Please excuse ANY grammatical errors.

March 9, 1999

~Grandma Bobbi~

"I'm taking you and grandpa out for dinner. It's a nice spot, so please dress for the occasion," Tia spoke to me over the phone.

"Dressy attire?" I asked her.

"Yes, ma'am," she replied. "You know you and grandpa could've stayed at my home, still can. I have plenty of room just as long as you don't invite anyone over," she spoke to me.

"We're already booked though, so there's nothing to worry about. Well stay where we are," I told her.

"Well, we'll come and pick the two of you up. It'll be Donald, our security, and myself. Is that okay?" She inquired.

"That's fine. It would be nice for us to sit back while somebody else is driving for a change," I chuckled.

"So... I would need the address and the room number just in case you and grandpa don't answer y'all's cell phones. The two of you are great at that," she halfway joked.

"It's the technology. It's becoming more difficult by the second," I told her.

I gave her the address to the hotel, as well as our hotel room.

"Okay, we'll be there at six o'clock sharp. Please be ready. Alright. I love you, bye."

"I love you too," I told her then hung up the phone, then turned to my husband who came to the table, sitting our breakfast down on the table. "Tia will be picking us up at six o'clock sharp and we have to wear dressy attire. Business casual," I told him.

"Oh, okay. She's taking us out?" He asked her. "Oh, how the tables have turned. It's not new, but it's still shocking. I'm proud of her."

"She's a lot like Ella. Determined," I replied.

Anthony, my son, made an appearance in the food court of the hotel with plates of breakfast.

"Good morning," my husband was the one to speak first.

My husband and my son don't have much of a relationship due to the things he's done in the past that could've potentially put him and me at risk. Anthony went to jail but was let out early for killing his girlfriend, and then hiding the evidence. The gun he killed her with just happened to be my husband and I's gun that my son stole from our safe.

"Good morin'," Anthony spoke to both of us.

"Good morning," I spoke to my son.

"So- uh, I got in contact with Yasir and he's down for meeting up with me. I'm trying to make things right and that's my only son and my oldest child," he told us.

"Good luck with that. It's been thirty-five years. Thirty-five years too long. I hope everything goes well for you," I smiled.

There's nothing else that I can say to my son.

"How's Tia?" My son asked me. "Camiley told me that y'all went to see her yesterday."

"We did and we sat there for hours talking about some of everything. She's doing well. We're going out with her sometime today," I replied to him, not telling him exactly when.

"What did say when you mentioned me?" My son sat back in his seat.

"Tia just said she didn't get any phone calls from you. Listen, if they don't forgive or just don't want anything to do with you, then you just have to move on with your life as you've been doing all of these years," my husband told him.

After breakfast, my husband and I went to visit Yasir and Tia's mother, along with her husband. Out of ALL the women my son chose to have kids with, she is the BEST mother. She's a great mother in general. She always made sure her kids were provided for. She raised two well-mannered children. I babysat them a few times, and they're both quiet, especially Tia. Yasir would help Tia do certain things because she was so young.

Their mother reminds me much of myself. I was once a single mother of two, except I was married. My oldest child, my first husband, was abusive and I left him. Then I had my second child, a daughter by an ex. We were just in a relationship because I swore I would never marry again. Then my husband of today came around and we eventually married. My youngest, a daughter was very young at the time that I married my husband.

My kids and husband got along just fine. Well, that is up until Anthony stole our gun out of the safe, which led to an ex-girlfriend's demise. My husband has three kids of his own, but he has all girls. One is a lesbian with kids and she isn't allowed in my home because of that. His other children are fine with me, but I have no relationship with his middle, lesbian, daughter. It's not just my religion that doesn't agree with the lesbian, gay, and whatever else lifestyle, but it's also my morals. It's against God's will to be that way.

~Anthony's P.O.V~

The waiter led me and my youngest daughter, Camiley, and her three children to the table where my son is supposed to be. I haven't seen this boy in years. I've been told that he's a spitting image of myself when I was around his age. I have five biological children. The oldest; Yasir, the second child; Danielle, the middle child; Aniya, fourth child; Tia, and my last child; Camiley. Yasir and Tia are the only ones by the same woman.

I got to spend quality time with Aniya because her mother; my ex-wife, was married at one point of time. I also played the role of dad to my ex-wife's son. I was probably around for the first two years of Aniya's life. While I was married, Yasir would come over and we would spend time with us too. He and my step son, at the time, were around the same age, Yasir was a little younger.

Camiley has had me in her life since she was born. Her mother and I aren't married, but we've been in a long on and off relationship. We have our little fall out, I've stepped out quite a few times, but my girlfriend has always been forgiving. She sometimes wants to kick me out, but she gets worried about where I'll stay, so nothing happens.

"Man, I don't even know why I came," Yasir stood up from his seat to leave once he saw my face.

"To talk," I told him.

"Why is she here if you want to speak with me? You couldn't do that alone?" Yasir asked me.

"Don't talk to my daddy like that," Camiley snapped at Yasir.

"Aye, YOU don't talk to me like that. You don't know me like that," Yasir frowned at her. "You always been an angry person. Thinkin' somebody tryin' to take your sorry excuse of a father from you. Newsflash, he IS and has ALWAYS been a deadbeat to ALL his kids except for you."

"Nigga, you don't talk to me like that," Camiley snapped.

"You better get her," Yasir chuckled as he pointed to me.

"Calm down," I told my youngest child; Camiley.

"Why do you want me here?" Yasir took his seat again.

"I know I haven't been around to raise you, but-"

"It's my fault right? Ain't that what you told me when I was sixteen!? It's my fault that YOU weren't takin' care of your responsibilities! Yo ass sat right in my face and said some vile ass shit like that. You took care of everybody else's kids, BUT your own. You're a sorry excuse of a human. You know that?" Yasir squinted and Camiley was about to go off on Yasir.

"Don't say nothin'," I told her.

My girlfriend has seven other children, there's my daughter who's the youngest, she has an older daughter, and the rest are boys that are the same age or near my own kids' age. I pretty much raised her hard headed ass kids that always want to pounce on me. They're still that way. Camiley is the only biological child of mine that has always had my back.

Danielle and Tia are the only children of mine that I've NEVER been in their lives. Danielle and Aniya had a hard life growing up. Aniya's mother became a drug addict, which is why we ended in divorce. Danielle's mother is someone that I never cared about. Danielle ended up living with some old man as a child because her mother didn't care for her, she's now married to that same man and she has two children with him.

I don't condone that type of behavior, however, there is nothing that I can do because it's what my daughter wants. Aniya has one child with her thuggish boyfriend. Yasir gave me two grandchildren whom I've never met. Aniya has three children, two by an ex-boyfriend and one by her current boyfriend. She also chooses men from the streets. Tia is the only child of mine without children, but I do hear she's supposed to get married soon.

"Nah, let her defend you. If anything, she should be the ONLY one defending you. You do everybody in your life wrong, includin' her mama, and expect everybody to forgive your ass! You NEVER made an effort, a REAL one to see me and my sister," Yasir looked at Camiley, "My REAL sister. The only time you ever came around was for a summer when they released you from prison early. That's because none of those women wanted nothing to do with you. You wanted to lay up on my mother because my grandma was kickin' you out, but she wasn't havin' that shit. So you went back and settled for this girl's mother, spinning the block! You didn't come back around us because our mother didn't want your ass back. What woman that respects herself would?"

Camiley don't take up for her mother at all. Even when her mother and I argue and I'm in the wrong, she always jumped in to take my side. Even as a child. Camiley was spoiled, always had a smart mouth, and always jumped into grown people's business.

"You ain't ever been around me OR my sister, my FULL blooded sister," he looked over at Camiley. "Why now?"

"I believe anyone could right their wrongs," I told him.

"Right your wro- you've been in the wrong for far too long. You know how you made me feel? I remember this like yesterday, me and your girlfriends' kids went to the same school. I SAW you SEE me when you dropped them off at school. Your ass was sitting in the damn car and when you saw me, you turned your head away from me, hiding. You turned your fuckin' head away from me as if I was a stranger," he pointed his index and middle fingers at my face as he spoke. "Then you had the nerve to tell me I'm the reason you wasn't around. I can't get- Tia, she was innocent in all of this. What's your excuse for not bein' a father to her?" He leaned forward.

"There are no excuses."

"There has got to be one," he held his hand out at his side. "The one you had for me was it was my fault. WHAT is your excuse for not being a father to me and my baby sister?"

"Why the fuck you so mad?" I asked him. "I'm YOUR father! Respect me! I've been respectful to you since I walked in the door. I ain't raised my voice until now. You don't question me."

