by kj lewis
“I trust you,” I say, a little bruised by his analogy of me but not at all surprised that he really does see me. “I’m not sure how I feel about you thinking I’m not someone who trusts.”
“I didn’t say you weren’t someone who trusts. I’m saying your experiences have ingrained in you that giving up control is a bad thing. Understandably, you attach fiercely to wanting control. We’ll work through it. It has been a lifetime in the making; it’s not going to change in a month.”
“Graham, already I’ve given more of myself to you than I have anyone. I trust you with my heart. My whole heart. Something I’ve never done before.”
“And it’s a gift I treasure and will always protect. Just like I will always protect you.”
We lay in silence, each thinking how much we’ve learned about each other. Graham is right, I know he is. Reasonably, when I take a step back, I can see it. I’m too close to it most days.
“Tell me what you’re thinking.”
“I’m wondering how I can expect you to make me feel secure when I’m not sure what it would take to feel that.”
“You don’t need to know.” He sits us up, making sure he has my full attention.
“Emelia, I know. I know what it will take to make you feel secure. I know what you need. I know you. A month, a year, or ten years isn’t going to change that. I’ve known since the first day I met you. It’s why I held your hand on the plane. I knew you needed it, and I won’t abuse that knowledge. I will always make sure you are secure. That’s why I am in control. It doesn’t matter if you know. I do.” He’s resolute and so sure of himself that I can’t help but think he really does know.
Waking alone, I climb out of bed, hitting the shades that let the sunlight into our bedroom. It’s nine in the morning and, for the first time in days, I feel rested. I find Graham in the shower and watch, transfixed, as his hands run over his body rinsing soap off.
“Don’t take another step,” he says when I open the shower door. “If you come in here, I will fuck you, with no regard to your ‘save sex for the honeymoon’ quest. Enter at your own risk.”
“Have you no self-control, Mr. Taylor?”
“Sweetheart, I haven’t had self-control with you since you called me ‘sir’ on the plane. I could have pounded nails, you made my dick so hard.”
“It’s not exactly soft right now. I can help you with that you know.” I pull his t-shirt over my head.
“Emelia, you’ve been warned. The decision is yours.” I give my best pouty face, as he laughs and exits the shower. “I love you, baby.” He drips on me leaning in for a kiss.
After I rinse off, we fall into our normal routine of getting ready together.
“What is it about men being called ‘sir’?” I ask.
“What do you mean?” He comes around the corner pulling on a t-shirt.
“It’s common place in the south to say ‘sir’ and ‘ma’am.’ When I call men ‘sir’ here, their eyes always seem to flutter.”
“Whose eyes have you been fluttering?” he asks.
“No one’s. But I noticed Mark’s twitched yesterday when I said it.” I continue to braid my hair. When I look back in the mirror, Graham is standing right behind me.
“Who’s Mark?”
“Mark Johnson.” I crinkle my brow and turn to face him. “I had a meeting with him yesterday.”
“I don’t like the way he watched you in the pitch meeting. And I wasn’t aware you were on a first name basis.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I tell him. “I forgot to tell you last night, he’s asked me to work for him.”
“I’m sorry?”
“He offered me a job.” I move to put lotion on my hands before putting my engagement ring back on.
“I’m sure he did. And what job was he wanting your services for?” His tone pulls my eyes up to his in the mirror. The look on his face tells me everything.
“Fuck you, Graham.” I head to the closet only to be cut off by him.
“Language, Emelia. I’m not saying that about you. I’m saying it about him.”
“What you’re saying is the only reason he would want me on his team is because of sex. That’s what you’re saying. And it’s offensive.”
“I don’t know a business man who wouldn’t want to hire you. You have a keen mind for business. What I’m saying is I don’t trust his motives.”
“We need to get going. I’m going to be pushing it to get things done as it is.”
“We’re not done with this conversation.”
“As far as I’m concerned we are. We can talk about it more when we have time and when you can talk rationally.” I roll my suitcase to the hall. Smith takes it from me.
“I can carry my own suitcase,” I snap at him.
“Ma’am,” he says while picking up my bag and walking off.
“Did that make your eyes flutter?” Graham says sarcastically behind me.
“You’re twelve, right? Ass,” I say under my breath as I walk towards the elevator. Smith makes a move to step off. “Oh, no you don’t.” I pull him back into the elevator. “You’re not leaving me with him.” I motion my head to Graham.
I know Smith is not pleased that I have placed him in the middle. I punch the code for the portico once Graham steps on. He starts before the doors even close.
“Emelia, I want to talk about this now.”
“You can talk all you want, Graham. I’m putting in my earbuds and sleeping for the next three hours.”
“We’re not driving,” he says as I step off.
“How are we getting there?”
“We’re flying.” He opens my door for me. Myles is already behind the wheel.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“It wouldn’t have changed the outcome. There is nothing you can do to change it, so why have you worry about it.” He takes my hand in his. My frustration takes a backseat to my fear.
“Graham, I can’t get on a little plane. There’s no way I can do that.”
“They can accommodate jets. We won’t be on a small plane.” He kisses the back of my hand and the four of us ride in silence to the airport.
