#youluvego

𝙰𝚞𝚐𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝟸𝟺

No matter how long she combed through her mind, this dilemma was completely and utterly of her own making. Their relationship—if she could even call it that, was never meant to make it this far. It was supposed to just be a distraction to keep her from drowning in the loneliness she felt at the time. Then the distraction became a semi permanent fixture in her life unconsciously.

It should have ended months ago, when she realized she’d bitten off more than she could chew. It probably would have, if she would have spent more time in the present and not planning for a future with an old lover.

She blames him really, if he would have just left her alone that night at the club she’d have taken the hint and moved on for good…eventually.

The scalding water does nothing to wash away the anxiety coursing through her veins. Though she’s known for having an extensive hygiene routine, tonight's shower is abnormally long— even for her standards. No matter how long she prepped, nothing seemed to be going according to plan.

They were supposed to go to dinner, she would be the bearer of bad news, they would part ways and then she would spend the rest of her career avoiding his presence. Yet here she was hiding in the shower like the coward she’d accused Roman of being. 

Finally gaining the courage to depart from the steamy glass her skincare routine flew by. The oils and butters massaged into her skin were fully absorbed and she was fully dressed, stood unmoving, watching herself in the mirror.

If you looked hard enough you would see that some of the leftover steam in the air was coming from the top of her head. Her mind conjuring up possible scenarios for how the night would go.

Since he was currently in her home he would find it strange to now drive them both to dinner. If he drives to dinner how would she get home after the inevitable? He could behave like a gentleman in public and then attempt to leave her on the side of the road half way back to her place.

What if he has a meltdown in the restaurant? What if someone sees and records it for the internet? What if—a knock at the bathroom door interrupts the runaway train that is her mind.

Taking a deep breath and putting on the biggest, fakest, smile she could muster, she makes her way to the door. Upon opening it there stands Jason with a scowl on his face and a white knuckle grip on her unlocked cell phone. 

“Are you—”

“You think he can do it better than you? I don’t know Jireh…can I?” The question is clearly rhetorical but the answer sits heavy on her mind nonetheless. 

Quickly coming to terms with the fact that she was in for a great deal more than just a quick cut and dry “sorry this can’t work” and goodbye. Seeing no other choice but to face this head on, she lets out a heavy sigh and ambles past him into her living room.

The scoff he lets out crawls up her spine and digs into the back of her skull. She can feel the ire flickering off of him like unruly flames. 

“Well? Yes or no. I’d really love to know actually — while you’re at it I’d also love to know when you had time to throw pussy at Roman Reigns.” she rolls her eyes at the crude language he’s tossing around.

Though they’d been spending time together over the past few months it was rare for Jireh to see him this worked up.

“What do you want me to say?” evidently she’d picked up a few nasty tricks from the Roman Reigns book of conflict evasion. 

“Nah don’t give me that passive bullshit. What do I want you to say? I want you to answer my question.” 

“We used to be together…kinda”

“You used to be together kinda?”

“For a few years, we ended things before the rumble.” He didn't need to know that her statement was technically not completely true. Getting into the semantics might make the situation worse than it already is and this is ramping up to be too much of the already too big piece she’s bit off and physically could not chew.

“and that does nothing to explain how I’m finding you sending naked pictures to him now in August.”

“It’s complicated.” 

“Uncomplicate it.” It was an impossible feat. How could she explain to him that the foundation of the relationship he believed them to be building, was her inability to accept that the man she loved may not ever be able to love her the same way.

“I don’t want to do this with you right now” It was definitive just how much she sounded like him in the moment and it made her stomach churn.  

“Oh I get it. You see he’s fucking on Aaliyah and now you want that old thing back?” The air in her home seemed to be rapidly vacuuming out and the flush beneath her cheeks was a combination of embarrassment and anger.

She knew he had no idea what he was talking about yet his words wounded her all the same.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about—"

“Oh please Jireh give me a break, aye next time you see him, ask him how many bitches just like you he’s had on that bus—”

“Don’t talk to me like that.” Ignoring her interjection he continues on his tirade. 

 “Y’all laid up and played house and what..you thought you’d be the one to get him settle down. You’re funny you really are, I thought you were smarter than that.”

“We weren’t playing house. Don’t try and tell me about my life.”

“Well then how come nobody knew huh?” His words feel mocking and the thought is cemented when he begins to chuckle at her delayed response.

“You should go”

“I should go?” he scoffs, “I catch you in some shit and now I’m the one that has to go?” Wiping a hand down his face he lets out another snicker. 

“If you want we can talk about this another time but right now you’re upset and I don’t think—”

“Upset?” he throws his hands in the air. “Why wouldn’t I be upset? I mean really Jireh what did you think was going to happen? You would fuck me for a few months and then toss me out when he was tired of fucking around?”

“You’re being spiteful. It’s—”

“Not like that… Yeah I’m sure,” Hands on his hips, he cocks his head to the side, surveying her. “You know you’re just like the rest of them.” He points at the phone he’d tossed atop the glass table when they first entered the room. “All that shit in there, that shits pathetic— begging for attention and he couldn't give a fuck less about you.” His words sting, yet she takes the verbal lashing in silence. Despite her displeasure with the way he’s speaking to her, she knows deep down that it’s deserved.

