Love Undefeated (Unexpected #5) (28 page)

Xavier took a long look at Devon. “I doubt it.”

Devon raised his hands, “Fine. I’m completely serious about what I said about Nalee. But you gotta know, man. I’d never poach my brother’s woman.”

Xavier gently pulled my shoulder against him, his shoulders were still tense, but he at least he wasn’t leading us out of the bar anymore.

“Did you really hit on Nalee?” Xavier pondered before kissing my forehead. My Sea Breeze had officially taken root in my veins because somehow the amount I sipped made my sight just a teeny bit wobbly. I hadn’t drank much after college. The occasional sips of wine for business and margaritas for pleasure were put to a stop as soon as I learned that I was pregnant. Ever since then, I haven’t had the urge to indulge in a bar.

Devon took a swig of his drink and said, “Yes.”

Xavier lifted his free hand and I saw Devon’s head jerk forward.

“That’s for hitting on my girlfriend,” Xavier glared, though his tone didn’t have as much punch as it did before.

Then Xavier took his money from the counter.

“You’re paying tonight.” His directive towards Devon fell on deaf ears because Devon just merely smirked.

“You work for your dad,” Devon said, attacking the additional order of buffalo wings that the server had delivered to our mini food party.

“So?” Xavier shot him an annoyed look.

“Your dad’s company has mucho moola which makes you uber rich, so dinner’s on you, brotha.”

“You hit on my girlfriend, you wanna introduce her to Mrs. Wahler, who by the way, when you talk to her, can you let her know I miss her lemon drops,” Xavier answered, a wry smile formed on his lips. “To top it all, you asked me if she was marriage material.”

Devon didn’t say anything, the side of his mouth lifted as his gaze landed on the TV.

Guys, men, boys who grew up to be men. The male population. Dudes. I’d never understand them. One minute they looked like they were going to go UFC on each other. Another hot minute they’re trading off insults.

“Aight. Dinner’s on me,” Devon replied, “Order up, Nalee. This may be the last time you eat a good meal. Tell your man here that Burger King and McDonald’s ain’t cutting it.”

This time, I let out a hearty laugh.

It wasn’t every day that I witnessed this type of absurd male bonding. They said women were dramatic, emotionally unstable, sensitive.

If you’d been around men, well, guys like Xavier and Devon, you’d know that the same truths hold for men.

Xavier asked the bartender to refill my glass.

I leaned into his shoulder and his green eyes bore down on me, scanning my face, grazing my lips without touching me. He didn’t have to say anything. I knew. Just with the way he was looking at me with so much muted heat and speechless tenderness, he’d always hold my heart.

“Ahem.” It was Devon, making his presence known.

Xavier caressed my shoulder with his thumb, the touch slowly igniting the simmering flame that only he could squelch.

I had delayed talking to Xavier about Devon because I’d been busy.

Maybe there was a part of me that cherished the attention of another guy, but not once did I ever think of crossing the line.

I wasn’t dishonest with Xavier. I knew he was frat friends with Devon and I wasn’t going to go in between them.

Some women like ménage à trois. I couldn’t handle that complicated stuff. I was happy with deux.

Me and Xavier.

Xavier pulled his gaze away from me and turned to face Devon. “Yes.”

Devon’s brows touched. “What now?”

“Yes to what you said earlier.”

“Huh?” Devon iterated as I slowly let the heavenly fruity concoction trail a burn inside my throat.

“Nalee’s marriage material,” Xavier said, his hand never leaving my shoulder.

We’d talked about marriage. He’d just never brought it up in public, so please, give me a moment to catch my breath and not choke on my drink.

“Wise man you are,” Devon said, his Yoda-speak making me giggle. “Ring on her you put.”

Xavier chuckled, “Yeah. Annoying dick you are.”

Devon raised his glass for a toast, Xavier clanked his and I kept on sipping.

I’m pretty sure men didn’t just have their crises in midlife when they’re fifty.

They started when they were twenty something.

Around other men.

Who just happened to be their frat brothers.

“Thank you for meeting with me, sir.” I shook his hand as soon as he reached my table.

I’d met him twice before. Once at our college graduation and the second time at a Christmas dinner.

He looked like he did the last time I saw him. Salt and pepper hair, light blue eyes that crinkled at the sides when he smiled, and a hard stare that could reduce a man into a blubbering mess.

“I have to be back at the site by two, son. I can’t stay that long.” He sat down and folded the napkin on his lap and grabbed the menu.

“I understand. Thank you for seeing me on such short notice.” So short in fact that I’d called him at five o’clock yesterday and had Claire book me for a red eye.

He tilted his head and drank the glass of water with lemon that I’d asked the server to bring for him.

“What brings you here?” Cut and dry, this man didn’t beat around the bush. “It’s a long way from California to have lunch.”

I drank two glasses of chocolate milk on the plane instead of booze. I wanted to be mellow and be my confident self. Maybe I should have ordered wine instead. The cheerful flight attendant was taken aback when I’d ordered a glass of chocolate milk. What can I say? Some people ate mac and cheese, chocolate milk was my comfort drink.