We drive onto the tarmac and park next to a plane with G650 printed on the tail. Myles takes care of our luggage. Smith is flying with us and Teague is already there. We greet Jim as we enter the plane. I turn the corner to find everyone is already waiting for us.
“I didn’t realize y’all were flying with us?”
“We all had business in the city yesterday, so we weren’t able to leave until today,” Adam says. Jackson and Patrick are already seated next to Jules and Adam. Harry is working on his laptop. I make my way around to everyone, my excitement over our weekend finally beginning to build.
Graham directs me to two open seats as the stewardess prepares us for departure. “The dwarfs couldn’t leave until the end of their shift this afternoon, so I have a helicopter bringing them down. Reggie will be flying with them. Becca should have landed an hour ago. Eloise and mom are already there working on arrangements.”
“We’re up, baby,” Graham whispers in my ear once we have left the ground, so I lighten my grip on him.
“Harry, what is your read on Mark Johnson?” Graham asks.
I roll my eyes. “Don’t answer that question.”
“Why not? You respect Harry and his opinion. Why not listen to it?”
“When I’m ready for his opinion, I’ll ask for it. Stop trying to rain on my parade. Just let me enjoy it.”
“What’s going on?” Harry asks.
“Mark Johnson offered Emelia a position.”
“I bet he did,” Adam says, exchanging a look with Graham.
“That’s exciting,” Jules exclaims.
“Mark Johnson approached you about a job?” Jackson leans forward, a little vein popping out on his neck.
“Calm the vein, Jax. You knew Emme wouldn’t be with you forever,” Patrick says.
“He could have had the decency to
give me the heads up. Thank you for letting me know by the way.”
“Don’t take it personally. I just found out myself,” Graham says.
“You know what? Y’all want to do this now. Let’s do this now. Mark Johnson is making a run for Mayor. He asked me to be his senior advisor. Have the opportunity to grow programs and facilitate change in areas that need it. I would be his employee, not the city’s. The position starts at 500k, with bonus options. I haven’t thought about it yet seeing as how I have a little thing going on this weekend.”
“I would vote for Mark Johnson,” Jules interjects.
“Actually, Jules, I would too. Doesn’t mean he gets my wife.” Graham says.
“That’s it. You’ve had the last word. No more discussion,” I tell him.
His eyes narrow and I see his thumb skim the tips of his fingers. Graham leans in to me so only I can hear him. “You haven’t begun to hear the last word.”
“Are we taking Emme out for her last night as a single woman?” Lucy asks, taking a bite of her burger.
“No,” Adam and Graham say together.
“Why not?” Jules asks.
Adam gives her a “don’t be stupid” look. “Do I really need to remind you what happened the last time you girls went out?”
“That was a fluke. We know how to party without getting arrested.”
“My vote is no. But she’s Graham’s wife. He gets the final vote.” Adam takes a swig of his beer.
The din of silverware dropping to the table fills the room. Ruth, Eloise, Jules, and I say in unison, “Who has the final vote?”
Adam gives his father a confused look of helplessness. Ben chuckles, “You’re on your own sons.” He toasts them with his beer.
“And she’s not his wife yet. Are you taking Graham out?” Becca says vexed.
“We’ll probably go out for a few drinks.” Adam doesn’t back down, still clueless.
“Where can we go that we can take Lucy?” Jules thinks aloud.
“You’re going to let them take Emme out?” Adam says to Graham unable to keep the surprise from his voice.
“Before you answer that, I would take a few things into consideration,” I assert.
“Really? And what should I be considering?” Graham challenges me.
“Did I say consider? Silly me. I meant there are a few things you should be aware of.” I narrow my eyes at him. “I’ll skip to the most important one: I don’t need your permission.”
“Yes you do,” Graham and Adam answer again in unison. Jules and I look to each other then to Ruth.
“Write your own pages, dears.” She mimics Ben and smiles as she toasts us with her wine.
“Emelia,” Graham threatens.
“Don’t poke the bear,” Matt says, not looking up from his plate.
Drew echoes with, “James is absolutely the most stubborn woman we’ve ever met. Telling her she needs permission is like holding dynamite in your hand and lighting the fuse. It will go off and when it does, it is not pretty.”
“You act like I have no self-control,” I say sharply.
“Why am I in trouble?” Drew asks placing his hand against his chest. “I’m on your side.”
“Enough. You can pretend all you want in front of your friends, but you’re not going out tonight,” Graham says, his voice low and harsh.
I lean toward Harry, smile, and in my sweetest southern voice say, “Dad, may I go out tonight?”
Something in his eyes change, and I realize it’s the first time I’ve called him Dad.
“Call me Dad again and you can have anything you want.” He winks at me.
Graham rolls his eyes.
“Emelia, sweetheart.” His “sweetheart” is condescending and anything but sweet. “Why don’t you tell everyone the vows you’ve chosen for our ceremony?” he says casually.
“Graham, sweetheart, I will. I have chosen traditional vows. The same ones my grandparents said to each other.”
“And what are they again?” Graham leans back and drapes his arm over the back of my chair while he takes a sip of his beer. He’s goading me and looking sexy as fuck doing it.
