Page 67 of Platinum Pressure

“I do. I trust your word and your actions. I know you would never cheat on me or break my heart. Our love is too strong for the temptation the Devil will try to throw at us.”

“You’re right, fa shit sho, bae. We are eating in bed or in the living room?”

“I’m sleepy, so we can eat in bed. I’ll pick a movie.”

“Great. I’m pulling in now. I love you.”

“I love you.”

We hung up, and I relaxed.

I reopened the group chat and sent one message:

All is good. Essie Pooh, please don’t get on the internet clapping back at trolls and people who can’t put together coherent sentences. They aren’t worth your time and energy. The best course of action is to let them talk amongst themselves until they’re bored and move on. No response is the best response, and if they don’t move on—then and ONLY then will my baby sister swoop in with her legal expertise and sue the drawls of them hos! I love y’all dearly!

I tossed my phone onto the bed and stood up to finish my bedtime routine that was so rudely interrupted before. The roller coaster of emotions had my nerves bad, but I was glad I didn’t have to stress for long. Porter was always there to regulate me.

A few days later

“Baby, do you know how dangerous it is to surprise a pregnant woman? What if I pee on myself? You gon’ have me pissy in the middle of the room with a million people in it and make me the laughingstock of the century?”

“Dow, do you have to pee?”

“Well, no . . . but⁠—”

“Then hush. We’re almost there.”

“Where are we?” I whined.

He smacked my butt and led me a few steps further. He opened a door and carefully led me into a room. Although the blindfold restricted my sense of sight, my other senses worked overtime to figure out where I was.

Smell.

The room smelled of red wine, scented candles, and what I thought was cheese. My guess was that we were at an Italian restaurant. Porter’s cologne was the strongest scent in the room, though. His warm, woodsy aroma kept me grounded so my nerves wouldn’t get the best of me.

Hear.

I could hear a live band playing softly in the distance. There were drums, a bass guitar, a piano, and an electric guitar. It sounded like a soundcheck, but I couldn’t quite make out the melody.

Touch.

Porter’s hand never left mine as he led me down what felt like a mile long path but was probably only a couple of feet into the room.

“I’m going to take off your blindfold now, but don’t open your eyes until I tell you to. Okay?”

“Okay.”

As he removed the blindfold, he removed his body heat beside me. I could hear his heavy steps move away from me. Then he said the magic words.

“Open your eyes, Dow.”

I hesitated. Anxiety got the best of me. Even though my heart knew it was something fun and exciting, my brain tainted the expectations with an irrational fear of everything going wrong. The hormonal imbalances did a number on my mental health.

Inhale.

Three.

Two.