“I want to marry Nalee, sir,” I blurted out, my hands all sorts of clammy and why the hell was it so hot in this joint? They needed to crank the a/c ten degrees lower because I was sweating under my shirt.

He opened his mouth and closed it as fast. He then grabbed a piece of bread from the bread basket, slathered a tub of butter on it, and started chewing.

“I’m serious, sir.” Nales had mentioned that her dad had to watch his cholesterol. Was that MUCH butter good for him?

Jesus Jones, now he’s eating just the butter, without the bread.

“Sir?” I said, tapping my hands under my seat. “Are you okay?”

I read somewhere that eating gobs of butter could cause diarrhea. I’m not sure if that’s true, but if it was, I’d hate to be Mr. Sands at a construction site and have to deal with the runs. That wouldn’t be a pleasant situation.

He put his right hand up, as if asking for a moment, and then proceeded to eat more of the bread.

As for me, I couldn’t stop talking. “I love her very much. I promise to take care of her and make her happy. We’ve gone through some bad shhii- stuff, and I have faith in her. I have faith in us. I believe that we’ll weather whatever storm comes our way.” I kept going, Mr. Sands was still eating. We hadn’t even ordered the main course and he was stuffed with carbs already. “I can’t imagine my life without her. I thought I could but I couldn’t…”

Finally, freaking finally, he stopped chewing and took in a deep breath.

He didn’t say anything for the first few seconds, the silence stretched between us. I heard the incessant chatter around us, but I couldn’t absorb any coherent conversation. The only words I was interested in were those of the man sitting on the other side of the table. The man who had helped give life to the woman of my dreams. The man who before any others was the man that Nales looked up to. He was the measure that I could only hope to live up to.

The server approached us. “Would you like to order?”

The man sitting opposite of me and who wore flannel like a business suit stated, “Not yet. Can you give us a few? I’ll let you know when we’re ready.”

The server gave a half-nod, half-smile, “Okay, just let me know when you’re ready.” He refilled our glasses of water then left.

“I know lots of men wished they had a boy…” He looked straight at me, the casual way he wore flannel reminded me of just how different he and my dad were. While my dad lived in suits, this man commanded an army everyday wearing wool in plaid or tartan patterns.

His gaze didn’t waver, his voice clear in the middle of the noisy restaurant. “I loved having girls. To me, they were the apples of my eyes. When Geniah was about ten, she used to pull her sister’s hair a lot and they would get into a fight. Nalee would let her sister win. All the time. You know why she did?”

I’m sure he didn’t want me to answer so I merely nodded.

“I was curious why Nalee wouldn’t fight with her sister so I asked her and she said, ‘Because, Daddy, she’s my sissy. I know she doesn’t wanna be mean to me. She’s just having a hard time at school.’” He paused, looking like he was sifting through his brain’s memory bank, reliving that moment in time. “My two girls...they’re my contribution to this world. Their mom and I, we tried our very best to give them a good life. I might have spoiled them a bit. What father wouldn’t? But I honestly believe that they’ve become self-sufficient and loving women because of their mama and me.”

I let the man talk. I couldn’t even move in this metal chair because I wasn’t quite sure on how to gauge his reaction. Was he happy that I was asking for Nalee’s hand? Was he going to give me his blessing?

“I don’t know who you are,” he said frankly. “You haven’t been around me, around us for me to take stock if you’re a good man for my daughter or not. I can only go by what she tells her mama because honestly, even when they’re fifty, it would still be hard for me to hear them talk about boys without me wanting to load up my shotgun and put the fear into those boys; that if they ever hurt my daughters, they won’t live to see another day.”

All of a sudden, my throat felt parched, my pants were feeling mighty sweaty, and for Good-fucking-ness’ sake, where the fuck is the a/c vent in this place?

“Sir, I…” My voice might have come out high-pitched and did I just croak?

“You say you love my daughter?” he asked, his right hand on top of the left hand on the table.

“Yes sir,” I said without hesitation.

“Have you ever made her cry?” The steel in his eyes was making my insides melt just a little. Okay, fine, my heart was pitter-pattering a mile a minute and if Nalee’s dad continued with his interrogation, I might have to wear my wee-wee pants tonight because I’d be having a nightmare.

“I have, sir,” I answered truthfully. I could lie and say no, but I couldn’t do it with a straight face, especially to my future father-in-law.

“Will you do it again?”

“I’ll try very hard not to,” I replied, my hands wringing on my lap. “It hurts me to see her cry. More than I ever thought it would. I can’t live with myself if I made her cry again.”

“You will,” he said, the certainty in his voice unnerving.

I’m torn. Torn between wanting to defend myself and proving him wrong. He’s the father of my future wife. I needed to be in good graces with him.

“Sir, I will…” I tried to say more, but his waved his hand, cutting off what I was going to say.

“You will make her cry again.” From the vibe I was getting from him, I’m guessing he didn’t want me to contradict him, so I took a sip of my water. “I’ve been married to my wife for thirty two years. I’m pretty sure I’ve made her cry more times than I can count on my fingers. I’m obstinate, opinionated, and stubborn. I drew the luck of the draw when she married me.”