Page 12 of Weddings on the West: Vol. I Brick & Destiny

“You looked busy,” I said with a scowl. Did he expect me to just walk up and hop in the middle of their conversation?

“Yeah, my bad about that. She’s… a friend.” He looked up at my hair, frowned, then tucked his lips in like he was trying his hardest not to say something.

“Okay…” I really didn’t need to hear an explanation of his dealings with that girl. I wasn’t jealous, but still. We paused our conversation to order lunch, and my attitude quickly returned when the waitress was seemingly offering much more than what was available on the menu.

“Brick, why am I here?” I asked quickly before another woman could come to the table and offer him sex.

“I thought you and I could talk,” he answered coolly. He always seemed to have a confident demeanor about him, like he could talk a woman right out of her panties at the same time he negotiated a billion-dollar deal. “It seems like our parents have been trying to make a lot of decisions for us, but we haven’t even had a real conversation. You up for that?” he asked.

“That’s fine.” I could admit that I was a little taken aback by his maturity. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure, what is it?”

“Why are you doing this? It’s obvious you don’t need help getting the attention of a woman. How did you end up being a part of this craziness?” He sighed and looked off, seemingly debating on how much he wanted to share with me.

“My mother is a lunatic. She feels like I need to be married to inherit the family business, so she’s basically forcing my hand in getting married or else I lose everything I’ve worked my ass off for.” I stared at him in silence, trying to decipher if this was serious or some weird joke.

“So, why me?” I probed.

“She picked you. I guess the thing with your pops offered up the opportunity.”

“But… why?” I couldn’t help but wonder out loud.

“Shit… I don’t know. I can’t even hold you… You not my type at all.”

“Likewise.” I chuckled and raised my brows.

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” His face twisted up to convey his offense. I had to laugh. The fact that he was handsome was undeniable. Younger me probably would have had a huge crush on him. Grown me knew better than to even wish for those problems. He kept his hair cut low with waves, and his facial hair was neatly trimmed. He was a pretty boy with a little edge, and I could tell that he could easily fit in on a corner, in a boardroom, or even on a football field, because he looked like he worked out often.

“I always wanted a God-fearing man. Like my daddy.”

This time he was the one to laugh, so hard that he snorted.

“That’s funny?” I asked with a raised brow.

“I think we both know that if your pops was all that ‘God-fearing,’ we wouldn’t be sitting here having this conversation right now.” I didn’t answer, just bit down on my bottom lip because I refused to argue with someone that I knew was right. His eyes fixed on my bottom lip before he corrected himself.

“My fault, keep goin’.”

“Someone who is a leader, a protector, a provider. Just a good man… and patient.”

“Well, I can be all of that… except patient. I’m impatient as fuck, Peep.” Something in me stirred at the nickname, and all I could do was pray that my face didn’t give me away. I knew he probably gave every woman in his vicinity a nickname, so I refused to bite the bait.

“And someone who doesn’t curse,” I said, cutting my eyes at him.

“Shit,” he said with a chuckle. “I guess my ass is out the running because there ain’t no muhfuckin’ way.” He threw his hands up playfully, and I couldn’t help but smile.

“Okay, well tell me about your dream wife, was it Ms. Lil’ Skirt, or Ms. Can-I-Get-You-Anything-Else?” I said the last part in the most overly sexual way that I could, making him laugh. At this point we were going laugh for laugh, and I was pretty sure that I was in the lead.

“Nah… Well, I don’t know. I don’t know either of them like that to know, and I never really thought about having a wife before. It was never in the plans for me.”

“Well, think about it now and tell me what comes to mind.” He licked his lips and sat back, contemplating for a few moments before he spoke again.

“I deal with a lot of shit. My ideal woman would have to be someone who I could come home to after a day of chaos and find my peace.”

“So, a doormat? Someone who just shuts up and goes with the flow so they don’t stress you out?” I challenged. If he wanted someone to walk all over, this arrangement wouldn’t make it past lunch. My mom always tried to drill that particular brand of obedience into me, but it never quite stuck.

“Nah, like a best friend. Yes, call me out when I’m wrong, but still be that anchor in this shit storm we call life. It’s really that simple.”