Yasir hopped up out of his chair, leaning forward with his hands on the table. "Respectful? That's the LEAST your ass could do. Then questions!? ALL I got are questions! That's what yo ass should expect! All OUR lives you ain't been there and you THINK you deserve respect from me!? SUDDENLY YOU'RE MY FUCKIN' FATHER? AFTER THIRTY-FIVE FUCKIN' YEARS!? FUCK YOU, YOU FAT, SLOPPY, BALD HEADED AS NIGGA!" Yasir walked away from the table and most likely out of the restaurant.

I turned to Camiley, "you see that shit? Disrespectful as fuck."

I got up out of my seat, leaving the restaurant to follow Yasir. Once I made it outside, I saw him pacing back and forth while on the phone.

"I feel like I'm finna snap," I heard Yasir say while on the phone.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, man!?" I whisper-yelled at my son. "WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU, MAN!?" I pushed his back, making him stumble a great distance. "Don't you EVER tell at me the way you just did in there! I brought you right into this world and I will take your ass out," my teeth gritted.

Yasir turned to me with his entire body emulating anger. He lifted his leg and kicked me so hard in the middle of my stomach, I fell the fuck down on my back. I'm a big man, so it'll take me a while to get the fuck up. I rolled my body a few times using all the muscles in my body.

"Why the hell you push me? As much as I wanted to hit you, I walked out instead. Why you-?" Yasir shook his head, then went into the restaurant.

Camiley came outside with her children. "What the fuck happened?" She asked, looking down at me on the ground trying to get up.

I laid back to rest for a while. "That nigga kicked me. Got my white T-shirt dirty," I said feeling out of breath.

"For what?" She asked me.

"Nothin'!" I told her.

Her nose flared, she left the kids outside with me and stormed back into the restaurant. I need to lay here for a while. I heard a bunch of yelling from Camiley coming from the restaurant. I just know that she and Yasir are arguing. Either that or she's yelling at him, trying to fight him. As soon as I made it to the front, Yasir quietly walked past me and out of the door.

~Tia's P.O.V~

"Yes?" I spoke into the phone.

"I thought you'd be on your way back like thirty minutes ago?" Donald asked me.

"Umm... Donald, I'm at work," I reminded him. "Why would I be on my way?"

"Your grandparents?" He replied in a duhhh tone.

Looking over at the time, I sighed aloud. "Oh, shit," I whispered to myself.

"Oh, shit is correct. You forgot."

"I'll have to reschedule it. I'm busy," I sighed. "I have work up to my neck and I JUST sat down. Not to mention, I didn't do much yesterday due to being out of town. The little work I did yesterday wasn't enough to compensate for today."

"Baby," Donald exhaled. "Work can WAIT. These are your grandparents. You're lucky they're healthy enough to spend QUALITY time with you, especially with their health problems. My intuition tells me that they're genuine ass people. I don't spot any type of phoniness from them. Put all that shit on hold and get home so you can get dressed. You still have time. Work will always be around, family won't, especially the elders," he explained to me as I leaned my head against the backrest of my chair, twirling in circles. "Although this is YOUR family, I'm still going whether you come or not, so no, there won't be a rain check. You asked me to make reservations and I did. I'm not canceling. This workaholic shit is going too far. We have more than enough for a new home, furniture, and our wedding. Separately and especially together."

Leaning my forehead against my forearm, I sighed heavily. "Okay."

"Okay..? As in?"

"Okay as in you're right. I'm leaving now," I shut my computer down, then went to grab my coat from the wardrobe.

"Good," I could practically hear the smile in his tone.

Then a knock interrupted our conversation, "someone is at the door, so hold, please. I don't know why my assistant didn't inform me."

"I hope it isn't another person that requires you to stay inside of your office," Donald replied.

I pulled the door open and immediately hung up in his face, literally. "What are you doing here? I'm supposed to be on my way home."

Donald gave a chuckle, "I got a bag of shit, so you can get ready here. There won't be any excuses. Plus, their hotel is closer to your workplace."

"What am I supposed to do with a bag of shit?" I inquired.

He laughed aloud, "you know what I meant."

"Babe, I'm sweaty. I told you that I JUST took a seat, meaning I've been ripping and running around all day."

"And you got the showers here for employees," he raised his eyebrows. "Yeah, I remember."

"Clearly, I forgot because I don't use them," I rolled my eyes. "Ew, a public shower." I shuttered at the thought.

"Keep doin' that shit and your eyes gon' look like this," he crossed one of his eyes with the other darting around.

I pushed him, "quit it," I laughed. "So irritating."

"I got you a hoe bag. Ain't that what y'all call it?"

"Do I look like a whore?" I raised my eyebrows. He squinted at me in deep thought. "Ughh, don't get laid out, DeGrate."

He laughed, "psyche, nah." Donald licked his lips, then moved over. "Come on, lock ya door."

"Wait, let me grab my cellphone," I told him about to fully enter my office again, but Donald grabbed my hand.

"Babe, it's in your hand," he gestured.

I shook my head, "right... That's right, I was literally speaking to you when I opened the door." I spoke while walking out and locking the door. "I'm tripping."

"Very much so," he chuckled.

"So you picked me out some clothes?" I raised my eyebrows as I turned to him.

"Yeah," he spoke as I followed him. "Didn't you say that your feet hurt?"

"They do."

"Then why are we taking the stairs?" He stopped walking and turned his entire body towards mine. "You good?"

"I was following YOU. Honestly, I wasn't paying attention to any of that," I shook my head.

"I'll carry you, but we're taking the elevator," he swooped me up. "I'm not too keen on the way you hung up in my face like that," he smirked as we stepped into the elevator.

"Bite me," I raised and dropped my eyebrows.

He pushed the floor number, then averted his eyes to me. "One day when I bite the shit out of you for telling me to. Your ass gon' be surprised as fuck too."

"Then we'll just be two dogs goin' at it," I replied, laughing as he stared at me.

"I've literally missed your ass before though," he chuckled.

"Have you? Really?" I wiggled my eyebrows, trying to remember.

"It definitely has happened," he chuckled. "You just got out of the shower at the time and you were so tired that you laid across the bed in a towel. Only I didn't know you were tired, but I came in and couldn't resist your fine ass. Kinda like right now. I started at your neck and made my way down-" he sighed. "All in all, it led to absolutely NOTHIN'," he chuckled.

"That's probably why I don't remember," I shrugged.

"That wasn't the only time. It happened plenty of times and led to somethin', but that was the first," he told me, stepping off of the elevator.

"My mind is foggy right now."

"Yeah, I see. I got shower shoes and all. You ain't missing a thing. I watch you get ready all the damn time, but to mention all the items you keep at my crib."

"You're such a great human," I told him, pinching his cheeks.

"I would hope so, I wouldn't want to be a giraffe," he moved his neck in and out. "Thanks, I guess. Ain't nobody ever told me that shit."

"Really?" My voice hitched. "Never? Even me?"

"You've told me that I'm a great boyfriend plenty of times. But a human being as a whole? Nah, I've never got that."

"Aww, but you are."

"Nahh, I could be better and completely understand why I was never told that which is due to my past actions," he placed me on my feet. "I've done and said some crazy shit."

"I love you," I pecked his lips. "Thanks for talking some sense into me too."

"It's much easier than before," he smiled. "All of your employees are home, except you, two janitors, security, and the receptionist. You're working the hell out of them and your damn self."

"Which reminds me, I need to the receptionist that they can leave," I replied. "We passed them up too. Also, I'm not overworking anyone. There's a night shift and a day shift and approximately three workers in rotation."

"And you're here everyday, afternoon, night, and sometimes overnight."

"Lies, I've NEVER spent the night at work," I chuckled.

"Might as well say that. You've come home later than eleven at night, Andrews."

"Deflection!" I shouted out while laughing. "You spend nights in your studio at home very often."

"I do, but I'm still at home though," he made a point.

"Truthfully, it does SOUND better, but it doesn't take away the fact that you're still working," I began stripping out of my clothes. "I don't sleep in my home office."

"Well... That's absolutely correct," he nodded sheepishly. "It is what it is, but we'll always have work to do, and we won't always have time to spend with those we love. Even each other."

"We spend so much time together."

"It can always be improved on both ends. I mean, yes, we have our date nights and see each other almost every day before bed, but that's after we gave most of our all to others and our work. Oh," he snapped his fingers, "and our little vacations, which we still end up working then too. But I've been thinkin' that I could definitely work on working a little less."

"Okay, we could work on it," I replied, stepping out of my heels and into he shower shoes.

"Good."

I showered then began to get ready. Donald entered the room and closed the door behind him.

"Sorry for not knocking. I figured I'd send the message to your assistant that they can go home and tried reasoning with them, but they insisted that YOU tell them instead of me," he chuckled.

"Will do," I nodded at him. "You did well."

"With my choices?" He folded his arms across his chest.

"The outfit choices, yes. You didn't mention there were two choices."

"You like them BOTH?" He asked in a surprised tone.

