Page 32 of Certified To Handle You 2

I went in the bathroom and brushed my teeth while I watched myself in the mirror.

The dream kept replayin’ in my head, especially the look on Couture’s face when he played the voicemail. I knew he wasn’t violent, but guilt had turned him into somebody else in my sleep ‘cause deep down, a bitch was scared of what would happen if the truth came out.

Maybe he wouldn’t put his hands on me, but the hurt would be real, and I knew that.

Once we was both dressed, Couture zipped the luggage and rolled both suitcases toward the door. I grabbed my purse and checked the room one last time before followin’ behind him.

We had already returned the rental, so our Uber was supposed to pick us up in front of the hotel.

Couture handled the bags without askin’ me to carry nothin’, and when we got outside, he set them beside him before pullin’ his phone out to check how far the driver was.

I stood next to him, and he reached for my hand on some natural shit. His fingers locked with mine, and he brought my hand up to his mouth before pressin’ a kiss across my knuckles.

When his phone buzzed, he checked the driver’s location, then slid it back into his pocket.

“They four minutes away,” he told me. “You hungry?”

“Yeah. I could eat a lil’ somethin’,” I said, givin’ him a half smile.

“I got you, baby. We’ll grab somethin’ before we get on the plane.”

“You got everything?” He then asked, glancin’ toward my purse.

I looked around the room before noddin’. “I think I do.”

“Just make sure, baby. I’d rather you check now than realize you left somethin’ once we get to the airport.”

I opened my purse and made sure my wallet, charger, AirPods, and ID was inside. Couture waited without rushin’ me, then nodded once I zipped it back up.

“You good now?”

“Yeah, I got everything.”

He squeezed my hand and looked toward the street as another car pulled up, but it wasn’t ours.

Standin’ beside him made me feel the difference between what I had with him and what I had with Renza.

Couture gave me room to breathe, and I ain’t have to guess what mood he was in or what he might do if somebody looked at me too long. He could be possessive in his own way, but he ain’t make me feel trapped. He made me feel chosen without makin’ everybody around us feel threatened.

Renza made me feel wanted in a way that burned through every bit of common sense I had, but Couture made me feel like I could build a real life without constantly waitin’ for somethin’ to go wrong.

That was what I needed to remember when we got back home.

I couldn’t keep lettin’ one touch, one look, or one moment with Renza tear apart everything I was tryna build with Couture. Whatever pull Renza had on me was real, but so was the nigga standin’ beside me holdin’ my hand while he planned breakfast and made sure I had everything I needed.

When our Uber finally pulled up, Couture stepped forward and checked the tag before openin’ the trunk. He loaded both suitcases, then came around and opened the back door for me.

I climbed inside, and he slid in beside me after tellin’ the driver which terminal we needed. As soon as the car pulled away, Couture reached for my hand again and rested our joined hands on his thigh.

I looked out the window while Trill-Land passed by, and I told myself that once we touched down back home, I was done playin’ both sides.

I needed to buckle down and really give Couture what he had been givin’ me from the beginnin’. That meant no secret calls, no meetin’ up with Renza, and no lettin’ that nigga pull me into another situation just ‘cause he knew exactly what to say and how to touch me.

I looked down at our hands and rubbed my thumb across Couture’s skin. He glanced at me, then leaned over and kissed the side of my lips.

“You sure you good?” he asked again.

“I’m straight,” I told him, restin’ my head against his shoulder. “I’m just tired and ready to get home.”