I closed the door behind him, shaking my head.
“You don’t listen.”
“I listen,” he said, setting everything down. “I just don’t accept shit that don’t make sense.”
I folded my arms. “Me needing space don’t make sense to you?”
He walked closer to me.
“I already spoke my case.”
I let out a deep breath. “You don’t know if it’s even fixed.”
“I do,” he said, placing his hand on my hip. “You just need to trust me.”
I looked at him, really looked deep into his eyes.
“And if I don’t?”
He already knew where I was going with my question, and he smiled.
“Then, until you do, I will show you why you should.”
My stomach flipped.
“You are doing a lot,” I said, looking slightly into the bags he brought in.”
“I ain’t even started yet, mamas,” he responded.
I walked over to my dinner, making sure I wasn’t fuckin’ shit up, and he followed me with a Gucci bag in his hand, placing it on the counter across from me.
“Open it,” he said.
I finished stirring my noodles and did.
“You can’t buy me to fix things.”
He smirked. “I’m glad I can’t, I wasn’t trying to.”
I put my spoon down.
“Then what are you doin’?”
He leaned against the counter. “Showing you that I’m not letting you walk away easy from something real.”
My chest tightened again.
“I have my own shit I need to work through. I don’t know if I can handle all of this.”
“I know you do, and I was sent to help you.”
Silence filled the room for a second. I thought about sayin’ no, I really did. But the way he was standing there, the way he didn’t waver, the way he kept showin’ me that he wasn’t gonna switch up…I couldn’t let go.
I exhaled slow.
“You don’t make shit easy,” I muttered.
“I’m not supposed to,” he said. “You are worth it.”