"No, just this one. One looks like something YOUR grandmother would wear- where the heck did you find that? I know for sure that it isn't mine."

"My mother left it in my home and I thought it'd be hilarious. Your grandmother like for you to dress up like herself according to her word description," he chuckled. "I got it from MY home since I was already pretty close to this office."

"This one is fine though," I gestured to myself then continued finishing my hair. "This is something YOU'D love me in. Me too, but mostly you."

"You damn right. That shit is sexy. Your grandparents have to understand that what you do ain't got shit to do with them."

"Correction: Grandmother. My grandfather is okay with whatever. He could care less about what I'm wearing," I replied.

"Shit, same difference. I like them though."

"I can tell," I chuckled.

"They seem cool as fuck."

"Donald, my grandparents are fine people, but my GRANDMOTHER has another side. However, her bad side isn't nearly as bad as my mother, Yasir, etc."

"Yasir IS the bad side. There's no such thing as GOOD when it comes to that nigga," he shook his head. "That is his entire personality."

"Okay, then," I said with my head jerking back, then began to pack up everything else. "Um, you're definitely going to get me in trouble with this outfit."

"Damn, you in trouble with me already," he pushed his hands into his pockets. "It doesn't make sense." His eyes trailed down my face and body, then back up to my face.

"I'm ALWAYS in trouble with you or whatever you'd like to call it," I rolled my eyes with a small chuckle.

"On a scale from one to ten, how true it that?" He cocked his head to the right side with his chin pointed at me.

My eyes widened at his question, "TEN."

"All you have to do is take the one off and you'll be spot on," he lied to himself and me. "I'm the one who's usually in trouble."

"You want to talk about last night with your lying behind?" I asked him.

"ACTUALLY, let's talk about it," he spoke as I walked past him. "Well wait until we get to the car because..."

"Got it," I clicked my tongue and he pushed the door open.

"Although you work your employees to death, but you clean up after yourself, so I'm sure the janitors, at least, like yo ass. You better than me," he exhaled a laugh as I locked the door.

"I do it because we both know how I am. I hate dirt and dirty people who don't clean up after themselves. Their faces make me vomit."

"In that case, you should be hurled over. I'm a little messy when I'm in the studio because I be tryin' to get shit done and over with," he shrugged grabbing the "hoe bag" from my hands.

"You don't ever do that crap at home or my house, so I'm good. BUT that is foul. Do better, love," I pressed the button with a napkin.

"Hey, that's why I'm paying them, right?" I gave him a look as I spoke. "You have a point, but still... Imagine you in their shoes."

"I like to keep busy, so ehh," he shrugged.

I shook my head at him, then the elevator opened and we both walked inside. "Ridiculous."

"I mean..."

"Have some compassion."

"I do," he nodded. "It doesn't happen all the time, but often enough to notice it."

"Okay."

We went upstairs so I could tell Jensen that he could leave. There are plenty of security cameras around here, but I always like for men to be the ones to stay at night because THIS is Atlanta. Freaknik made me even more aware of the troubles women can go through. So many women were assaulted going to the store, work, etc, and had nothing to do with the Freaknik celebration. That's when I hired more security.

"Alright, I just wanted to be sure," Jensen chuckled.

"No, I understand," I nodded. "You may go home Mr. Ackles."

Jensen began to pack his things, then put his coat on. "Thank you."

"See? Didn't I tell you that already?" Donald asked him and I elbowed him. "What?"

We all made our way to the elevator and there was complete silence from us all as we went down.

Jensen cleared his throat, "so ummm... How's the weather?"

"Cold," Donald replied.

"Really? Because it was hot when I arrived," Jensen replied.

"Oh, okay." Donald nodded. "Well, you don't have to speak out of awkwardness. I'm cool with silence, man."

"Oh," Jensen mouthed.

I stifled my laughter at the awkwardness, but it was only Jensen who felt awkward in silence. My lips poked to the side when Jensen looked at me. Donald laughed outwardly.

"You good, man," Donald waved his hand at him. "Are you not comfortable?"

"I'm- I guess I'm fine," Jensen shrugged a shoulder.

Donald nodded in response, looking away from him and at me. We exited the elevator and made our way under the blanket of stars that are shining outside.

"Time moves forward very soon and it's dark as fuck right now," Donald replied.

"Yeah, I know. Have a nice day!" I waved at Jensen.

"You too!" Jensen waved back at me before getting into his car.

"Damn, being social is not that niggas strong point," Donald shook his head.

"Mine either," I said making a point.

"Yeah, but we BOTH know that shit though," he opened my door. "Hand me your keys though because Apollo will be takin' it back to my crib which is where we'll be going afterwards."

Handing it to him, I saw Apollo show up behind him. Donald handed him my keys, then opened the back door.

"Don't jack my truck up," I spoke loud enough for Apollo to hear me.

Apollo looked at me, making a driving gesture then a loud crashing sound with his mouth. "I never had a license!" He laughed, rubbing off towards my car.

Donald chuckled, "this isn't his first time. Although, he has NEVER had a license."

My mouth dropped, "w-"

"We're kidding. Relax!" He rubbed my upper arms. "Even if he hasn't, this isn't his first time taking your car home."

"Right," I nodded. He placed a bouquet of flowers o my lap and a kiss on my cheek. "Thank you."

"Mhm," he closed the door and jogged over to the other side, getting into the car. "So, about last night..."

"About last night..." I smiled at him, waiting for him to continue speaking.

"I've learned so much about you and still am learning. I noticed that on our first date," he strapped himself in. "We never got to the, "tell me about yourself," part because we already figured we knew so much already. Clearly, we don't," he stuck the key into the ignition and turned it, starting the car.

"Okay, so tell me about yourself..." I trailed off.

He smiled at me, "you know more about me than me of you, but okay," he loudly inhaled then exhaled. "My name is Donald Earle DeGrate Junior. I was born in West Virginia. Spent a lot of time in West Virginia and was mostly raised in North Carolina. My parents were also born and raised in the south. My pops is a reverend, so my brothers and I were church boys. I have three brothers in the order of Derek, Dalvin, and Djustin. There's a D in front of the J. The youngest one has a dumb ass spelling of his name because my parents couldn't come up with anything else, so we always call him, DJ. I'm the eldest out of the four siblings. Childhood was a bit difficult and I've been working since I was a kid."

He looked turned his head, looking out of the back window, then pulled off. "I was a church boy. I thought I had a child for a while, even helped raise him for a while, until he started growing into his features and I realized. As you know, it's confirmed that he isn't mine. I learned sign language and can play MOST instruments with ease. I'm a song writer, producer, and am the 1/4 member of Jodeci. I'm a recovering alcoholic and drug addict. I'll be four years clean in October."

"Congratulations."

"Thank you. I may seem like a people's person, but I honestly can't stand these mothafuckas. I like the idea of travelling, but I hate planes. Some may call me cocky, but I just have high self-esteem. People tend to like me for my features, but mostly my eyes and height. They also like my status, being that I'm well-known and everything. I'm engaged to my best friend, Tia. I like sex, but I'm celibate at the moment- well kind of. I like eating your pussy. The end." I raised an eyebrow at him once he finished due to his last statement. "What?" He asked me.

I finally combusted into a fit of laughter. "The way you just slid that in there like that!"

"Listen, everything I said is true," he smiled. "What's the problem?"

"I already said my peace," I zipped my lips.

"Tell me about yourself," he licked his lips.

"You know, you never told me your age?" I smirked.

"I'm twenty-nine years old, but I'll be thirty in September. September 29. Now you go."

"My name is Tia Nakia Andrews. I was born-" I sighed. "You know all of that."

"You can skip that. I don't mean start from Adam and Eve. Although it's what I did."

"My childhood and adolescent years were also difficult. My father was and still is absent in my life. I have an older brother-"

"You could skip that part too," he nodded, then looked at me. "Sorry. Continue."

"I'm a film writer, producer, director, and I do a few other things. Um... Ughh," I put my hand on my forehead, with a sigh. "I hate this."

"Telling me about yourself?"

"Yes, I never liked when people asked me about me. It's- it's just weird to me. It either feels like I'm trying to garner sympathy with my son story or boast about my accomplishments. It's how my mind processes this. You know?"

He turned to me with a smile. "You know what?" He grabbed my hand, and planted a kiss on the back of it. "I'm okay with learning new things about you- as long as those things don't hurt US," he eyed me. "It makes it all the more interesting. After all, we WILL both continue learning each other throughout our relationship, marriage, and our children. New things will ALWAYS pop up, especially because we grow as the years pass. You know what I'm sayin'?"

"I do," I replied. "Thank you for not making me do that. I'm not so good at that, especially all at once."

"You've never done a job interview?" He asked me.

"No, I worked at a diner part-time before I went to New York, but I only spoke on my qualifications, not so much of me as an individual."

"No other dates have done this?" Donald raised his eyebrows.