“Have a good life Jireh. I hope you get what you so desperately wanted.” 

When her front door slams it leaves her slumping over onto the cushions, letting heavy arms fall over her eyes. Jason's words swarm through her mind like bees that she can’t escape. Was she pathetic? Was all the effort even worth it?

Just two days prior she’d spoken to the cause of all this disarray on the phone. What seemed like a victory then, is sitting heavy on her conscience now. He’d said it himself, time and time again, she needed to stop. What other choice did she have? to give up? Let him get away with ruining what was good for the both of them. Was it good for the both of them? or was it what she wanted?

The buzzing in her mind intensifies with each new thought. Rolling onto her side, she buries her face deep into the back cushion, willing away the roiling in her stomach. The next time she opens her eyes, it’s the morning.There's no chance to even feel relief because reality comes crashing down on her. 

𝙰𝚞𝚐𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝟹𝟷, 𝙲𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚑 𝚒𝚗 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚜

Drowning her sorrows in tequila has proven to be catastrophic time and time again but maybe this time she’d prevail. Surrounded by her coworkers in a foreign club to celebrate another successful PLE and yet her mind keeps playing the same images on repeat.

It started out well and ended in mayhem. Curled in on himself, chest heaving in anguish. Over and over she watched the breath be stolen from his lungs until that stretcher wheeled him away. Some would say it’s what he deserves—Jason surely would.

She could see the revulsion on his face as he was forced to assist Roman out of harm's way. Even once they entered into gorilla he quickly departed from the man's side, letting the medical team do their jobs. The look he cast in her direction was far from amicable. 

The last time he suffered these types of injuries he came to her and she was there to offer solace. That very same night he promised her he would stay. Promised that the endless game of push and pull would come to an end.

Now she's found herself in an odd predicament of mastering the pull all on her own after delivering the final and fatal push. Muscle memory has a filthy habit of kicking in at the worst of times. 

Originally, he tried to talk her out of it, telling her to give him space and that he would “come around.” It wasn’t what she wanted to hear. It was unclear how many she’d sent at that point. It started with just one, earlier in the night to see if he was ok. Then came multiple rounds of tequila and the burn began to coincide with each following message.

Perhaps it was his own slew of alcoholic beverages slowing his cognitive function, or maybe his own concern for his unresponsive cousin, but it didn’t take much to convince Jimmy to give up his room information. 

That’s how she found herself at the only pharmacy open at that time of the night. Scouring the isles with blurred vision for what she deemed peace offerings. It took a store clerk taking pity on her drunken figure to help her interpret the foreign language on all the merchandise. She couldn't even remember what exactly was in the bag she toted up to his suite.

The entire time pursuing through the small store she wondered what she would say to him once she saw him. That all came to a screeching halt when she laid the first gentle knock on his door.

Donning a skintight minidress and carrying a bag full of mystery components he was sure to assume that she was showing up with nefarious intent. Realizing too late just how this situation may look.  There was no time for her to turn away and rethink her drunken plan because the door handle turned down and clicked open.

You would never have known she’d been regularly sending pictures and videos of herself in various states of undress with the way she stands stock still at the sight of him. Allows him to take her in from head to toe before coming up with her most coherent sentence over the last few hours. 

“I just wanted to make sure you were ok.” She presents the bag of supplies to him. “I got this for you. peace offering.” His fingers briefly brush against hers when he takes the hefty bag from her.

Not knowing what else to say she gives him a thin smile and takes a step away ready to make a prompt exit before his drowsy voice halts her. Taking a step out of the door and clearing his throat.

“Do you wanna come in?” Her mind immediately screams yes but her mouth opens and promptly closes as she flounders around for her next words. Hands flailing out from their folded position in front of her. 

“I probably shouldn’t." seeing the dejection on his face she jumps to convey her true meaning. “I didn’t come here for anything—or because of the—I just wanted to make sure you were ok…that’s all.” her voice fading toward the end.

“We should talk,” he prompts. His words send a frog leaping into her throat that is exceptionally hard to swallow and she swears she can feel a bead of sweat running down her spine. 

Her fingers entangle themselves nervily and she nods her head. “ok—ok sure.” She tries to sound assured but feminine intuition tells her that things won’t go how she’s been hoping. He steps back into the room then, holding the door ajar and for the first time tonight she takes in his attire.

The black tank top clings to him and she can see the wet spot from where a cold compress must have lain. Once the door seals behind them she makes her way toward the sofa tucked into the corner.

She can hear him rummaging around in the bag as he gets closer and when he sits in the chair opposite of her he’s brandished a Lavender scented pain relief gel. 

“Couldn’t help yourself could you?” he chastises, flipping the small bottle around to her with the briefest of smiles. 

“Oh please, don’t pretend you don’t like lavender.” she quips with a playful eyeroll. 

They’re cast in a tranquil silence then. She’s the first to speak when that tranquility turns to unspoken ambiguity. 

“What are we doing?” she whispers hoping maybe he wouldn’t hear and give her an answer that she dreaded accepting. For the past few days, Jason's words have rung steady through her mind.

