A Proposal?

Brina

Casey tries to act like he doesn’t like reality tv, but he be just as clued in as I am. Like right now, I’m going back and forth with my cousin about some nigga she’s seeing, and he’s next to me, one hand on our babies, one hand in his shorts, focused on a catty fight.

“These bitches lame, mama,” he rasps.

I grunt, halfway listening as I tap my thumbs away on my phone.

“I mean, it’s obvious they not fucking with Ronnie ‘cause she got the fattest ass. Bitches be jealous.”

“Uh huh.” I’ve learned if I halfway acknowledge what he’s saying, it lets me off the hook. Casey’s in his own world anyway, and I’m trying to convince my cousin that dating someone so soon after being released from jail isn’t a good idea.

Especially when your last relationship put you there.

My phone gets snatched from my hand, but before I can object I’m pulled down onto my back.

Casey’s intense gaze is leveled on me as he licks his lips. “Who you texting? You told them niggas you out the game?”

I roll my eyes. “Only nigga I’m worried about is my baby daddy.”

My handsome man grins, showing me those dimples I hope our babies have, before leaning down and kissing me. “Good fucking answer, B.”

I smile and lift up to kiss him again, but he moves away at the last second.

“Marry me.”

The whole world, my whole world stops. That couldn’t have been what he said, right?

“Huh?”

“I know you heard me girl I seen them q-tips in the trash. Yo ears should be clean.”

I move to sit up and he lets me, moving until we’re inches away from each other. 

“Casey, that can’t be your proposal.”

He furrows his brows. “Proposal is implying you got a choice. I was foreal just telling you what’s finna happen.”

What?!

I stumble out of that damn bed so fast and fold my arms over my chest. “Casey Amari Washington, you are not proposing to me like that! Where’s the theatrics?! I need my hair done. I need my nails done. I need a string quartet playing Good Thang and Pretty Willy himself singing live! I need a photographer to capture everything! You cannot ask me to marry you in our bed while you’re watching Side Pieces of Kenton!”

“Calm down—”

“Oh, and I know your ass did not just tell me to calm down!” I shriek.

Normally, Casey is good with romance. We’ve been on gondola rides. He took a cooking class with Nut and made me a fire rasta pasta with noodles made from scratch. And don’t get me started on his thug poems he be sending me throughout the day.

But this shit is unacceptable.

“Bae, we’re already doing everything ass backwards. I’m not saying yes to you in my pjs. You need to do it over.”

Casey chuckles before getting out of bed, too. He taps the screen on his phone before Good Thang begins playing over the wall speakers. After he throws his phone back on the bed, he swaggers over to me, collaring my throat with his big hand. So rough, yet always gentle with me, rubbing his thumb up and down the column of my throat. His other hand cradles my belly as he licks his lips.

“I refuse to spend another day without you having my last name, Sabrina. I know you have a plan for your dream wedding, and Ima even still propose to you when you least expect it even though yo hair and nails will be done. But tomorrow morning we going to the courthouse at nine a.m. sharp and I’m making you Sabrina Washington. Aight?”

Well when he puts it like that…

“Why so soon?” I breathe.

His eyes soften. “October 30, one month after my birthday, one month before yours. Ion know… figured it would be kinda lit.” He looks away when I beam at him.

See? My lil thug poet.

I wrap my arms around him and rest my cheek on his shoulder. “I love it. And we can have the ceremony on October 30 next year.”

He kisses the side of my head and rubs my back. “Sounds like a plan.”

“I love you, Casey.”

He squeezes me just a little. Sometimes I can’t believe we’re here. We still argue. We still get territorial about each other, and he’s hidden his sawed off shotgun from me. But every day we’re making it work. 

He starts singing the bridge of the song to me, and I bust out laughing at how horrible he sounds. But then I lean back, and the love shining in his eyes makes me tear up. 

Nowadays, all my tears are happy ones. He stops singing to kiss them away. “I love you too, B.”

He settles us back in bed, runs off his phone, and restarts the episode. I snuggle in close to my man, his hand resting back on my belly.

“Sheesh bae, you were right. Ronnie walking around with a wagon.”

“Told yo ass; these hoes really just jealous of her.”

He shakes his head like he’s truly disgusted, before pulling me in even closer.

I stare a hole into the side of his head. “Bae—“

“Nah. My favorite size is whatever size you at, whether you thicker than a snicker or not.”

I simper, making him smirk, before I focus back on the tv.

Good answer.