"Yeah, but I never got too much into depth like you want. I would be the one mostly questioning them- questions that kept them speaking," I shrugged, sheepishly.

"I'm sorry to hear that," he laughed. "Damn!"

"What?" I turned to him. He shook his head at me, chuckling as his thumb bent even more against the steering wheel. "No really. What is it?"

"That seems self centered on their end. I feel bad," he laughed aloud. "No questions about YOU? You're practically a closed book too. Never to be opened. Damn near have to pry. Well, HAD to pry."

"I don't. At least they answered. Now if they were being truthful is up for questioning, but they replied. I speak to you, yes, but we both know that I'm not much of a speaker. Especially with others. It's not my strong point and I'm so awkward. Sometimes my lips are unable to speak the thoughts in my head, which is why I write so much."

"Indeed, I do," he nodded in agreement. "And I can definitely tell when you've grown tired and checked out of a conversation. I've stated this before, but that shit be funny as fuck."

"I know you do," I smiled, entangling our fingers. "You just make things a little less awkward and comfortable."

"Thanks. I feel even more special," he chuckled.

I don't have small hand like many women, but they're very small in comparison to Donald's hands. His make mine look small.

"What's on your mind?" He spoke, breaking the complete silence of the car.

"Your hands. Your large ones make my large ones, for a woman, look tiny."

"That's me with anybody. They're ridiculously large and can work up some magic in more ways than one. You know what I'm sayin'?"

"Mhm," I giggled. "I do."

Silence grew and I stared out of the window, still holding his hand. Donald let go of my hand and turned on some music. He kept skipping through the CD until he found the song he wanted to listen to, which happens to be Florence Nightingale's Right Back Where We Started From.

"You must have my CD?" I asked him noticing that when he shuffled through the songs, there were plenty of different artists in the same order as my CD. "I thought you were against burnt CD's?"

"I am against them because too many artists aren't getting paid their worth, so my duty is to support those artists, their families, or whomever is receiving their royalties; the record companies. Although supporting the record companies- SOME of them isn't what I intend on doin'. But I can't do one without the other," he huffed after his small ranting. "And yes, I do have your CD inside. So..?"

"It's fine. Just a simple question, love," I shrugged with a smile, then turned to look outside of the window.

We pulled up to the hotel and I unstrapped my seatbelt. Donald grabbed my hand. "No," he shook his head at me. "Security followed us and they're going inside. I don't want either of us to cause a stir or make them a target. Stay. They'll escort them out."

"Right," I strapped myself in again. "What makes you like them so much?"

"Well... They're relatable. My family are extremely religious and so are they. She, in some way, reminds me of my grandmother on my pops side of the family. She likes to lie too."

I sniggered at his statement. "Oh okay. I've NEVER hung out with them in THIS type of setting. I mean with us ALL dressed formally."

"Another blessing. It's beautiful that they're able to see you accomplish all that you have."

"Amen," I responded. "Where are we going?"

"It's something to do with what you told me last night..." He trailed off, waiting for me to take the hint.

"A strip club?!" I raised my eyebrows.

He kissed his teeth. "Now why would I go and bring some old folks bto a strip club? I don't even like that shit."

"That's true," I nodded in agreement. "Let's see... Last night..." I looked up at the ceiling of the car in deep thought.

"You're taking too long, but we're going to this Latin spot. There's dancing, BUT it's mainly a restaurant. It's really laid back and formal from what I hear and it's pretty far from your building," he shrugged. "but it's closer to my house though."

"Oh, okay. I just hope the food is good."

"Shit, I don't even know..." He scratched his scalp. "The service is nice though. That's for sure."

My head fell back against the backrest, "that's okay. Thank you for booking everything. That was so nice of you. Thank you."

"Since you kindly asked, I kindly did it, AND you said that already."

"Donald, never have I asked you to do something in a rude manner," I chuckled, twiddling with his ear as he rested his head against the headrest. "Of course I asked nicely."

He turned his head making me let go of his ear and turned my head, facing him. "You think they like me?"

"Who? My grandparents?"

"Who else?" Donald gave ma a chuckle.

"I think they haven't been around you enough to make that final decision. Why does it matter?" I batted my eyelashes at him.

"Regardless of your plans to cancel, I have a feeling that their judgment means so much more to you than anyone."

I scoffed, and then giggled. "No. Why? Because my grandmother is VERY judgemental. If a person doesn't meet HER morals, then that's how her decisions are made. You see how I'm dressed?" I gestured to myself.

"Ain't nothin' wrong with that. You look fine."

"WE know that, BUT my grandmother will FIND a problem with what I'm wearing. In her mind, I'm still showing too much skin, ESPECIALLY because we're getting married. When she notices my outfit, watch what she says," I told him. "You'll see."

He sniggered, "damn! What about your grandfather?"

"He's so sweet. Hearing him verbalize his likeness or lack thereof of someone is different. He barely speaks, so it is important," I held up my index finger, "BUT it won't break us. Unless..." I gave him a look.

He raised his eyebrows, "it WON'T break us."

"Okay. That's it. That's all," I cut my hands at him as his head fell against the headrest.

Donald's phone began to ring in the cupholder. It's his father calling. Donald looked down at his phone, then rested his head against the headrest, allowing it to ring.

"Aren't you going to answer that?" I raised my eyebrows at him.

"Nope," he popped the p in his answer.

The phone stopped ringing, then started up again. "Donald..." I trailed off. "You just gave me an entire lecture about family not being here forever, and now you're doing this? You're a hypocrite."

"I couldn't agree with you more," he chuckled. "This is different."

"No, it isn't. Babe, that's your father. He's trying-"

"Too late," he monotonously and uncaring spoke. "He could've been done that."

"Donald, YOUR father was one of the main ones advocating for you to get clean and sober, per Derek's explanation. YOUR father cares for you. He's- he's like you. How you WERE. Dalvin and Derek have expressed that it was always hard for you to verbalize your emotions and you possibly inherited that from your father," I replied to him.

"Tia, you THINKIN' that I have that problem is crazy to me. I tell you what's on my mind. That's a YOU problem. YOU," he pointed to me, "have a hard time expressing yourself. Not me," he scoffed.

I'll admit that, YES, I have a hard time expressing myself, so I'm not upset that he did say what he just said. I've always felt that I wasn't able to express myself around my family as a child and adult, but Donald grew up in similar conditions when it comes to expressions. He HAS a problem with that. He appears arrogant and sarcastic MOST time when it comes to his brothers and family in general.

"Donald," I sighed through my nose. "Donald?" I called out again.

He looked at me from the corner of his eyes. "Yes?" He answered in a sharp tone which made me deeply roll my eyes.

"Forgive him. Forgive your father."

"Where is this comin' from, babe? How did we get HERE? All I did was not answer his phone calls. Anything beyond that is past tense. I'm over it."

"Hey, I know you. Your father is- he's trying with you. Trying to make things right. Forgive him for what he did to you, your mother, and the entire DeGrate household. I was going to intervene during your rant the other day, but decided against it."

"Do you forgive your mom?" He asked me. "Daryl?"

"I do forgive my mother, but I'm still hurting. The pain in my heart is still here," I placed my hand on my chest. "Same with Yasir."

"What about Darryl?"

"I haven't- I haven't gotten there quite yet," I sighed. "I'm learning."

"Fuck him," he spoke, referring to Daryl.

I snickered, "Listen. Back to you and your father. He's ACTIVELY trying. It's not as recent as he has. He's been trying since you started rehab. He's been rooting for you since."

"He was rooting for me when I introduced you. Keep calling me a fucking addict of some sort. Through YOU were one too. Had me keeping dark ass secrets from my mother about the shit that I've witness while on the road with him. He didn't think about me then. He placed me in these hard situations, especting that shit to not turn into anger and lose respect for him?" He crossed his arms. "Still acts as if that shit hasn't happened. He's done it plenty of times, yet acts like he's living up to those words he's been preaching to the church members."

"De, he has apologized though, right?"

He turned to face me with his head cocked to the side. "That right there is the problem," he chuckled while wagging his index finger at me. "THAT'S the problem. He has NEVER apologized. He likes to move past shit like it hasn't happened. He still does this."

"Bring it up. Next time you speak or see him. Confront him and maybe- JUST MAYBE, he'll be more considerate," I rubbed his jaw.

"Babe, you think I didn't bring it up? Last time he was here, I did and everyone just blamed me for that shit. I agree that I shouldn't have mentioned it in public, but we were at your warehouse which is PRIVATE," he shook his head. "Other than us, there were two women present. Even when we were in France and I didn't bring you, he asked where you were AFTER talkin' to you and about you like he was crazy. One minute he's this way and the next, he's another. Sometimes I wonder if he has BPD or some shit because he's showin' more symptoms than you."