From the very beginning she knew that he was a flawed man and she would never regret the time they spent together. But she had to come to terms with the fact that maybe they weren’t meant to be together. They say if you love something let it go and it was highly possible that their time together had come to an end. She needed to be a big girl and set him free.

“I’ll stop.” His eyes find hers and the dip of his eyebrows convey more than just confusion. “If you really don't want this, if you really want me to leave you alone I will. But you gotta give me something, anything. I can't do this all on my own.” Her eyes well with tears and she turns her head away from his gaze. 

The tear that escapes is promptly swiped away by fingers that don’t belong to her. He’s sitting next to her now, pulling her into his chest and wrapping her in a longing embrace. The tears come freely then from somewhere deep inside like a dam that’s been waiting to overflow. They sit embraced until her breath evens out and the river of tears slows. Being wrapped in his arms feels like returning to her home that she’d been forced to abandon. 

“I think about you all the time.” is how he breaks the silence against the crown of her hair. “Everyday I wish you were with me—”

“then—”

“Let me finish, ok?” wrapping a hand around her jaw to lift her head he looks deep into her eyes.

“But I don’t know how to do this—”

“I can help you—”

“Jireh. It's not your responsibility to help me.”

“Roman—” trying to make him see was exasperating. 

“It’s not. It’s something I have to figure out on my own. It’s not fair to drag you down if I don’t know that I'll be able to get back up,” more tears pool at her lashline. “I want—I need to be better, for you. But I don’t know how and I need some time to figure it out, ok?” 

“How much time?” she murmurs tearfully. 

Looking at her reminds him of when he was a child crying and begging for his parents to love him the way others loved their sons and daughters. Crushing her back to his chest he lets her cry into him once again— hoping that this time will be the last time he’s ever the cause of a breakdown of this magnitude. 

Hours go by and he watches the light change through the room. Both of them, sitting in absolute silence, stay wrapped in each other's arms, soaking in what may possibly be their final moments together forever. “I want to do this the right way. I don’t know how long it's gonna take but I'm gonna try, I swear I will.” Without lifting her head, he can feel her nodding against his chest. 

“I love you.” she whispers to him.

“I love you too.” he whispers back and the grip on his shirt is followed by more tears. The first time he’s ever said it and it may possibly be the last.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞| ok good news. part II is already finished just needs to be edited. Bad news is, I'm not posting it till Monday cause life is getting busy and I can't feed yall too much at once....sorry🤍

𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟗, 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓

Waiting for his driver to return to the bus was usually never this agonizing, however in that moment he’s subject to an indescribable amount of torture. From where he kneeled on the cushions of the leather sofa, he can hear her voice directly outside the window. Though he can't make out what's being said he would recognize that laugh anywhere.

Ear pressed to the window he imagines her face, eyes crinkling— lips pulled high in delight. He hadn’t seen her since that night in Paris— even forbade the twins from telling him anything about her. Though he often wondered if she ever asked about him.

It's not like he would’ve had time to see her anyway. Over the last two and a half months he’d spent a collective two weeks at his place of employment, the rest of the time spent trying to keep his promise to her. 

After scheduling four different appointments with four different providers and no showing each one, he’d finally worked up the nerve to join his fifth therapy session.

 A plump woman named Margo with a no nonsense attitude awaited him. In a way, she reminded him of Jireh. He would never tell her, but it's why he keeps showing up. It’s also the same reason he almost quit mid session when she informed him that they could not only speak about Jireh. Firmly reminding him that therapy starts at the root of the problem. Whatever the fuck that meant.

Too caught up in trying to eavesdrop on the conversation outside, he missed the opening of the bus door and almost lost his balance whipping around after hearing the clearing of a throat. His driver Nash, stood at the front of the bus, hands on his hips and an eyebrow raised into his hairline.

“Whatcha up to?” he questions with a laugh. Caught in the act, he doesn't even pretend to have an excuse.

“Who alls’ out there, might go and say bye to the twins if they’re still around.”

“Oh, yeah they’re out there.” he waves a hand in the direction of the door before turning toward his area of the bus. His statement lacks some key details and Roman scratches at his beard in low level irritation.

“Just them?” he goaded, attempting to pull him back into an otherwise finished conversation. 

“nah them and a few others.” he’s still puttering around preparing his area for the long drive ahead of them.

“anybod—”

“What do you really wanna ask me son?” After almost a decade of navigating him from place to place, Nash knew Roman like the back of his hand. "Is it anything to do with the pretty lady that owns these here pink slippers you refuse to get rid of?” 

Both heads turn toward the direction of said slippers, tucked neatly into the corner of the faux foyer. Roman always fussed at Jireh for wearing them due to how much they shed. He’d always find little pink fibers stuck to the all black fabric that was ninety percent of his outfits. Like many other items she’d left behind, they’d never left their spots even though their owner ceased to return.

“You saw her?”

“I did.”

“and?”

“and what?” 

“I’m being serious.” 

the older man gives a full belly laugh. “If you was so serious you would go out there and say somethin to her.” They stand like a mirror, arms crossed over their chests waiting for the other to give in.

“Sit down son, let's talk.” He doesn’t wait for Roman to comply before waltzing over to the booth in the compact makeshift kitchen area. Once settled, he inclines his head to the other side, silently calling for him to have a seat.

