Charisma wasn’t tall or short. She was of average height and stood around five-foot-six. She had been wearing her hair in locs since forever. They had grown so long that they now hung down her back. Mesha considered herself enlightened, but Charisma was the earthy one out of the group. She was the girlfriend that saged the house of negative energy, sent affirmations, was a vegan, chanted, and meditated her way to self-fulfillment. Harlem wondered if that’s why her brown skin was always so radiant. She also was what some folks called thick. Charisma more than embraced it. She was one of the most confident women Harlem had ever met. Her friend certainly lived up to her name. Charisma had it in spades.
“Second, I am flexible.” Harlem pursed her lips and sat back in her seat with her arms folded as if she’d put a period at the end of this conversation.
Mesha and Charisma exchanged mischievous glances but remained silent as they held back their laughter.
It was clear they disagreed. “I am,” Harlem said more forcefully.
“You remember Rob Donnelly?” Mesha asked.
Harlem nodded. “Of course, I remember him. He was class president of our freshman and sophomore years of high school.”
“He had a huge crush on you.”
Harlem waved them off. “No, he didn’t. He was just super nice.”
“Oh, my god! Yes, he did.” Charisma still couldn’t believe Harlem was clueless. “Everyone knew it except you. It didn’t even enter your brain.”
“That’s because it’s not true.”
Slowly, Mesha shook her head in disagreement. “That’s where you’re wrong. Robbie asked me to hook you up with him.”
“He did not.” Harlem didn’t believe it. “Did he?”
“He did,” Mesha confirmed. I didn’t try to make a love connection because you, under no circumstances, would have dated that boy.”
“Probably not, but it wouldn’t have been because he was white.”
“Harlem!”
Mesha and Charisma said in unison.
“You were adamant about dating within your race.” Mesha reminded her.
Harlem continued to push back. “I don’t recall that.”
“You don’t remember telling us that you wanted your very own Morris Chestnut or Blair Underwood. The mere thought of entertaining anyone not a shade above Michael Jordan wasn’t even a remote possibility.”
“We ain’t mad at ya. It’s your preference. You’ve found your perfect guy in Damian. He checked all the boxes on your list. We admire your dogged determination and perseverance.” Charisma said.
“Wait,” Mesha reminded them. “The wedding board. That’s what started this entire conversation. You planned your entire wedding at thirteen. When do you think that might happen? You and Damian celebrate five years as a couple next week, right? I want our kids to grow up together.”
Harlem shrugged nonchalantly when she was anything but. “We’re in no rush.” Marriage was important to her, but Damian detested the entire idea. They were coming to a crossroads in their relationship because of it. He was ready to start a family, and Harlem couldn’t imagine having children outside the confines of marriage. More importantly, Harlem couldn’t understand why she didn’t feel as connected to him as she thought she would. Harlem loved Damian. She just wasn’t sure if she was in love with him. “This weekend isn’t about me. It’s about you and us enjoying our last bit of your singledom before becoming Mrs. Jackson Lewis. As a matter of fact, let’s toast to that!”
The three of them raised their half-empty glasses in a heartfelt congratulatory toast.
Chapter 12
“It’s my anniversary. Made for you and me.” The deep dulcet tones of Damian Fox singing Tone Toni Tony’s hit song-filled Harlem’s office suite. “Seriously, how long do I have to stand here before you realize it?”
She glanced up from her desk to find all six-feet-two-inches of sexy goodness leaned up against the frame of the door. Damian looked as if he were posing for a magazine. Mr. GQ’s legs were crossed at the ankles while holding a massive bouquet of red long-stemmed roses.
Shit! Harlem shot up out of her chair. “Have you been standing there long?”
“About five minutes.” He shook his head. I guess I don’t have to worry about Mesha putting crazy ideas about weddings and marriage in your head. You can’t even seem to remember our anniversary.”
“I remembered. I just got . . . caught up with work.”
“I smell good, my fade is tight, and I’m looking like a million bucks for my girl, and you didn’t even notice.” Damian didn’t lack in the confidence department. He didn’t need to. The man was the trifecta–self-assured, wealthy, and fine. As a matter of fact, his smile was so dangerous, it was rumored to have made a few women sell their souls to the devil.
Still, Harlem had been so engrossed in her work that she didn’t even know he was in the room. Harlem had completely forgotten about their dinner plans. Damian wasn’t lying about looking good. He was wearing a new custom chocolate-colored Armani suit. One that matched his beautiful dark brown skin.
Shit. Shit! “I’m sorry!” Harlem said as she sat back down. “Just give me a few minutes to answer this e-mail and approve a couple of requisitions.”
“Disappointed, Damian walked into her office and closed the door behind him. “I made the reservations for seven this evening thinking that would be late enough.”
She mumbled. “I just lost track of time.” Her fingers suddenly started flying across her keyboard.
Damian took a seat