"Confront him in private then. If things escalate, walk away. Don't escalate it further because it may put an even larger wedge in your relationship," I replied.

"My pops and I have problems, yes, but that shit ain't nearly as bad as you and your folks. I still feel the need to speak and check up on him," he chuckled. "It's bad, but not bad enough. I'm more comfortable around him than years ago," he sighed. "Where are your grandparents?" He moved his head forward to look out of the passenger sides window.

I tilted my head at him. "Were you even listening to me?"

"What makes you think that I wasn't?"

"Your change of the subject is what gave me the impression."

"I'm always listening. Just because I don't acknowledge the topic doesn't mean I'm not," he looked away from me and to his watch. "I said my peace," he shrugged.

"Your parents may never accept me and that's okay with me. They seem like nice people that love their children and hope for the best. Better than my parents."

"No, they push my feelings aside JUST like your parents. You're okay with my parents not accepting you, but I'm not, ESPECIALLY because the reason is about me; their son. My mom is alright, but she secretly agrees with him like most times. And my pops? He needs to act like a fuckin' adult." He sat back in his seat. "Finally! They're coming." I turned my head to see them walking towards the car. "Tia?" He called out to me and I turned to face him, immediately being startled by how close he is to my face. "You give great advice, but sometimes just let me handle shit. A'ight?" He grabbed my chin.

"Okay," I slowly replied and he pulled me into a passionate kiss.

The door opened and my grandmother entered the car first, making us pull away from one another.

"You look beautiful," Donald whispered to me.

My grandfather entered the car before the door was closed.

"Well, hello," My grandmother was the first to speak.

"Hello," I spoke to the both of them.

"Hey," Donald replied, grabbing my hand that rested on the console.

"What happened?" I asked on account of how late they were. Here I am, the cat calling the kettle black because if it weren't for Donald, we'd be late, but on time for them on account of long it took them to get to the car.

"We're OLD with old people problems," my grandfather spoke, laughing afterward.

Donald gave a look as if to ask "why'd you ask them that?" I nodded at them in understanding.

"Y'all buckled in?" Donald asked, looking at them from his rearview.

"OH," my grandmother let out, grabbing her seatbelt and my grandfather helped her strap herself in, before he did the same for himself.

"Let's roll," Donald pulled off once they got situated. "We WERE going to have someone drive us all, but I'm sort of in a driving mood. I hope y'all don't mind a little old-school music?"

"Hey man, this is YOUR car. I don't mind a thing," my grandfather spoke with a shrug.

"As long as there's no cursin'," my grandmother replied to Donald.

"Oh, nah. I wouldn't do that. My grandparents are similar," Donald chuckled. "You look beautiful Mrs. Andrews and you look nice Mr. Andrews." Donald complimented, then chuckled. "It's weird how you married into the Andrews name, but Tia has the last name of a man she isn't related to and never met, her granny's husband."

"It is what it is, baby," my grandmother laughed.

"I concur," I chuckled as Ray, Goodman, and Brown played in the background.

"What will you do when you marry? Some people hyphenate their names and others rid of their maiden names," my grandmother asked meo

"My brand is my name. Although I don't go by my last name, I'm still called by it. It'll just be hyphenated," I answered her question.

In the past, I did feel like I should take the name of my husband completely, but that wouldn't be a great business move. Hyphenated seems more efficient. Donald grabbed my hand as he nodded his head to Special Lady by Ray, Goodman, & Brown. He planted a kiss on the back of my hand, then began stroking it with his thumb. We made it to the restaurant and were seated at a table in a nice area. After the food arrived, Donald broke the barrier.

"So please tell me more about this one here. How was she growing up and how do y'all think she's changed?" Donald spoke while looking straight ahead at them, as he held my hand on my lap and under the table.

"She's always been quiet and kept to herself. To me she seems to be the same way," my grandmother replied. "I don't know what to tell you."

"What do you think? How has she changed for as long as y'all know each other. Again, how long have y'all known each other?" My grandfather inquired.

"We met when I was nineteen," I answered then chuckled, thinking about the encounter.

"So a little over seven years. Tia literally fell into my arms," Donald glanced at me. "Then it happened some years later at another event."

"You know, I forgot about the second incident," I said then my jaw dropped. "That's crazy."

"What was your first impression of her and of him?" My grandfather asked another question.

"For one, I thought she was stunning and my mind and heart still think of her that way. Secondly, I would like to get to know her in some form. Lastly, she's clumsy and probably shouldn't have been wearing those heels," Donald licked his lips.

"I was embarrassed. Then the incident that occurred there had me thinking this man was complete drama," I told them. "And yes, I thought he was a nice-looking fellow, but the drama overshadowed that."

"Oh, wow," Donald cackled. "That was- that situation was crazy too."

"What situation?"

"It was just something stupid," I brushed it off because my grandmother is so judgemental.

Donald gave me a look, "what happened was this woman that I used to deal with found out where I was, somehow bypassed security with a child, then claimed I was the father of her child."

"Did you ever find out?" My grandfather questioned.

"It's false," Donald drank his water, then sat the glass down. "I knew it at that time, but I definitely know now because I took a DNA test. The child is as white as snow," he chuckled. "Named the child after me too. I'm a Junior, and his is too. Crazy lady. I think I attract women who have SOME amount of crazy in them. Some more than others," Donald glanced at me. I playfully rolled my eyes. "But I wasn't my best self either back then."

"At least you've grown," my grandmother nodded. "You said the child was white as snow? Was the woman also white?"

"Well... Yeah," Donald slowly nodded. "I thought that was implied. Yes, the woman is white."

"So you date interacially?" My grandfather questioned.

"I mean, yeah... We both h-" I elbowed him, stopping him from saying what he was about to say.

They're old-school black folks. They've been through some of the worst situations when it comes to racism, especially with them being from the south. While they have the ability to not treat all white people as if they're racists, they don't agree with dating outside of black people. The crazy thing is that they BOTH aren't even fully black; they're multiethnic.

"Yeah," Donald nodded. "I dated women of different races throughout my life. I grew up around different races and cultures and wasn't limited to exposure of different people. I toured with my father as a child with his church group. While I did experience some racism, even microaggressions during some relationships, I had to learn how to weed them out. Just like the bad people of any ethnic background," Donald explained himself.

"So remind me why you're with my granddaughter?" My grandfather spoke up. "What do you see in her that you didn't see in them?"

"Grandpa, I think-" I interjected.

"Let the young man speak for himself," my grandfather cut me off. I folded my lips, picked up my glass, then averted my eyes to Donald.

Donald sighed, "I'm sorry, but this is a new era. Everyone is dating everyone regardless of race, which seems to be irrelevant in our case because I'm committed to your granddaughter. Things from the past that doesn't affect the present shouldn't matter. I love Tia and only Tia in a romantic manner," he looked an my direction as I sort of hid behind my glass.

"Okay," my grandfather nodded. "That's true," he agreed. "If it doesn't affect the presence, then the past shouldn't matter. That's a great way of putting it and I apologize for putting you in that position. By that, I just mean that I know you probably felt that I was attacking you because those weren't my intentions and I apologize," my grandfather spoke to my fiancé.

"I understand. You were curious about your granddaughters new man," Donald nodded.

"How much after that did you all see one another?" My grandmother spoke up, getting back on topic.

"About a week after. By the way, we met at her first movie premiere, but second film," Donald replied. "We met again through a mutual friend. I don't know if you've heard of Tupac?" He asked my grandparents.

"I've definitely heard of him. He seems to be a troublemaker from what I saw in the news," my grandmother replied.

"Yeah, but in the early days of my careers, Tupac and I were as thick as thieves. So close that everyone thought he and I were together," I chuckled while shaking my head.

"I'm part of the group of people who thought they were together, which is another reason I watch her and the film," Donald laughed. "I wanted to be sure that she was single before I was to approach her. We all ended up hanging out some days after, playing games, chatting, joking, and eating pizza. Simple, yet well executed," Donald replied.

I turned to glance at Donald. "I don't know about well executed. You were a stuttering mess. I wondered how you were part an R&B group with a stutter like that," I joked.

"Listen, my nerves were bad. I was jittery," Donald replied. "The fellas took notice too."

"Because they couldn't help but to. It was extremely noticable," I told him and we shared a laugh. My grandparents joined in on our laughter.

"What took the two of you so long to be together?" My grandmother squinted. "You two met when Tia was nineteen."

"Trials and tribulations. We had our lives to deal with and like I said, we dated other people," Donald replied.

"It was me," I admitted. "I wasn't ready or interested in pursuing a romantic relationship. I needed to work on myself. I think it was a great idea because we both needed to grow individually in different areas," I explained.

"I get it," my grandfather nodded. "How long have you lived one another? Was it one sided?"

"I've ALWAYS loved Tia," Donald chuckled and I playfully rolled my eyes. "It's true though."

"Always?" I questioned.

