Another message came through. This time from Savannah in a separate thread.
Bestie
Ignore Aaliyah, I’m sure she’s just backed up because her man isn’t fucking her right.
I snickered at her text.
Bestie
Seriously though, you’re not dead, are you?
A stifled laugh threatened to escape my mouth. As I responded to let her know I was alive, the driver side door opened and Yosiah climbed in the car.
“Here.” He placed a brown bag on my lap just as I locked my phone. My face scrunched.
“You got me something?”
Digging into the bag, my brows shot up seeing a jar of pickles. And not just any pickles, but the spicy ones I liked to eat.
“I haven’t been able to find these anywhere! How did you know I liked them?”
Yosiah threw the car in drive and pulled out of the parking spot.
“How can I forget? Do you not remember when we first moved in with each other after our wedding, the fit you threw when there were no pickles in the house?”
Heat rushed to my cheeks.
“Blame that on mother nature and PMSing. I can’t help it, they’re my comfort food.”
“Yeah, well I’d never seen someone cry and throw a tantrum over some damn pickles. From that day forward I made sure to keep the house stocked with them. I noticed you usually ate those ones, but hadn’t had them lately. So when I saw them, I grabbed a jar. Call it a truce and hopefully it’ll make you feel better.”
The heat from my cheeks soon transitioned to my chest, blooming like a wildfire. My heart stumbled and my stomach filled with butterflies.
“You don’t have to pity me,” I mumbled, opening the jar and pulling out a pickle spear. My eyes stayed locked on my lap. The last thing I wanted was to feel like a charity case or something.
“Idopity you.” My cheeks puffed out. “But contrary to what you might think, I don’t take pleasure in women crying or being upset. What you said about being a burden and me hating you…”
“Can we just not talk about it?” I rushed out, then took a bite of the pickle.
“I don’t hate you.” Slowly, I shifted my attention to him. He gripped the steering wheel tightly with his eyes locked on the road. “I also don’t think you’re a bad person, your personality just is off putting.”
The hand not holding the pickles clenched and my eyes went back to my lap. “Neither of my parents care about me. Can you blame me?”
Despair shot through me.
“I knew your parents were pieces of shit from the moment I met them. It might be a hard pill to swallow, but you’re better off without them.”
I knew Yosiah’s words were true. Since meeting with my dad I’d played over my upbringing. I was mainly raised by nannies. My parents never bothered to be involved with anything I had going on. They never asked about school or what was going on in my life. All they did was foot the bill for my life and stay out of it. I didn’t even remember them ever telling me theyloved me. Realizing that hurt more than I cared to admit.
“It’s their loss though, right?” I tried to perk up. “Anyone who doesn’t see how fabulous I am is missing out!” I finished the pickle and went to get another.
Yosiah didn’t respond, but out of the corner of my eye I could swear I saw a small smirk form on his face.
Out of the five years we’d been together, this might be the first time me and Yosiah sat down and had a real conversation. It made me wish we’d done this more often in the past. I didn’t know if this meant our relationship was growing or if he was letting his pity for me lead the way.
CHAPTER 12
Yosiah