by Vera Roberts
It didn’t matter now. I needed to get focused and ready for my sister’s big day and somehow push Ian out of my mind.
Michelle was right, after all. Ian totally put his business before me. It was too good to be true.
Ten
It really fucking sucks dumping your boyfriend on the day of a wedding. I’m just so glad it’s not the day of our wedding.
Here I was at my sister’s wedding, seeing everyone dance and congratulate my sister and her wife…erm, her husband, and I’m polishing off my second glass of champagne. I plastered a fake smile and danced with quite a few men, who humored me with the dirty dancing because they were gay, and had to politely decline a few lesbians’ offers to take me home.
I tried not to think about Ian but it was damn near impossible. Everywhere I turned, I saw him. He was sitting at the table. He was at the bar. He was chatting up with some drag queens. Hmm…so maybe Ian wouldn’t do that, but I don’t know…he knew Blake was transgendered and didn’t care.
I need to train my brain to hate him.
As I got up to wish my sister a toast, I thought about the notes I’d jotted down. I decided to hell with the notes. The best words came from the heart.
“The Bible teaches us that love is patient and love is kind. It doesn’t teach us to tolerate. It doesn’t teach us to hate. Instead, it teaches us kindness. It teaches us respect. It teaches us to turn the other cheek.
“I’m not going to stand up here and lie to you all – I didn’t accept my sister for who she was at first. I thought it was a phase. I thought he was having a crisis because our mother was really sick and he was acting out. I missed my brother. I missed seeing him in suits. I missed him bringing home his girlfriends. I missed the undeniable swag he had.
“But I also love my sister. I love how she can beat my face better than any YouTube beauty guru. I love how she can take me shopping and makes sure I only buy clothing that makes me look good and not a hot-ass mess.” The audience chuckled. “Furthermore, I love my sister who taught me that true love is what lies beneath. And sometimes the person who you think won’t fight for you, won’t declare their love…” I paused as I spotted Ian at the back of the reception hall. My Prince Charming came after all. “…that person will surprise you in many ways.”
“To Blake and Adrienne,” I held up my glass and everyone followed suit, including Ian. “…I hope you two have a wonderful and long-lasting life together. Forever!”
“Forever!” Everyone cheered and clapped.
I rushed over to Ian and awkwardly stood in front of him. He wore a dark suit with a crisp, white shirt underneath. He smelled like heaven and sex. “I didn’t think you were going to come. I thought you weren’t going to be here.”
“I said I might not be able to make the wedding. I didn’t say I wasn’t going to be here at all.” He replied. He wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me close to him. “It’s your sister’s wedding and I know how close you two are.”
“Yeah, but it’s not the typical all-American or all-British affair,” I noted as I wrapped my arms around his neck, “I wasn’t sure if Ian Ferguson does transgendered weddings.”
“Ian Ferguson does whatever makes his woman happy,” he replied, staring deep into my eyes and sending shivers to my core, “I don’t understand transgenderism and maybe it’s not for me to understand. But if they’re happy, I’m happy.” He looked around. “Are you still needed?”
“No,” I shook my head. Hell, I probably was. I didn’t care. My sister was married and my man was here with me. All was right with the world.
“Let’s get out of here,” he mentioned.
“Where are we going?”
He rushed me out of the hotel. “I want to show you something.”
~~~~~
We drove back to L.A. and made a pit stop at the Ferguson Gallery. It was closed for the night and security casually walked the grounds. They greeted Ian and I and let us inside where Ian walked us upstairs to the second floor. “Close your eyes,” he instructed.
“Oh?” I closed my eyes and he led me outside. The October air was still quite warm and I didn’t feel the need for a jacket. But I still wondered what was going on.
“Now open them.” He spoke.
I opened my eyes and looked around me. I stood in a garden filled with numerous roses with different colors. Purples, reds, oranges, yellows, and even a few blues filled the garden. Several small benches along with a gazebo completed the look. It was stunning.
“What is all of this?” I asked.
“You’re standing in the Regina Kimbrough Garden,” he spoke, “this is why I wasn’t able to make your sister’s wedding. It was supposed to be completed this morning but there were a few hangups and I rather not get into what happened. I know you wanted a room for your mother but we all wanted to do something bigger. It was actually Gerald’s idea for the garden.”
Gerald, huh? I think I’m more shocked by that admission than anything else right now. We started off as enemies only for him to go completely out of his way to do something for me.
“I called a friend’s family in New York; they run a floral shop called Madre’s and they did the design. With our input.” He hastily added. “I wanted to make sure this was perfect before you saw it.”
“Madre’s?” My face lit up thinking about it. They were the world-famous floral chain with highly-rated reality show to match that I watch faithfully every Sunday. “Eli D’Amato did this?”
“Of course he did,” Ian gesticulated. “I’m not this talented.”
We walked towards the gazebo and I just stared at it in complete awe. It was surprisingly large with numerous benches inside it. On the side of the gazebo was a small plaque of my mother’s picture, along with her birth and death years. “Regina Kimbrough was an avid art collector and lover of humanity, wonderful mother to her daughters, Genesis and Adrienne, and best friend to all. This garden is in honor of her beautiful spirit.” I read as I blinked back tears. So much emotion was trying to force itself out and I had to contain it.
My father reduced my mother to a storage unit; Ian and his family acknowledged her presence forever.
“It’s okay to cry, Domi.” He encouraged and turned to him. I buried my face into his suit and poured out all of my emotion. The last two years of my life were a complete whirlwind. Now I can’t remember my life before Ian.
I finally pulled away and the Bobbi Brown makeup job is smeared down my cheeks. My nose is full of snot and I’m sure I look like a hot-ass mess. “I look awful right now.”
“No. You look beautiful as ever.” Ian thumbed away my tear-stained cheeks. “Do you like it?”
“I love it!” I beamed. “I can’t thank you enough!”
“Well, there is one thing,” he slowly pulled out a medium-sized box and opened it. It wasn’t a ring.
It was a house key.
“I’m tired of going over to your place and going back to my place. I want our place.” He stated. “I want you to move in.”
“When?” I smiled.
“Starting tonight,” he held me close. “We’ve waited two years and I think that was more than enough practice.”
“I would love to,” I replied to my now-boyfriend, “I know I’m not the best girlfriend and sometimes my words get all jumbled when I try to make sense, but Ian, I do love you. I’ve always have. I always will.”
“I love you, Domi.” He swept his lips over mine and we kissed in my mother’s garden, under the October moonlit sky. He pulled away and just stared into my eyes. “So what now?”
“Some food?” I interlocked fingers with him and we began walking back to the Bentley.
“Sounds good. Where do you want to eat?”
“Roscoe’s!” I replied. “I’m dying for some chicken and waffles.”
“Chicken and waffles?” He asked. “People eat that together?”
We stopped walking and I turned to him. How in the blue hell has he lived in L.A. all this time a
nd never had Roscoe’s? You know what? Never mind. “You have a lot to learn about how the other half lives.”
“Good,” he patted my ass, “I’m ready for the ride.”