“Now usually I stay out your business but I'll admit you've got me confused. I been driving you round on this bus for eight years, just you, then suddenly just you became two and now we’re back to square one,” seeing no attempts at interjection he pushes on.

“You been moping around since then, not even showing up to work, then I get in here and find you peeking out the blinds like a pervert—”

“I wasn’t—”

“Then what were ya doing?”

“I’m not a pervert.” 

“Yeah and I’m not turning 65 this year” he laughs.

“Nash I’m not a pervert I was just—”

“Why don’t you just go an talk to her?” He has no response to that because he has no real reason not to. That night in Paris, they laid on that sofa until the sun came up. It was she that had the courage to finally detangle herself from him and go— as always. 

Planted a lingering kiss on his forehead and left him there alone. No more tears. No yelling, she didn't tell him that she hated him. Not even a smack to the face for wasting her time. Secretly he wished that she would call his bluff. 

Anytime his phone rang he scrambled to answer only to be disappointed when it wasn’t her face gracing his screen. Even when he was begging her to stop sending the erotic messages, he would frequently scroll back through them. Refamiliarizing himself with the scope of her, from the dip of her cupids bow down to the creases at the back of her thighs. If he was a better man he would delete them until he made amends.

“It's complicated.”

“…Complicated?”

“…Yeah”

“Mhmm, let me tell ya a story,” leaning back in his seat, he lets out a large puff of air before continuing on “When I was growing up my parents were sacks of shit,” Roman lets out an affirmative snort. “So I jumped around from place to place looking for something—or someone, to dive head first into if ya know what I mean.”

“Nash—come on man I'm being serious—”

“So am I! Let me finish, I'll get to the point eventually," waiting for the young man to lower his hackles he continues on. “anyway I met this girl ina bar down town New Orleans. Cute lil thing with these pretty brown eyes I used to always say she had bug eyes but in a cute way you know—”

“why are you—”

“Just listen! I decided I liked her cute lil bug eyes so much that I wanted to keep seeing em. Then one day big bug eyes turned into lil ones staring up at me. Then another pair and then two more after that. Times got hard after the last one was born. Me and her, fussin and fighting, bills needin to be paid n’ all that. Biggest thing was, she wanted to finally get married. So I picked up trucking. It was good money, they had everything they wanted and I got peace of mind, just me, myself and the highway. I spent more time on that road than I did my own home. Till one day I came back. House empty—kids gone. Only thing there was a note. Know what it said?”

“What?”

“Told me to let her know when I was done runnin, she’d be waitin for me.”

“And?”

“She finally got that wedding she wanted, just not with me. Could only see my babies every couple of weeks on a court order. Served me right I guess, had nothing better to do so I gave up trucking and started driving around rich lil assholes like you. When you're doing so much driving and driving and driving you get a lotta time to think and the more I thunk the more I realized just how bad I screwed it all up. Things are better than ever now. Hell, since you barely come to work I feel like I get to see my kids more than I ever have before. They're older, having babies of their own. I wasn’t the best dad to em. Thought if I gave em all the gifts and toys they wanted, that would be enough. My oldest went to school for that psycho shit, keeps telling me I got childhood trauma and it ain’t my fault. Whatever the hell that means. I make sure I try real hard for the grandkids now. Even though I gotta play co- grandpa with my ladies husband, I tell the kids to call me popop. I'm not sharing a name with that suma bitch—that motherfucker. Every time I see em I wanna knock his head off—you know—”

“Nash.” he interrupts the upcoming rambling. “Why are you telling me this?” The older man lets out a deep sigh.

“You know you gotta head harder than a horse's ass, too many hits with them chairs they’ll do sum to ya I tell ya.” He rolls his eyes, shaking his head in disappointment.  “At some point you gotta shut up and let people love on ya. All that shit that happened in the past is the past. Work through it however you need but you keep running and you’ll look up and see that you ran her right into the arms of someone else—hell you already have. The twins told me about that Justin boy or whoever. wooooo boy does he have a bone to pick with yo—”

“Alright that's enough. Let's get outta here.” quickly rising from his seat signaling the end of the conversation. He’d rather not hear about Jordan and how if he had his way, Roman would be beaten to a pulp every week on live television. Heading to the back of the bus he stops in his tracks bowing his head.

“Nash?” he spins around to face the man. “What do you think I should do…about Jireh”

“Well for starters, stop talking back to your therapist, I’ve heard you on the phone back there an—” he stops short at the disgruntled look on the man's face.

“Ok sorry. Look. This is what I would do to win my woman back. I've actually been wanting to test this out for a few years but my daughter thinks it would mess up the family dynamic or some shit. I keep telling her to hell with all that but—” again noticing him losing patience he course corrects. “…this is what I would do.”

𝐉𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝟑𝟏, 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟔

Moving into a new home while traveling the world on a weekly basis was no easy feat but admittedly it was easier than waking up everyday being haunted by the ghost of a lover and she had to finally admit that her home was a graveyard of what could have been. 

Choosing not to repeat past mistakes and drag another innocent soul into the disorienting mess that was her life, the first few weeks of isolation were the hardest.

