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Do I ever.

I cleared my throat. “Very much.”

“Come here.”

His command was my wish . . . or whatever they said.

Once I was in his arms, he rubbed circles around my naked back. “Talk to daddy. What you wanna do today?”

I thought about it and shrugged. “I don’t know. I just feel like I need to do something. I can’t just sit around for the rest of my life. Besides, don’t you need to send the company an email and let them know what’s going on?”

“Yeah. I wanted to talk to you about that. Go ahead and get dressed.” He patted my ass, and I giggled.

He loved touching me, and the sentiment was returned tenfold. I peeled myself away from him and quickly dressed in some biker shorts and an oversized blue shirt before I joined him on my bed.

Apparently, I wasn’t close enough because he pulled me toward him, and I giggled as I settled in between his legs while he sat against the headboard.

“What you wanna do wit’ yo’ life, Yaya?”

His question threw me off guard for a second, but I recovered quickly. “I always wanted to work with kids in some capacity. I wanted to be a kindergarten teacher for the longest, but with my disease, I’m not really sure I’ll really be able to do that. When I’m good, then I’m good, but when I’m having flares, you know all about the doctor appointments and the sick days.”

“What about a substitute teacher?”

I shrugged. “I mean, that doesn’t really make enough money to live off.”

“Forget money, fave. I’m sayin’, if you had the money, what would you do with your life? Would you even want to work?”

“If I had the money, I would take the next few years to go to school and then become a substitute elementary school teacher. That would be ideal for me because I can pick up shifts whenever they needed me, and if I wasn’t able to work on a given day, no harm, no foul. And with the rest of my time . . .” I thought about it. What would I do, given the luxury? “I would want to do something to raise money for the Crohn’s and Colitis foundation. Maybe make candles or a clothing line or something, . . . and all the money would go toward raising money for a cure for my disease.”

“This why I love you.”

My heart skipped a beat. “You say that so easily.”

“Because you’re easy to love. You make me wanna be a better man.”

“How so?” I asked.

I felt him shrug behind me. “You just have a good heart. I don’t really fuck wit’ people like that.”

I snorted. “I’ve noticed.”

He smoothed my hair away from my face and kissed the top of my head. “But you’re so nice and willin’ to help mothafuckas. I respect that. I love that about you.”

“Thanks,” I whispered. Sometimes I felt completely vulnerable with Gino, like he saw everything about me and simply wanted to love all the little pieces that made me me. It wasn’t a bad thing. Just something to get used to.

“I was thinkin’ ’bout givin’ you the company. Grant Your Wish Designs.”

My eyes widened, and then my nose wrinkled as I turned to look at him. “Really?”

He nodded. “I don’t want it. I want to go in a different direction.”

“What are you going to do?” I asked, curious about his dreams. I knew he was in the streets. After so long doing one thing, I wondered what his next move would be.

He shrugged. “Real estate, maybe? Honestly, somethin’ I can choose to be hands on with or not. Somethin’ that will make money whether I’m in the building or not.”

I nodded. “Sounds like you’re ready to slow down.”

“Settle down and have some babies,” he said, and then he tickled my sides.