“Fine, husband-to-be. Yes, I have chosen to have the word obey in my vows. Make me regret it today, and I won’t be saying it tomorrow.” I raise an eyebrow at him.
“Let me get this straight,” Drew says. “You”—he points his fork at me—“are allowing the word obey in your wedding vows. Emme James. By your own choice.”
“My grandmother said the word obey, and she was the strongest woman I know. She took nothing from no one. She understood that you can’t both lead, otherwise you have two people each going their own way. Someone has to be the leader and the head of the household.”
“Bible-Belt gal, remember?” Matt reminds Drew.
“My upbringing did play a part in my decision. I’m not ashamed to say it. What I think is important to remember is the trust I have in Graham by adding that to my vows. Obey isn’t about him saying I can and can’t do something. For me it symbolizes that I will trust Graham to always care for me and make decisions with me and not for me. I’m marrying my best friend. Why wouldn’t I? If Jules or Jackson told me to do something, I wouldn’t think twice about trusting them. How much more should I trust my husband? The person I’m giving the rest of my life to?”
“To women who know what they want, aren’t afraid to say it, and don’t take no for an answer.” Ben raises his beer in the air for a toast.
“Here, here,” everyone toasts.
“Don’t be too late getting in tonight,” Graham says, yielding before kissing my cheek.
“Oh, I’m not going out tonight. I never wanted to.” I take a big bite of my burger, and the room breaks out into laughter.
“There really is something wrong with you.” He smirks and wipes the ketchup off the corner of my mouth.
“We told you, don’t poke the bear.” Matt and Drew are laughing the hardest.
After dinner, Jules helps me wash the dishes and we chat about the pending nuptials. “I need you to do one last fitting,” Jules says as I hand her the pan I just washed.
“Really? I thought it looked perfect yesterday.”
“Just want to make sure.” She stops mid-drying and looks at me. “We’re going to be sisters.”
“We already are.” I kiss her before turning to the group in the kitchen.
“What time is the rehearsal?” I ask.
“Six o’clock,” Ruth replies. “It’s dark at seven now so we’ll need to be organized and ready. Dinner to follow.”
“Need me to do anything?”
“Just enjoy your afternoon,” Eloise answers.
“Perfect. That gives me four hours. Jules and Becca are with me. Lucy are you coming or do you have plans?”
“I’m in!” she says excitingly.
“Alright then. I have a list, so we better get going.” I kiss Graham goodbye and grab a set of keys.
“You’re taking Jules’ security. Make sure they’re with you. Understand?”
“Yes, sir,” I whisper in his ear which earns me a slap on my ass as I walk away.
“What’s on our to-do list?” Becca asks from the passenger seat.
“Wedding presents.”
“I thought you were the queen of gift buying. I’m not sure how we will be able to help.”
“These are things for Graham I didn’t have time to do before today.” I hit Henry’s number on my phone to set up a time to meet this evening. He’s acting as our wedding photographer. He could do it professionally but doesn’t want to lose the love for his hobby by making it his job.
“Where are we headed first?” Lucy says.
“I have a client that’s in town and he’s agreed to do me a favor.”
“What’s the favor?” Lucy again.
“He’s giving me a tattoo.” I look at her in the review mirror from behind my sunglasses.
“Cool! Can I get one?” She bounces hopefully in her seat.
“Maybe next time. After we talk to your parents.”
We pull into a small inland house. From the outside you would expect a preppy Volvo-driving family to live here. You wouldn’t know it’s the vacation home of one of the most esteemed tattoo artists in the city.
“James!” he greets me. His daughter runs onto the porch to see who is here.
“Brandon, thanks so much for doing this. When I called the shop yesterday, I was so disappointed you were out of town. Needless to say I was ecstatic when I found out you were here.”
After I make introductions, I hand him a piece of paper with the old typesetting lower case ‘g’ I found. “See what I mean? Simple and easy.”
“Shit, James. I can do that in my sleep. Sure you don’t want to get something elaborate? You’d rock a sleeve,” he teases.
“Just the ‘g’ please,” I chuckle.
“Alright. Come out back. I have everything already set up.” We walk to a back shed. Inside is a chair, a padded table, and tattoo equipment.
“Where do you want it?”
“On the front of my hip, where it would be hidden if I had a bikini on.”
“Ok. What color?”
“Midnight Blue.”
“Lie back.”
“Now, just to make sure, I can get this now and have all kinds of monkey sex this weekend without it being an issue, right?”
“Yes, James.” He shakes his head. “This is small enough it wouldn’t make a difference. Just take care of it like I tell you to and you’re good.”
Fifteen minutes later I’m ready to go.
“Thanks again.” I hug him.
“Congratulations!” he says.
We run the rest of the errands and make it back to the house in time for me to do my hair before Henry gets there.
“Henry’s downstairs,” Adam says, wandering into the bedroom. “What are you guys up to? Why does your hair look like you should be on the cover of Sports Illustrated?”
“I’m doing sexy pics for Graham tomorrow.” I grab a bag and head for the door.
“Need a guy’s opinion?”
“Oh, maybe we should ask Patrick?” Jules says, kissing the pout off of Adam’s lips.