"That's what I said, love," Donald chuckled. "It was love at first sight."

"Right," I nodded. "I've always loved him, but in different ways- a different way."

"What way is that?" My grandfather asked me.

"You're usually quiet, but today you have many questions," I raised my eyebrows.

"Listen, you don't have a father to sit and get to know this young gentleman-"

I cut my grandfather off, "but I did ha-"

"I'm not talking about Daryl. Besides, it seems that nobody is on good terms and that is why you haven't spoken to anyone. Isn't it?" Her grandfather lowered his voice as he leaned in.

"No, we aren't on any terms," I replied.

"I already figured. With your lack of words for everyone and the media which I don't believe most times, but this time was a little different. I knew," my grandfather smiled. "I don't know the full story and you don't have to tell me about it either. However, your grandmother and I will always be there for you and ALL of our grandchildren," he reassured me. "Besides, I'm sure y'all will reconcile. Whether it's later rather than sooner."

"I agree," Donald nodded. "I'm sure they'll reconcile, just as long as everyone is mature about the situation," he shrugged. He turned to me with a smile and his hand out, "would you like to dance?"

"Can you?" I joked, but took his hand nevertheless.

"Excuse us," Donald spoke as we took a stand. We made our way to the dancefloor. "I love them even more. My intuition was right. Like myself, they genuinely care about you," he smiled as we began to dance.

"Despite the long distance and barely speaking, they really do," I nodded. "Do you know where you took us?"

"This is a Latin spot."

"Yeah, it's Bolero. It's Latin, but their version of slow dancing," I replied.

"I mean, I see now. All these old ass people," he replied.

"Quit it. One day, you'll be one of these old people and younger people will say the same to you. I mean, you'll be thirty very soon, so some already think that way. Besides, they are killing their moves. Let's see what you got," I chuckled, positioning our hands, then took a step back.

"Okay. Let me show you what the fuck I can do, woman. Just be my teacher and please don't become impatient with me, Ms. Teacher," he chuckled.

"Pull me closer," I whispered. "Chest to chest," I told him and he followed as instructed. "Move back, your left leg first."

"I think I got it," he spoke, getting excited.

"So far so good," I cheesed.

I continued to instruct him. He did as told, but it still came out wrong, but that's okay. However, it's better than what I thought. His lefts and rights are opposite of mine, which was another thing that confused him. I'm not a great teacher because I'm a bit impatient and frustrated when someone doesn't understand my teachings, which is why I'm not a teacher, and which is also why he asked me to not turn that way. It's honestly one of my weaknesses. It was hard, but I remained calm.

"Alright, the song is over. We should go take a seat," I exhaled.

"No..." He exasperated. "Babe, I'm just getting into it," he responded.

"Mm, I think this is enough," I smiled, letting go of his hand. "I'm sorry."

He sighed as we began walking towards our table. "Where are your grandparents?" We took a seat.

"They're dancing," Jax replied from a nearby table.

We look over at the dancefloor, and indeed, they were dancing. It wasn't bolero, but it was regular slow dancing. They look so cute too.

"This'll be us at that age," Donald spoke up. "That is a promise."

I turned to him blushing, "you have a way with words."

"I've been told," he chuckled. "A great mouthpiece is what you say, which is my mouth in its entirety."

"You don't have to go into detail, Donald," I whispered, looking around with widened eyes.

"Nobody heard me, love." He held my hand, thumbing the back of it. "I love you."

"I love you," I replied. "You're going to get me emotional," I chuckled.

"Yeah, I can heard it in your voice. You're getting all choked up," he wrapped his arm around my upper back.

"You seem to be feeling a whole lot better than last night," I spoke, changing the topic.

"Everything isn't what it seems. I feel better, but terrible nevertheless," he chuckled.

"What's the problem today?" I questioned with a squint in my eyes.

"Same ol', same ol'. The difference is that it's not as mild."

"You saw a doctor today, how did it go? What'd they say?" I asked him yet another question.

"Nah, they just chopped it down to sleep deprivation and/or stress like you said, BUT they still ran some tests to be sure and I'll get the results soon," he shrugged. "I'm sure it's nothin', so don't worry," he waved the question off. "Let's enjoy this double date."

"That means that you shouldn't be here. Instead, you should be resting," I told him.

"I'll be fine, I promise. In fact, tomorrow, I'm staying home again to rest up. It'll be straight resting for me for the next two days. This event hasn't caused me any stress. I feel at ease," he kissed me on the lips. "Sometimes, you worry too much."

"I don't worry enough."

He kissed his teeth, "that's an entire lie. You overthink and worry so much about everything. Sometimes you just need to chill out. You know what I'm sayin'?" I silently stared at him. "Tia, don't look at me like that. What I said is true."

"The small glitter from my lips have transferred to yours," I chuckled, then began wiping it with a napkin.

He smiled, gazing at me, "I thanks, but I'm just going to keep kissing your beautiful ass all day. You'll be at it all damn day."

"Oh, my goodness," I shook my head. "What am I going to do with you, DeGrate?"

"Everything," he chuckled. "As long as I'm enjoying myself."

My grandparents took their seat in front of us, averting our attention away from one another.

"Who taught you how to dance?" My grandfather asked Donald.

"I'm self-taught," Donald proudly announced.

"Really, now?" My grandmother raised her eyebrows.

"Yup," Donald nodded.

"I should teach you a little something because you were a little crunchy out there in that dancefloor," my grandfather cracked at Donald.

"Crunchy?" Donald asked with surprise. "I've heard it all, but NEVER have I ever heard of my moves being crunchy."

"Today's the day," my grandfather replied.

"Luckily, your granddaughter seems to not get enough of telling me how much I can't dance," Donald chuckled. "The good thing is that I don't really need to know how to dance, since my career no longer involves dancing, just with the music aspects."

"Sure, you're right," my grandfather chuckled.

"You don't attend any events that includes dancing?" My grandmother asked Donald.

"Now, yes. When I hang around her type of business people, for sure. It doesn't mean that I actually get up to dance all the time either," Donald replied. "Y'all both from Indiana?"

"I'm Tennessee and my husband is Mississippi," my grandmother spoke up for the both of them.

"Oh, yeah. This was established yesterday. My apologies," Donald chuckled. "I guess this is why Tia is drawn to Southern men, a.k.a me," he raised his eyebrows.

"Don't flatter yourself, DeGrate. I've dated people from different countries," I laughed.

"But who'd you end up with? I'll wait," he side-eyed me with a goofy smirk. "Exactly."

I let out a chuckle. "Right."

"My family arrived when I was teenager. I had to go to a school that was on its first ever year of integration. It had been segregated for a while. We actually left the south due to racism, just to face it when I arrived in Indiana. Going to that school was terrible. Although, back home it was a little better because I only attended segregated schools. I lived in a house where my family shared a phone line with a racist white family," my grandmother explained.

"Wait, I'm not understanding. Did you all live with a white family?" Donald questioned, with a confused squint.

"No, we lived in separate houses, but shared a phone line. They would call and call us all type of racial slurs and threatened us. It was the kids of the family that were our age and older. We left just before dust. Do you know when we made it here and contacted our family that decided to stay in the city said our windows and doors were boarded shut and set in fire?" My grandmother asked us.

I nodded because I remember this story. "God, that's horrible," Donald shook his head.

"Ain't it?" My grandmother chuckled. "If we hadn't left, my parents and their five children would have all been dead. It happened overnight."

"Did they get caught?" Donald leaned in.

"We know who did it, but we're a black family. The law consisted of 100% of racist white folk, so no," my grandmother replied.

"I moved to Indiana as an adult for the steel mills," my grandfather spoke up. "Right after I came back from the military. Couldn't find a job back home, and heard about Indiana and their steel mills and how promising the jobs were. Finding a job, yet alone a great one was hard to come by," he told us. "When the white flight took place in Gary, so many people were being laid off and had to find other means to live. I'm glad that I got to retire working for the steel mills. And that's despite me being on drugs."

"Thank God," my grandmother agreed with her husband. "We worked hard and we own everything we have."

"Amen," I spoke up. "Despite the trials and tribulations, you prospered. You own your cars, and large home. It's a big house."

"Listen, our house isn't as big as yours. What made you get such a large home?" My grandfather questioned me.

"I love to be home. Initially, I was planning on settling down here, but I don't think this is the right place. I need a new environment to start over. We need a new environment. However, because I had the house built, I would just LOVE to move it to our new city, but it's impossible," I explained.

"Yeah, it's a nice house for sure," Donald agreed. "But the land for our new home is crazy. We own so many acres in a VERY rural area and the next neighbor is MILES away from our home. It's like Utah. We have our own street and everything," Donald spoke getting excited.

"Where exactly will you two be located?" My grandmother asked us.

"California. We are just having some work done and everything should be done by the time we get back from our honeymoon," Donald proudly answered. "We're excited for that."