Though they’d been broken up for some months before—and several times prior to that. This time was different. No passive aggressive remarks. No meetings for closure that ended in the colliding of feverish skin and reconciliation.

There were no club run ins. No stealthy encounters in unlit parking lots. No late night phone calls. No scandalous trading of explicit images and breathy voice memos. There was only silence. Lengthy and maddening silence that ate at her chest as the days went by.

Time had passed and her tears may have dried but the thoughts of him still lingered. Even after packing all of his things into boxes and tucking them away it wasn’t enough. Constantly wondering why she couldn’t escape the thought of him, she seriously considered checking herself in for a mental evaluation at one point. 

It started with the little things. Still sleeping on the left side of the bed. Still keeping her shoes tucked neatly onto the top racks because there were usually a few of his larger pairs on the bottom. 

Her closet and dresser drawers having vacant space that even reckless shopping sprees couldn’t fill. It came to a head the day she found herself contemplating sleeping in the guest room just to escape the torment.

Starting therapy was hard. Having to admit that if given the opportunity, she would take back the man causing her mental anguish—that was downright embarrassing. It was her truth however, she would take him back, but only if he stood on his word. He promised to change, to be better for her and in the mean time she needed to do the same. 

The knock on the door rouses her from yet another deep bout of rumination. She isn't quite used to the way sounds echo throughout this new space and with all the work she’d been forcing herself to commit to, there hadn’t been much time to get herself acclimated. Between the twins and picking up new clients, life hadn’t settled in months—neither had her mind.

Padding over to the front door, the peep hole revealed an empty doorstep and the furrow of her brow deepened when she opened it to find flowers. Crisp white roses.

Every Saturday for the last month she’d unlocked her front door and found the same thing. Roses, always white ones, never a note attached. At one point there was strong consideration of the possibility of having a stalker.

 Then she promptly came to what she deemed a sophisticated conclusion, that the flower delivery was for the previous owner of the house and when they moved they forgot to end the service.

Unfortunate for them, but with no contact information available, she just decided to take advantage of the plight. She always did love roses and the neutral florals could be placed anywhere in her home without clashing.

Upon inspection of this newest delivery, the small white card neatly folded over and tucked into the front of the vase stops her in her tracks. A note. Warily reaching to retrieve it, the contents make her stomach flip.

 Five months. It’d been five months since she even laid eyes on him and there was no way that he would choose today of all random days to start being amorous. Unless there actually was a stalker, there was no other person that this could have come from.

“𝑆𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒𝑠 𝐼 𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑜𝑑𝑦 𝑤𝑎𝑠ℎ 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑙𝑒𝑓𝑡, 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑠𝑜 𝐼 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑟𝑒𝑚𝑒𝑚𝑏𝑒𝑟 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑠𝑚𝑒𝑙𝑙 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒.”—𝑅 

February 7

“𝐼 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑤𝑒𝑎𝑟 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 ℎ𝑎𝑖𝑟 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 ℎ𝑎𝑙𝑓 𝑢𝑝 𝑠𝑡𝑦𝑙𝑒”—𝑅

February 14.

“𝐼 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑘 𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒 𝑖𝑛 𝑇𝑢𝑟𝑘𝑠 𝑎 𝑙𝑜𝑡. 𝑇ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑚𝑦 𝑓𝑖𝑟𝑠𝑡 𝑣𝑎𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑒𝑠 𝑑𝑎𝑦 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑜𝑛𝑒.”—𝑅

The photo he’d attached was one she’d never seen before, though she remembered the moment clearly.

On a private beach in Turks and Caicos. He sat with her perched on his lap, just minutes after attempting to convince her to take off her bikini top. Vowing that there was nobody around to witness his spontaneous attempts to engage in such debauchery. He swore that it was just them and the ocean—and their waiter evidently.

February 21

“𝑊ℎ𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝐼 𝑠𝑚𝑒𝑙𝑙 𝑙𝑎𝑣𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝐼 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑘 𝑜𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢” —𝑅

February 28

“𝐼 𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑘𝑒𝑒𝑝 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑝𝑖𝑙𝑙𝑜𝑤 𝑜𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑙𝑒𝑓𝑡 𝑠𝑖𝑑𝑒.”—𝑅

March 7

“𝑀𝑦 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑠 ℎ𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑚𝑒. 𝐼 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑛𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 ℎ𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢.”—𝑅

March 14

“𝐼 𝑑𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑚 𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒𝑠.”—𝑅 

March 21

“𝑌𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑠𝑙𝑖𝑝𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑙𝑒𝑓𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑚. 𝑤𝑎𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑦𝑜𝑢.”—𝑅

March 28

“𝐼 𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑠 𝑦𝑜𝑢.”—𝑅 

𝐀𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐥 𝟒, 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟔

It was early in the day when they arrived.

“𝐺𝑒𝑜𝑟𝑔𝑖𝑜'𝑠. 𝑇𝑜𝑛𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡. 8𝑝𝑚. 𝑤𝑒𝑎𝑟 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑚.”—𝑅

Georgios was the swanky restaurant downtown that they frequented and the night would only ever end one way. He was sorely mistaken if he believed that would be the outcome of tonight's endeavor. She has half a mind to skip out and give him a taste of how it feels to be inherently ignored.

