the hint, which led to her jump up onto his back. The piggyback ride filled her with laughter as he carried her from his closet to his bed, where he dramatically plopped down on top of her.

Britain and Priest adjusted themselves into more comfortable positions in the bed. Priest ended up resting his head on her flat stomach while her hand stroked his waves soothingly. "Are you ready for tomorrow?" Britain asked in a light voice.

Priest cleared his throat before shrugging. "Never been a fan of funerals," he admitted with his baritone and raspy voice. "But I gotta be strong. Tasha and the boys counting on me."

"You don't have to be strong all the time, P."

Priest let out a chuckle while shaking his head. "I can't risk it. I'm cool, though. You've been helping me through a lot," he praised her with a smile.

"I'll be here for you always.” Her light, sweet voice warmed Priest’s heart.

"‘Preciate it," Priest expressed his gratitude before they slapped hands with each other. Britain made any and every situation feel a whole lot easier to deal with.