And no matter how much I push and shove at him, I can’t get him to budge. In fact, he eventually captures both of my wrists and pins them above my head with what appears to be minimal effort.
“Do not fight me, krasotka.” His words are angry behind his mask. “Not on this.”
“How do you expect me to respond to any of this?” I ask him, breathing hard behind my own mask. “The only way you could get me to agree to five days with you was with threats and gun violence. And now you’re expecting me to what? Just roll over and say, ‘Sure, I’ll marry you. Sign me up for a life of not being respected by the man I call husband?’”
He stares at me, his green eyes blazing.
Then without warning, he lets me go. He steps back and scrapes a hand over his shorn hair.
“You are right.”
I lower my arms, not sure if I heard him correctly. “I’m right? So does that mean you’re letting me go?”
“No, but…” He looks me straight in the eye to say, “You are right. This is no way to start marriage.”
Oh. Disappointment sinks my heart. So he’s not letting me go.
“Or any relationship to be clear.” I rub my wrists, feeling aggravated.
“Or any relationship,” he agrees, his voice somber.
There’s a moment of quiet between us.
Then he says, “I will tell you truth, krasotka. When you leave, it was not end for me. I tried to let you go. I tell myself, ‘Chess don’t be crazy. She is not for you. It was a fun few days, and it is over now.’ But I cannot stop thinking of you. And I keep on staring at check you sent me. Not because I want to put it in bank, but because it was written by you. So I mark that April 6th date on my calendar. And I find myself obsessed with knowing. So obsessed, I can’t wait for you to get around to telling me whether you are pregnant or not.”
He shakes his head with a sneer. “Like desperate man, I show up at your door. Because I want you. I want you that much.”
Now it’s my turn to shake my head. “But why? Why do you want me so much?”
“Believe me, I have asked myself this question many times. I like being bachelor. It never bothered me before. But then, I saw you. So beautiful. And suddenly, you are all I can think of. This obsession might have ended after those five days, if not for other parts of you. You are not just pretty girl. You are loyal and clever and easy for me to be with in same space—that is not so common, you know. Especially for me.”
I stand there mute, not knowing what to say. I don’t date athletes, and I certainly don’t want to marry one. But I have a weird urge to take out my phone and call Cynda for outside analysis. Like, “Is this the most romantic thing you ever heard, or am I just being crazy?”
In the end, I tell him the truth. “I’ve been struggling with some of the same feelings. You’re not just a pretty boy. You’re interesting and sexy and clever.”
I expect him to smile at my wordplay, but he grimaces like I hit him. “Then why did you leave early?”
I shake my head. “I didn’t…I didn’t like it when you called me weak. I pride myself on being a strong black woman, so when you said that, it made me feel like you had no respect for me at all.”
He shakes his head back at me. “What I said was not about respect, krasotka. It was about emotion. You are weaker than me, and that makes me want to protect you. Like your brother didn’t. That is all I meant. No insult. Just desire to be man who stands between you and anything that would hurt you. But other than that, I believe you are very strong. Strong of mind. Strong of spirit. This is what I like so much about you.”
Okay, no need to consult Cynda on that one. When he puts it like that, being called weak definitely feels romantic. But…
“I’m not sure a few days of great sex is enough to base a relationship on. In fact, that feels like a crazy thing to base a relationship on.”
He nods. “It is enough. I promise you this, krasotka.”
Krasotka…the way he’s talking to me, looking at me…I feel beautiful in a way I never have before, even after qualifying for the Queen America pageant.
But I’m an accountant. A strong black woman who’s worked hard to get to where I am. And my brother’s life is no longer at stake. I can’t just give in to this crazy idea. Can I?