"How do you know everything is currently being taken care of on the property?" My grandfather asked with confusion.

"We have people for that, but in the meantime, we're both working as hard as we can before we wed, so I'm our pockets and bank accounts could remain how they've been," Donald answered for us again.

"And you're planning to settle down there?" My grandfather raised his brows.

"Definitely, but I want to leave the States completely upon retirement age. Somewhere in Europe," I replied.

"How many kids?"

"I want about five- six kids TOPS, but Tia's the one who has to actually carry our children, so it probably won't be as many... I want a daughter first though. My side of the family has too many males. We need a girl. Our first child will FOR SURE be a girl though. Mark my words," Donald chuckled. "We agreed to be a family of three for a while before adding new additions."

"Yeah, I only want a portion of kids that Donald wants. Pregnancy takes a huge toll on the body and mind and I'm not as strong as people think," I chuckled. "That amount of kids is scary."

"So you must like kids?" My grandfather asked Donald.

"For sure. I've been told that I'm great with kids. Hopefully that remains when we have our own," Donald told him. "How many do you have, sir?"

"I only have four and my wife has two. I have three girls and a boy. My wife has a boy and a girl. We don't have any together though. Mhm, yup," he slowly nodded.

"Wow, do you know that I never knew how many kids you had? I just assumed that you had two girls and that was it," I spoke with my hand on my chest.

"Really? I didn't know that," my grandfather chuckled. "But yeah, I do."

"How?" Donald turned to me.

"I just never asked many questions. My grandfather and I don't speak much, it's usually brief and it's more because of my social awkwardness," I chuckled, then shrugged my shoulders.

"Now that you say it, you are what you just said you are. I thought it was just you being shy, but it's more to it," my grandmother.

"Oh, you have no idea," I have Donald a look because if nobody else knows, Donald definitely knows.

"Don't I," Donald mumbled, practically reading my mind.

"You seem to know my granddaughter more than we do," my grandfather chuckled.

"I'd like to think so, yes," Donald nodded. "We're around one another every single day and... No disrespect, but she wasn't around your side for the family much growing up or many people while growing up. When she was, she was pretty silent to my knowledge," Donald replied, going into depth.

"That's very true," my grandfather agreed.

We conversed over dessert before heading out and dropping my grandparents off at their hotel. Afterwards, we headed to Donald's home, and cleaned ourselves before settling in.

Donald plopped down on the bed with a loud sigh. "Well, I really enjoyed myself tonight. Just cool conversations through and through. Nobody gaslit anyone. Conversed like full grown adults," he laid back.

"I know, I love them," I smiled. "I'm glad that I did get to spend time with them too. You were sure of it too. It's been a while. They for sure like you, Donald."

"Glad to hear that because the feeling is mutual."

"You handled yourself pretty darn well if I'd say so myself," I added.

"I'm DeVanté, baby. All things are possible," he gave me a look with a chuckle.

I waved him off. "Man, your name is DONALD," I playfully rolled my eyes at him.

"Don't hate me 'cause you ain't me."

"Boy, bye..." I cackled.

"Nah, but let me get back serious. I really would love to hang with them again. Maybe another setting."

"Hopefully," I shrugged a shoulder.

"You know, you act like your grandpa?" He asked me. "It's crazy because y'all ain't even related. I see some facial resemblance as well, which is weird. His nose for instance. It's tiny like yours."

"I don't think so, but I guess... You see what you see."

"Tia, you are beautiful as hell," he held my face in his large hand.

"I'm aware of my beauty. Thanks for the compliment," I blushed.

"You're welcome," he dropped his hand.

"Do you want a massage, Donald, before bed? A little rub down to make you feel better." I asked him.

"Mhm, give it to me," he replied, patting his lower belly, and moving his body so he'd lay flatter. "Climb me."

"Nuh-uh, lay on your stomach," I instructed him. "That doesn't even sound right."

"What? Why can't you just do what you did last night?" He looked me up and down with confusion across his face and in his tone. "That for sure made me feel better, just like it would right now."

"Turn over," I repeated.

Sighing aloud, Donald began to speak again. "How about YOU lay back and I give your body a rub down? Before you say something, I feel fine. I've been out all damn night and some for the day. I haven't given you a massage in a while now. I just know your back hurts. Don't it?"

"You are, in fact, correct," I nodded.

"Turn over on your stomach for me," he told me. "First, take your shirt off, so your shirt won't be scrunched up at the top. I want you to be relaxed." I stared at him and he sighed. "Come on. Really!?" His pitch raised an octave and I nodded. Sighing, while shaking his head, he turned his head. "Ain't this is some bullshit. This is ridiculous."

I pulled the large T-shirt over my head and laid down on my stomach. "I'm undressed. Well, halfway."

He turned to me, "this shit 'bout done pissed me off." Slow music began to play, then I watched him place the remote on his nightstand.

My eyes instinctively rolled at him. "Your idea. You want to keep things slow. We're only slowing down to kind of reserve ourselves. There's entirely too much sexual tension and we always tend to give in. Donald, you said it yourself."

"I know what I said," he straddled me, "but this shit feels like a complete stop, not slowing down."

"It's only been a few days, love," I replied.

He began caressing my back with his fingertips, making me arch my back. "Yeah, and I still feel the same way."

"What are you doing?" I questioned.

"A massage which is what we initially agreed on. I'm just STARTING of very gently, then I'll ease my way in," he spoke, still doing what he's doing.

"Please stop," I spoke up. "It feels great, but it seems like you're trying to take me to another state of mind."

"Damn, I can't do shit," Donald laughed. "Alright. I add pressure and you tell me where to keep it. Okay?"

"Mm," I closed my eyes. He slowly began to apply more pressure and my body jerked once he applied the right amount of pressure. "Ooooh, right there."

"Don't fuck my head up with those noises, T. C'mon don't do this to me," he semi-wined.

"Fine. It's your world, squirrel, I'm just trying to get a-" I paused, opening my eyes to see him staring in my eyes With a risen eyebrow.

"Nut?"

"Massage," I replied, then laughed. "Your mind is gutteral."

"My mind? That's how the saying goes. It was YOU, who at this very moment, decided to change up the words," he chuckled. "Stop playin' with my mind."

"I'm not playing with your mind, but you're playing with my body," I told him because he began to caress me again.

"Don't I fuckin' wish," he began massaging again.

"I can tell," I reached behind myself placing my hand on him, pushing him backs by his groin.

"Tia..."

"Donald, you have your crotch TIGHTLY pressed up against my booty. In fact, you penis is halfway sitting between my booty cheeks."

"Tia," he chuckled. "I literally HAVE to sit in this position to get you right," he replied.

"ALL of your limbs are long, you could literally reach over my head from my knees," I spoke, pushing him back even more.

"Yeah, ALL five of them, so no matter how much you push me back, you still gon' feel him. Just relax while I work my magic," he told me as his thumbs began massaging my back dimples.

"I CAN'T relax like this," I held my breasts, slightly turning over. "Not like this. You have my mind traveling to other places."

He smirked at me, his fingertips ever so slightly went up the sides of my body, sending chills throughout my body. He slowly began leaning down in my ear with his body pressing into mine again. "Aren't we just SLOWING down?" He asked, rhetorically. "How 'bout you SLOWLY turn over and I SLOWLY go down? And I PROMISE to take my time. Shit, it all can even be in slow motion."

My eyes widened for a second, before returning to it's regular size. "DeVanté."

He chuckled at my moaning tone. "Listen, I can only control my pace, not your reaction. That's probably the ONLY thing that won't be slow," he spoke again, smirking. "C'mon, let me sit that pussy on my taste buds."

I swear an involuntary moan left my mouth as my body began to heat up further and my breath got shaky. "DeVanté."

"Mhm, that's my name," he gave a throaty chuckle. "But I don't know why you're moaning it now when I haven't even done shit. Please? Tia, I'm hungry for you. Your body is tensing up, I feel your ass squeezing up against me." With his fingertips still caressing my sides, he pecked my shoulder blade. "Shit, we held back yesterday and did a damn good job."

Reaching down, instead of pushing his groin away, my hand rubbed his hardening crotch. A low and sexy growl escaped from his throat. My head tilted the opposite way of his as his tongue kissing began to trail down my neck and spine. My hand dropped from my breasts as my eyes instinctively rolled into my head. The small whimpers that left my mouth, gave him ammo. He turned my head a little to kiss my lips. A hand slid up the portion of my stomach that exposed from the slight turning of my body.

His hand made it to my breast, playing with it as we engrossed in a hot and nasty kiss. Donald broke our kiss and attached his mouth to my titty, trailing wet kisses in the direction of my nipple. Once his mouth was attached, then enclosed around my nipple, his tongue began to roll, he looked me in my eyes to watch my reaction. My eyebrows remained furrowed in pleasure with my lips slightly patted as my whimpers and moans filled the air. My thighs clenched around one of Donald's leg that is still placed between mine.

