Recently someone questioned my integrity. Someone close to me. I know this person is disturbed, that there is literally something wrong with them mentally, but it pissed me off like you would not believe.
I try my best to live my life honestly. Not in a hurtful way, one without tact or diplomacy, but in a way that lets me be comfortable. I know that no one could ever say with a shred of honesty, she lied. Or, she behaved this way — ew. No. But it happened, and it reaffirmed my desire to live life on my own terms, outside the bullshit mentally disturbed people who refuse to get help bring to your door and unpack thinking that you’re obligated to pick up their shit and bring it inside.
In this week’s blog, which picks up where last week’s left off, our hero and heroine have a very serious conversation about what their married life together could look like. It’s truth-telling at its finest, and it’s something I insist on in my fiction — as I do in real life.
I know my books are not real, but for me the best romantic fiction is brutally honest. It’s what makes it better than real life, you know? That a man and a woman could look into each other’s eyes over a bowl of ramen and confess it all… only in the pages of a good book, right? Anyway, let me know what you think!
You know who the picture is, or you should. My baby… I’m obsessed…
When she woke her mouth was dry, and she sat up and looked around. Tan’s bedroom was large and spare like the rest of the house, but lived in. He’d brought in a rack for the outfits she’d put together, and they hung neatly, waiting to be worn.
There were stacks of books lining the walls, perhaps waiting for a bookshelf, and she was surprised to see that one of his nightstands held a framed picture of her. She was laughing, her head thrown back, glasses on top of her head. Her red lipstick was prominent, and she wore one of her signature pencil skirts and a button-down shirt.
Well, how about that, she thought, charmed. “I must get a picture of him.”
She turned and smiled. He stood holding a tray, wearing loose track pants and no shirt. His hair was slightly tousled, and his lips still bore the stamp of prolonged contact with hers. He looked beautiful.
“Don’t move!” she ordered. She snatched up her purse and used her phone to snap a few quick pics.
He just shook his head. “Are you hungry? My mother dropped off some food this morning. My grandmother made kimchi. This has been patiently aged to perfection I’m told.”
“Yum.” She picked up a cream, silk robe lying on the foot of the bed and slipped it on, surprised to see that it fit. She looked at him questioningly.
“I bought that for you.”
“You thought of everything.”
“Not quite. But I’ll get there. Get back in bed, darling. I’m sure you’re thirsty. I bet you haven’t eaten much today either,” he scolded.
“How’d you know?” Sinna laughed. “Between Lani’s calorie counting, the drinking and the constant business, I haven’t even thought about food.”
He stirred ramen and blew on it before holding noodles to her lips. “Ahh,” he urged.
Sinna obediently sucked up the noodles and then opened to accept the bite of kimchi to accompany them.
“I know this is salty so late at night. But you never seem to show bloating, and no one’s taking my picture tomorrow, so,” he shrugged and held out the next bite.
Sinna opened again and chewed happily. “Eat,” she ordered, when he would have prepared another bite for her.
He grinned at her. “Thank you, darling.”
She ran her fingers through his hair while he chewed, and his big eyes got slantier than usual as he enjoyed her touch.
“Open,” he held out more ramen.
She shook her head.
“One more bite.”
She gave him a look, but she opened, chewing thoughtfully as she looked him over. “For your next hair color change let’s go darker. Dark chocolate brown, or maybe an edgy midnight with a cobalt blue rinse. Whaddya think?”
“Whatever you like, darling. I trust you.”
She nodded, satisfied. “It’ll play up that pale skin, and make your hazel eyes sparkle. Your lips will look fuller too, pinker. That heffa Min Ki will probably have something to say. I’m sicka her ass,” she confided, picking up a piece of kimchi with her fingers. “Did I tell you one of my people is coming from Chicago to do hair?”
“Yup. I’m setting a trap,” she confided. “The faster that bitch falls in it the better.”
Tan laughed softly. “Well, it will serve her right. She’s always been a handful. Drink this, darling.”
Sinna rolled her eyes when he insisted on holding the glass to her lips, then squinched up her face. “Lemon water?”
“Excellent for cleansing the system after drinking.”
She laughed softly. “Aren’t you full service.”
“You’re taking excellent care of me.”
“Of course! You’re my baby.”
“I’m not a young woman, Tan.”
He laughed. “Are you old, then?”
“No! But I’m not as young as I likely should be to have children.”