 Sure he’d been sending these notes and they were as close to sentimental as she would get with someone like him but it doesn't completely make up for the last seven months.

She wants to hear what he has to say however, wants to know what he's been up to all this time. To see firsthand if he’d really been making good on his promise to figure things out and make things right between them.

Just as she was putting the finishing touches on her makeup, the sound of a car door slamming outside drew her attention and the ring of her doorbell called her down the stairs and into her foyer.

A driver waiting on the other side of the door to transport her to this mysterious dinner. In his hands, another bouquet of roses and a lavishly wrapped gift box.

There's no note on the flowers this time, but as she unwraps the accompanying box to discover Dolce and Gabbana's “Devotion” it's easy for her to gather his intentions.

The first thing she notices following her arrival is the usually lively business appearing void of life. He’s waiting for her inside at the one table that'd been set for just them.

Candles and flowers occupy the other vacant areas. Never having seen the place anything less than overflowing, the quiet ambiance is welcome given the circumstances. 

The kiss he plants on her cheek lingers and she's acutely aware of every inch of his body from the other side of the round booth. He’d slimmed down since the last time she's seen him.

Though she much preferred his stockier frame, she can't pretend that isn't alluring all the same. 

On the ride over she’d come to the conclusion that letting him lead the conversation was a sure way for her to fall victim to the deep timber of his voice and end up missing her panties by the end of the night.

So, before the meal even arrived she dove into the array of questions she’d conjured up to neutralize any chances of coercion. 

“Why all the flowers?” 

“One for each month we’ve been apart. The rest were just because you like em.” He responds without hesitation.

“Why white?”

“Peace offerings” she turns her head to hide a growing smile. 

“And the notes?”

“I wanted you to know that I'd been thinking about you.”

“It's gonna take more than flowers and a dinner date to fix things ya know.”

“i know.”

“Why didn't you call?

“Would you have answered?” the waiter makes his first appearance of the night to pour two glasses of her favorite wine. 

“I don't know.” When he reaches to grab for her fingers across the table a moment for collection is needed. She couldn't remember the last time they’d even held hands and he let her bask in the silence for a while longer before pushing on.

“What are you thinking?” his thumb caresses the back of her knuckles. 

“That I don’t trust you. You never let me in. All we do is fuck and pretend everything's ok, thats not a relationship Roman. I'm getting older. I wanna retire soon and travel. I wanna get married and have a baby or something. There's things that I want from life that I don’t think you’re able to give—”

“I’d give you anything you want. You wanna travel, just say where and we’ll go. You wanna retire and spend all day reading those nasty ass romance books then so be it. You wanna get married then we’ll get married. You wanna have a baby I'll gladly give you one—more than one actual—”

“It's not just about giving me what I want, Roman. You also have to want those things. If I told you I was pregnant right now you’d probably have a stroke.”

“I told you that I'm working on it, jireh.” Exasperation accompanies his words.

“What does that even mean? All you ever keep seeing is that your working on it and then it's the same shit over and over—”

“I’m in therapy now.” astonished isn't a strong enough word to describe the feeling coursing through her. She’d been screaming at him—literally, for years to see a professional and he’d finally heeded the advice.

“Like…real therapy? Or you've just been talking to the twins because if that's the case then—”

“No,” He shakes his head. Real therapy. With a real therapist, a lady named Margot”

“Margot huh?…Is she pretty?”

“She’s 65.”

“I was just asking!” She can feel his smirk from the corner of her eye while pretending to take in the restaurant's dim scenery.

“I think you're pretty, the prettiest girl i know actually” Her plan was failing, with so much time apart she forgot just how much of a smooth talker the man could be.

“You just wanna have sex with me.” She grumbled, crossing her arms to hide the rising goosebumps.

“Of course I do. But I'd like for it to be more than that. All that stuff you said you wanted, I want to give that to you but you have to trust me.”

“How can I? Look at all that’s happened”

“And am I to blame for all of it?” his head dips striving to connect with downcast eyes.

“No,” she mumbles.

“Exactly, most of it sure, but if we can’t trust each other then all of this is in vain baby.”

“I want to, I really do, but every time things are normal you flip shit on its head.”

“and I'm sorry. I really am but I don't know what else to say to prove to you that this time I'm serious about making shit right.”

It often felt like they were having the same argument time and time again without ever coming to a real resolve. 

“Tell me what you talk about in therapy?”

“You.”

“Be serious.”

“I am.”

“I’m not all you talk about in therapy roman.”

“I talk about other things, but mainly you”

“What are the other things?”

“Work, you, the twins, my paren—”

“Tell me about your parents. Every time I asked before you dodged the question.” A muscle quivers at his jaw, the same way it did all the other times she’d asked. When he begins looking around the otherwise vacant restaurant, she’s sure he’ll change the subject. 

The surprise is surely evident on her face when he doesn’t. 

“What do you wanna know?”

“Why do you hate them so much?”

“My mom was his mistress and when she got pregnant with me he left her. My parents got married after my dad's wife found out he’d cheated. I was almost five by that point. Mom never wanted kids. Dad wanted to be with his other family. I didn't get nice clothes and warm home cooked dinners growing up. Wore the wrong size shoes to school for almost five years— hell If I didn't go to school with the twins I probably wouldn't have made it to school most days."