The wet kisses began to trail away from my breast, up my arm, up then down my neck, and down my spine. In the midst of that, I laid on completely on my stomach while his fingertips teasingly caressed up and down my sides. Donald's fingers wrapped around the band of my panties, pulling at them. I lifted myself up by the waist, arching my back. He slowly pulled my panties down, while planting kisses on my cheeks and then my thighs. My moaning turned into a gasp once I felt his breath fan my pussy.

He deeply inhaled. "Oh, my God," he whispered in a moan.

He lifted my knees to slide my panties completely off my body, tossing them. Once he did, I turned my body. One leg laid straight remaining between the both of his and the other pointed at the ceiling. Donald immediately looked up at me and shook his head no. One of my

"Mm-mm," he released his bottom lip from his mouth, "lay on your stomach," he responded, "I don't think I ever ate it from the back before."

My heart skipped a beat at his words, then my eyes slowly trailed down his face, chest, abdomen. They then stopped this hardened print that is currently sitting against his right leg, fighting to escape the clothed material covering it. Feeling my eyes on him, he let out a throaty chuckle. His hand pulled his boxer briefs down, freeing his phallus as it stood at attention.

"This what you want, right?" Donald spoke while making it bob up and down. He knows exactly what I want and is just teasing me. "Hm?"

"You know what I want," I spoke.

"Yeah," he grabbed my leg that laid between his, slightly bending it, then lifted it to his mouth. "But I want to hear you say that shit." He turned his head, planting small kisses at the arch of my foot.

"What I want, won't be received," I told him.

A smize appeared as he eyes stared wooden into mine. He walked closer to me on his knees, bending my knees even more in the process. When he finally made it to me, his hands slid to the bend of my knees, pushing both of my legs back. He grabbed the base of his dick, slid it down my clit and placed it at my entrance, adding pressure.

"Oouuu," I moaned as my body shook.

He chuckled through his nose. "Are you sure about that?" He asked me.

"DeVanté."

"Fuck, baby. I love that pussy so much," he spoke while rubbing my coochie with his tip. Continuously sliding it up and down, from my clit to my entrance. "That's my name baby," he replied.

I felt his tip leave my entrance and slide up to my clit, before he slapped it against my stomach, pulling my body down and closer to his. My juices that collected at his tip made the sound of this dick slap louder as it made my belly glisten. We're so close that there was no space left between my thigh and his.

"I know what I want," he spoke again.

My hand slid down my body, reaching the tip of his dick. My thumb rubbed the hole, before circling out around his entire tip. I slid my hand down further, feeling the veins in it as it throbbed against me. Wrapping my hand around it, I began to stroke it. Donald placed my feet onto his shoulders. Due to our height difference, that move lifted my waist. His body hovered over mine, and his lips pulled mine into a sensual kiss.

My hands found the back of his head, rubbing and massaging his scalp with the tips of my fingers. The kisses moved further down and to my breasts, sucking, licking, and kissing them while fondling them. After a while, he decided to move further down and between my thighs. He looked up at me like a lion scoping out a gazelle. Once again, he lifted my waist.

"Now... Before I joined you I'm up there, I told you to stay on your stomach," he flipped me over on my belly. My hips were lifted, my thighs were spread, as he placed me kneeling on my knees.

I giggled, "I don't always listen." I put a deep arch in my back.

I felt the bed quickly shift, then Donald against my backside. His hand gripped the side of my neck, making me stand on my knees against his front. I felt his dick beneath me, tapping my coochie. He's not doing it with his hands because-

"You see, that's your fuckin' problem," he whispered in an assertive tone, making it known that he standing on that shit. "Now look down," he spoke into the other side of my neck. He loosened his grip on the side of my neck.

I swallowed the lump in my throat, "why?" I challenged him with a smirk on my face, while staring straight ahead.

The hand he had on my belly came in contact with my left booty cheek. I gasped with a small chuckle. Nevertheless, my eyes averted between my legs to see his dick standing prod and strong. I knew it was there and he knew that I knew. The fact of the matter is that this man knows how much more I get turned on at the sight of it standing tall.

That caramel stick is one of the sexiest things I've ever seen, other than the man it belongs to, and of course myself. Not only that, but the mess that we created that leaked into his creation. My pussy throbbed harder against it and my hips instinctively grinded against it. My moaning increased in volume. His breath fanned my neck as he silently but sharply inhaled then exhaled. He began kissing and sucking my neck again, marking his territory.

"You see that shit?" He asked me. "Look at what WE did," he spoke with emphasis. I felt his arm wrap around my waist, stopping all of my movement. "I give you an inch and you always take a damn mile."

"The problem is that I didn't even get an inch," I replied, placing my hand on top of his that on my stomach. "I would have to beg for the mile if I were given an inch."

I felt his smirk into my neck. "Girl please. You wouldn't be able to handle the miles or the inches."

My mouth dropped at his words as he removed his hand from underneath mine. His hand traveled up my back, pushing me into the doggystyle position. I looked back at him, before turning my head straight to the headboard. My arms stretched out, straight ahead of me on the bed in a yoga position. The arch in my back went deep. I worked my hips, making my arch deeper than ever.

"God damn," he whispered.

Yeah, stop playing with me, DeGrate. The feeling of his member sliding back against my belly and my pussy, allowed me to know that he drew his midsection back. The back of his dick slapped the top of my booty, making a splatter sound. I threw my head back, looking up at him. I shook my booty again. His low bedroom orbes that stared back into mine, made my pussy throb harder and it showed in my face. Donald began walking backwards on his knees. He readjusted my legs, so they weren't so far apart. His breath fanned my pussy before his tongue went down my folds, starting below my entrance.

•••

"That was two days in total that we didn't do anything sexual. Tonight was a good restart," he chuckled as we lay in bed all cleaned up.

My leg is thrown over his stomach as he's laying on his back.

"Yeah, but you're the one who suggested it. I just put those words we spoke at our paid session into action. Are you able to follow suit in reality? Last night you were a on one too," I told him as he caressed my thigh with his fingertips.

"Shit... I don't even know my damn self. If I stop, you're just gonna be playing with yourself all the damn time. My taste buds want what they want. However, I know that I can control my other urges. That's where you fall at. You wanna more than my tongue in you," he responded, making her throb again and me close my eyes. "Your freaky ass is getting horny at the thought. Don't get me hard again."

"Donald," I wined at him as she throbbed again at his words. "Stop doing that. Don't do that, you know I'm struggling."

"Don't say my name like that. And you see that I be struggling too, right?" He eyed me. "I got your ass right here beside me. How could I not? I'm just in more control of myself than you. That shit is mind boggling to me. Your ass is freaky ass hell. All that sexual tension been pent up and it's showing it's ass now," he chuckled.

"Listen, I'm not freaky. I'm just a regular woman," I replied.

"So you ain't just do what you do to me?" He raised a brow. "Your back wasn't just arched? Your mouth wasn't just around my-"

"Hushhh," I hushed him, placing my index finger over his mouth. He kissed my fingertip.

"A'ight then. Don't be saying shit that doesn't make any damn sense," he chuckled.

"In my mind-"

"Yeah, that's right. In your mind." He eyed me, "in your mind, you're just a lady," he rolled his eyes with a smirk. He kissed my knuckles.

"Donald, you've said that I'm your peace... Well, what happens when that's no longer?" I asked him. "My emotions are heightened more than the typical person. I've got problems."

"That question is straight out of the blue," he chuckled. "I'm not always you're peace and vice versa. But for the most part, you are my piece. There will be times where you aren't and that's fine. Just as long as we are committed and love one another, we're fine," he explained. "Babe, I know what I signed up for. I'm not naive to any possible future problems. For better or for worse. Now we haven't said the words yet, but I still feel that way, but it takes two."

I smiled with a nod as he kissed my knuckles. "Right."

"This feels like a fairytale," he turned his entire body towards me. I placed my thigh over his side as he stared into my eyes. "Don't worry about nothing, love. My love for you will never leave. Even when your physical appearance dissipates, I'll still love you. All of you. I will love both sagging titties, jaws, loose skin, your little ass tantrums when you call yourself being upset, all of your weird ass ways- YOU- all that shit. All of YOU," he told me. "I ain't the type of nigga to say what a person wants to hear, so I hope that you know I mean that shit. I know that you often need reassurance and I'll be glad to give it to you. I ain't gon' get tired of telling you and anyone else how much I love you."

I smiled with watery eyes. Opening them again, I peck his lips. "Yeah. I can tell that you do. Thank you."

We laid under the covers in that same position, eventually falling into a deep slumber.

Author's Note: How'd you like Anthony's first point of view? Do you like him? Does he remind you of someone? 👀

Word Count: 15,230

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