Page 20

Olivia and I stayed at my house another three days, fucking and sucking on each other like we were making up for lost time. I don’t know where we were headed, but I knew one thing for certain, she wasn’t going back to that nigga.

W e pulled up to Olivia’s parents’ house around mid-afternoon, the sun hanging low enough to cast long shadows across the gravel driveway.

The place looked like something off of an old postcard—white siding, green shutters, and a wide front porch with ivy creeping up the columns.

Olivia’s parents sat side by side in matching wooden rockers, each holding a cup in their hands.

As soon as my truck came to a stop, her mom stood, brushing invisible dust from her apron.

A warm smile lit up her face, the kind that made you feel welcome before a single word was spoken.

Her father, on the other hand, stayed seated.

His eyes locked on my truck, arms folded across his chest with his lips pressed into a straight line that didn’t so much as twitch.

I’d met Olivia’s mama before. She was kind, talkative, and quick to make you feel like family.

Her pops, though? Never laid eyes on him until now.

Olivia had warned me he didn’t take kindly to strangers, especially the ones who came sniffing around his princess.

Overprotective was the word she used, but the way she said it made it sound more like a warning than a description.

I stepped out of the truck and assisted Olivia from the passenger side.

As she placed her hand in mine, I could feel that her palm was sweating.

My baby was nervous, and I thought the shit was cute.

She smoothed the front of her dress and took a steadying breath like she was preparing for a test she hadn’t studied for.

“Why are you looking all nervous?”

“It’s not that… We haven’t even established what we are, Bo. How am I supposed to introduce you to my father?”

“As your man. The fuck you mean, O.” I grilled her, waiting for her response.

“Bo, my father thinks I am still with Josh. He just thinks we are on a break. Besides… I didn’t want to assume anything. You never asked me to be your girl.” She grinned bashfully, biting her bottom lip.

I pulled her to me, wrapped my arms around her waist, and stared down into her eyes. “Fuck that nigga. Don’t ever mention his name again. You were always my girl, O. That nigga was just a placeholder until you came to your senses.” I gave her a quick peck on the lips.

“Bo!” She panicked and looked back toward her parents, whose eyes were on us. “My parents are looking.”

I chuckled. “Oh. You don’t want them to know that their baby is a freak in the sheets.”

“Boy, bye. Now, turn me loose before he comes over here. And let me do the talking. My father can be a bit much,” she whispered.

“Girl, I ain’t afraid of your daddy. You see how big I am?” I poked my chest out.

Olivia laughed, grabbed my hand, and led us up the driveway. We walked up the path together, and I could feel her dad’s eyes on me the whole way, measuring and judging. Olivia’s mom came down the steps with arms wide, pulling her daughter into a hug.

Her dad finally rose slow and deliberate, like a man who didn’t rush for anyone. He stepped down from the porch, boots hitting the pavement with a weight that made the moment feel heavier than it already was.

He gave me a hard once-over, eyes narrowing beneath the brim of his worn-out ball cap. Then, without a word to me, he shifted his gaze to Olivia, softening only slightly.

“Hey there, Princess. Who do we have here? Doesn’t look like that ugly boy you live with.”

I looked over at Olivia, giving her a look that said, “Yeah, we telling your people today that you and that nigga is a dub.” It was a new sheriff in town, and I wasn’t leave her folks place until they both understood that Josh was no longer a factor.

Olivia broke into a grin and darted into his arms without hesitation. “Hey, Daddy,” she said, burying her face into his shoulder like she was eight years old again.

He held her tightly for a moment, and when he pulled back, there was something complicated in his eyes. Pride. Worry. Maybe even relief. But then his gaze flicked back to me, and whatever softness had been there disappeared like it had never existed.

“So…” he said leisurely, folding his arms. “Who’s your friend? He got a name?” Olivia shot me a glance—half warning, half encouragement.

“Dad, thi?—”

“Let him answer, baby,” her father cut her off in an attempt to try and intimidate me.

I chuckled, reaching my hand out to introduce myself. “Yes, sir. I'm Boris. But everybody calls me Bo. It’s nice to meet you, sir.”

“Oh, he has manners. Another trait that ugly boy doesn’t have. We’ll get to the rest of the stuff. First, you help me carry these porch chairs inside.”

There wasn’t a smile on his face, but I had a feeling this was his version of a test—or maybe even an invitation.

I laughed before following him up the porch steps. I greeted Mrs. Mayfield before grabbing the chairs and carrying them inside. I had a feeling they didn’t normally put the chairs inside, but I went with the flow.

After we were all inside, we sat in the living room. Olivia sat next to me while her parents sat on the loveseat across from us.

“So…” he said with a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, “Are you two a couple? ’Cause the way my baby girl’s sitting practically in your lap, y’all don’t look like any casual acquaintances.”

Olivia shifted slightly, tension tightening her jaw. “Daddy, Bo is my fr?—”

“Man,” I cut in, firm but respectful. Olivia was trying to have me crash out in front of her parents. I had just told her our relationship status outside, and she knew by now I never said anything I didn’t mean. “I’m her man. We’re way past the point of just friends, sir.”

Olivia shot me a sharp look, but I caught the blush rising on her cheeks. She didn’t say a word, and she didn’t move away either.Her dad raised an eyebrow, lips twitching like he couldn’t decide whether to be pissed or impressed.

Then her mom chuckled low and easy before smiling. “That’s right,” she said, clapping her hands. “You claim your woman, Boris!”

Her dad didn’t smile, but something in his shoulders relaxed. He looked at me long and hard as if something in him snapped. “You look like someone I know. Who’s your father? I swear… you look like somebody I know.” He snapped his finger like he just figured it out. “Charles Bailey. That’s it.”

“You think so? I can’t see it,” his wife stated.

“Baby, I've been servicing his cars for over ten years. I know what I’m talking about, woman.”

His wife finally co-signed after she and her husband had stared at me. “Wow. He does, come to think of it.”

“Nah. I don’t know him.” I shook my head and laughed.

“Damn. The resemblance is crazy. You sure?”

“Baby, the boy said he doesn’t know the man. Stop it. You swear everybody looks like someone. Just like you mistakenly thought Shirley Allison’s house was mine, knowing damn well my parents ain’t live in no damn trailer!” His wife rolled her eyes.

“Baby, when are you going to let that go? I told you… I was at her house buying some pies for my mother.”

“Hm!” She folded her arms across her chest. “She was selling more than pies.”

“But I only want your pie, baby.” He kissed his wife, and she giggled like a schoolgirl.

“Oh my goodness! Ma! Daddy! Hellooo! Would y’all stop?”

Olivia was embarrassed, but I thought the interaction was dope. The love they showed each other as husband and wife was what I wanted with my future wife and kids.

I ended up staying at Olivia’s parent’s house for dinner before we left and went back to my place.