“When my mom died, my dad kicked me out the day of the funeral. I was sixteen. The first birthday gift I ever got was the day I turned seventeen, the twins mom was big on stuff like that. Growing up all I did was cry and beg for them to give me the time of day I swore that I would never do that again for anybody ever. The day my dad died was the happiest I'd felt in years, Jireh.” sliding around the booth until their thighs were flush, her arms wrapped around his shoulder pulling him into a silent embrace. Tears pooling in her lashline. 

“I’m not a good man. I'm not kind and I'm not patient but for you I'd do whatever it takes. If you wanted me to get on my knees and beg, I'd do it right now. I’m miserable baby” Pulling back she looks him in the eye, taking the time to caress the skin of his face. 

“You're not a bad person, you've just spent your whole life trying to survive. It's time to start living, papa.”

Embraces him again, her head rests against his consolingly. 

The gnawing question in the back of her mind is too invasive after some time in the silence and she can't help but let it out.

“Can I ask you another question?” she can feel his nod against her shoulder

“How’d you get my address?” The snicker he lets out is uncharacteristically loud and for the first time in months there's a semblance of normalcy.

–

When dinner is had and the conversation begins to fade they make their way to the front of the restaurant. 

“Coulda sworn I told you to wear something warm.”

“And I could swear that we’re in the middle of Miami…this is warm.” gesturing down to the long sleeve minidress molded to her body. His eyes slip past her torso to the extent of her exposed legs.

“Not exactly what I meant”

“What? Can't stand the sight of my grotesque figure?” she cocks her head to the side, raising a brow in challenge.

“Grotesque isn't the word I would use” he murmurs, eyes raking over her body enticingly slow.

“In your dreams” she mocks, stomping off to her awaiting vehicle. He follows behind her and her heart rate spikes the minute he slides into the vehicle after her, slamming the door closed.

Though they just sat across from each other for hours, being in an enclosed space this way brought back too many memories of impromptu sexual endeavors that surely would have gotten them arrested if discovered. 

“And where do you think you're going?” she tosses out, pressing her body as far into the opposite corner as physically possible. Amusement flickered in the eyes that met hers.

“I’m not following you home Jireh,” He chuckled at her antics. “But, I never said our night was over.” 

Through the entire ride to their mystery destination she stole glances at him in her peripheral vision. A few times she fully turned her head pretending to gaze out of the other window.

She gave that up on her last attempt when she found him already gazing at her, jestfully blowing her a kiss once their eyes connected. She’d whipped her head around and hadn't moved it since, until, the vehicle rolled to a stop on what looked like an airplane runway.

“Are you trying to kidnap me?” His answer is drowned out by the loud whoosh of air surrounding them. When it comes to an end she turns her body to glance out of the rear windshield. A sleek black helicopter filling her vision. 

An unexpected warmth surged through her. “You remembered,” she whispered in his direction, voice shakier than she would have liked. Once again surprised by his unpredictability.

“I remember everything about you Ji.” Their driver opening the door whisks away the tension in the air and they’re escorted onto the awaiting aircraft. 

“It's gonna be fine,” he murmurs into her ear, helping her buckle the safety harness. “These guys are the best in the business.” he promises before leaning back and buckling his own.

When they start to rise she unconsciously lands a hand on his thigh and feels the supple muscle tense under her grip. Calloused fingers trail over her knuckles, relaxing their hold and intertwining their palms. 

𝐀𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐥 𝟏𝟖𝐭𝐡, 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟔

Though he’d been regularly clocking into work with the lead up to such a momentous event and there was the possibility of them regularly crossing paths, he’d made it a point to give her isolated time to consider their relationship. Each week a new time and location arrived with her regular floral delivery and each week it became more challenging not to jump his bones wherever they ended up.

Before the busy season of media and interviews stole him away he’d rented out an entire botanic garden. For hours they talked and ate—he’d even obtained a water painting art kit for her to enjoy. When she asked why he’d only gotten one he proceeded to tell her that the art he’d wanted to see was right in front of him before boldly raking his eyes down her figure. On their ride back to her home she’d had to forcefully stop herself from climbing into his lap. 

She’d hadn't seen much from him since then. She wouldn't hold it against him given how important the upcoming weekend was. He’d made sure she was taken care of however. She and the twins were upgraded to first class on their flights and the penthouse suite she’d been conveniently upgraded to was one of the only two rooms on the floor.

 It sent a shudder down her spine in a garbled sense of deja vu. The last time they were in these circumstances she let him do unspeakable things after a simple “I’m sorry”. Giving into sexual advances would be counterproductive but after so long partaking in voluntary celibacy, even the thought of him has her running hot below the belt.

 A knock on the door hinders a trip down memory lane and she all but runs to answer in hopes to escape the explicit fantasies creeping up her spine. Opening the door reveals the star of said fantasies holding a bouquet of blood red roses and she has to grip the edge of the door to keep her knees from buckling.

“Delivery's a lil late today.” his voice is raspy from overuse and she nods woodenly brain still unable to escape the suggestive visions flashing behind dreamy eyes.

Extending the flowers out to me he takes a step back.Glancing down, I notice another one of the small cards inked with his handwriting. Peering up at him suspiciously he appears to be waiting for me to read it.

𝑇𝑖𝑚𝑒𝑠 𝑢𝑝. 𝑇𝑖𝑚𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑒 ℎ𝑜𝑚𝑒. —𝑅

 He’s speaking before she even finishes reading.

“I’m not good at this. I won't pretend to all of a sudden be some sappy and shit but I want you Jireh. I want us. It’s not fair for you to always be chasing after me. Whatever I have to do to meet you where you're at, I'll do it.” 

She still hasn't picked her head up from the bouquet. 

“Why’d you put me in this room?”

“Needed you close by. We’ve spent too much time apart.”

“Think I've heard that before,”.

“Well this isn't like before. I'm serious about what I said.”

“which part”

“All the parts. If you want to get married we can go downstairs right now. I'm sure there's a chapel open somewhere. You don't want a chapel, we'll rent out a museum. Anything you want.” Stepping closer he allows his voice to dip just for her ears though there's no one else around to see how close they stand. You wanna have a baby, I'll gladly put one in you all you have to do is ask. You want me to build you a house from the ground up. I'll do it. anything you want i’ll do it but you have to trust me to take care of you.”

A tense silence passes between them and after what feels like centuries she finally lifts her head with a nod. “Ok”

“Ok?”

“I’ll trust you..but I have rules.”

A quick twitch of his lips precedes his hasty agreement, not giving her time to change her mind. “let me hear i—”

“You can't quit therapy just because we’re back together.”

"Ok”

“And I want us to go to couples therapy… like twice a month”

“ok”

“and we need to get a dog before we have a baby, I need to make sure you have what it takes”

His smile widens. “whatever you want.”

“right—and for a while we can't live together if we’re starting from scratch.”

he lets out a deep sigh running a hand over his beard. “ok no living together—”

“and you need to decorate your house, we wouldn't always have to be at mine if yours wasn't barren like a hospital”

“hire someone to decorate…ok”

“and no sex— “

His eyes go comically wide. “wait a sec—”

“Let me finish talking. No sex unless you come back here tomorrow night with a title. I don’t fuck losers”

He laughed then, sincerely amused by her ultimatum. “Yes ma’am.”

“ok..good..glad we’re on the same page. well good luck tomorrow…goodnight.”

“Goodnight jireh.” even with her body half turned back into her doorway she can hear the playfulness in his tone.

From the corner of her eye she watches him back away slowly. There's only so much restraint a woman can have. Quickly setting the flowers on the ground and calling out to him. His brows raise in a question that never earns a chance to escape his parted lips. Wrapping around the fabric of his top she heaves him forward. Flushing the curves of her body to the exaggeratedly defined hard planes of his. 

He keeps her cradled close to his chest while sneaky hands descend and attach to the firm muscle of her backside groping and reacclimating to the expanse of it. Tongues collide in slippery caresses. biting and sucking at each other with enough fervor to provoke a loud moan, which one of them it came from is a mystery. 

When her hands begin a scandalous descent down the expanse of his chest, it's him that pulls away with labored breaths. No words are spoken between them and she's gone as quick as she arrived. “Same time tomorrow?" he questions cheekily to her retreating figure.

“In your dreams” she returns without looking back, cheeks flushed. scooping up the discarded florals and slamming the door behind her. She can hear his laugh echo into the empty hallway from where she's firmly planted on the other side. The giddiness unfolding in her body makes her feel that of a school girl with their first crush. Burying her nose in the flowers and taking a deep whiff she can't help but let out a silent scream jumping around in unadultured excitement.

—

Watching him maneuver around the ring did nothing to throttle the arousal lingering in her from the previous night. It was rare for her to watch matches from in the crowd but upon his request she watched from the seats at ring side. She didn’t miss the way he stole glances at her through the night and her thighs clenched each time their eyes connected through the mayhem.

It’d been a long time since she saw confetti rain down in such perfect harmony. Four whole years since. Parading around with his accomplishments held high over his head felt like twisted deja vu, somehow back exactly where they started all that time ago.

Hair unkempt and body battered he rolled out of the ring, leaving his newest title behind. The crowd's deafening roar fell silent on her ears the closer he got. Standing parallel, separated only by the squat barricade she raises her eyebrows in anticipation. She's partially aware of all the cameras pointed in their direction but when he leans closer into her space engulfing her in a sweaty embrace he’s the only thing she can focus on.

 Any other time she would chastise him for covering her in the perspiration but with his voice resounding in her ear she pays it no mind. “Maybe we should skip the dog and try for that baby.” 

Pulling back to look into her eyes he can see the playful recognition of her previous specifications. Gripping onto the forearms wrapped around her waist she extends her neck to place her mouth at his ear whispering a sweet, “In your dreams”. Before attaching her mouth to his in a hungry kiss and the reverberation from the crowd carries them away.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞| well friends, this is the official end of Dear Desperado, anything else that gets written for these two will be AU's or shorts. cant believe I finished a series what the helly! Thank you guys for reading all this craziness and I may or may not have a short coming within the next few days.