Choose Me (51 page)

“Where’s Hassan and Caswanna?” I asked.

“In the back, doing inventory.”

I broke the ice. “Where’s my ring?”

“You want a ring?” she asked, her face breaking into a smile.

She laid the flowers in front of me and sat down, sliding her chair closer to mine. I dug through the foliage. “Is the ring
in here somewhere?”

“I’m sorry, Adam.”

Worn out from the days of waiting and wanting, of feeling hurt, angry, and tense, I finally relaxed, leaning back in my chair
as I twirled the candleholder on the table.

“I wanted to propose to you the old-fashioned way, down on one knee and all that,” I explained. “But I thought that was so
passé and I wanted the proposal to be unique. I don’t know what happened. Something told me to propose that day. Maybe it
was seeing Jade so happy. Perhaps it was God. I guess when you’re sitting around with all the other little old ladies talking
about how your husband proposed, you can tell them how you turned me down—”

She moved the candlestick out of reach and put her hands over mine to stop my nervous twirling. “I didn’t turn you down. I
said—”

“I wanted my proposal to be memorable,” I persisted. “At the beach, where I first told you ‘I love you’ in Spanish?” I paused.
“I even wrote you a poem—”

“You wrote me a poem?” she asked, perking up like a kid. “Where is it?”

I tapped my chest to indicate I knew it by heart. She swallowed and whispered, “Recite it.”

I shook my head, suddenly feeling inhibited. “Too late. You upstaged me.”

She reached out and brushed back the sweaty, sticky hairs from my forehead.
“Recítalo,
now.”

With our elbows on the table, we interlocked hands and looked into each other’s eyes as I recited the poem:

Dear Eva,

Who are thee to me?

let me see

you are the woman I hoped for

before you came into my life

who opened my eyes

and opened my mind

time and time again

Who are thee to me?

let me see

you are the woman I wished for

before my wish came true

and took over my thoughts

and helped me see God

once again

Who are thee to me?

let me see

you are the woman I prayed for

before my prayers were answered

the woman I will love

as I love my own body

like Christ loved the church

over and over again

Who are thee to me?

You ask?

You are

the Eve to my Adam

whom God made from him

as I am

the Adam to your Eve

made of God’s breath and dust

You are

who You are

the woman I will love

forever and ever

until the end of time

Love, Adam

Before I could finish, she was pulling away one hand to wipe the silent tears that were sliding down her face. “Thank you.
It’s beautiful,” she mumbled, her head lowered as she fumbled for a napkin at the next table. I cupped her face in my hands
as she tried to wipe her eyes. Seeing her so emotional moved me and I felt my own eyes clouding over.

“
You’re
beautiful.”

“Right. With snot running down my face,” she said, sniffling and laughing at the same time. I kissed her palms, the aroma
from the orchids soaked in the veins. “So is that a yes?” she asked.

“Not until you get down on your knee,” I joked. When she started to slide down to the floor, I pulled her up. “You know, you’re
the only woman I’ve ever brought here.”

“That’s nice. What’s your answer?” she asked, cutting me off.

I laughed. “How do you say ‘kiss me’ again?”

She sucked her teeth. “You know how.”

“
Besame,
Eva,
besame,
” I beseeched her.

But she had already anticipated my move and was leaning over to meet my lips. “We
really
have to work on expanding your Spanish vocabulary.”

It was a simple kiss, hesitant and adolescent, our lips barely touching, as if we were afraid of getting carried away, but
in its simplicity was a myriad of emotions, desire being the least of them. When we came apart, I expressed my gratitude to
the One responsible, “Thank you, God.”

I smiled at her, and by the look on her face, I could tell she wasn’t finished.

“What?”

“Adam, you know, we don’t have to rush into this,” she then said. “Pastor suggested we join the couples’ ministry.” She paused
as my smile slowly faded. “For premarital counseling. Maya said it’s helping her marriage. And we’re going to have to be engaged
for a while,
no?
”

The Spanish “no” didn’t do anything for me this time. “For how long?” I asked sullenly.

“I don’t know. A couple of months. A year?”

I shook my head. “Uh-uh. I’m not waiting a year. If you don’t know by now that you want to marry me, you’ll never know.”

She grabbed my hands. “I already know I want to marry you, you nut.”

I groaned, thinking about sitting around in a group discussing my personal business with members of the congregation. I didn’t
mind God being in the midst of my life, but I had never been a “purging my soul in public” kind of guy. Still, the important
thing remained that Eva said “yes.”

“Alright,” I finally answered.

“You’ll go to counseling?”

“
Si,
‘Meesees’ Black,” I joked with an exaggerated Spanish accent.

“About that …” she started.

“I don’t even want to hear it.”

Laughing, she pulled me to her so hastily she almost tipped over with her chair. We kissed eagerly as if we weren’t going
to be spending the rest of our lives together.

FIRST AND ALWAYS
, thank you to the true Father in my life, who endowed me with my creativity, taught me the real meaning of
love, and showed me that death is nothing to fear. Thank You for being my rock, for training my hands for war, and my fingers
for battle.

In addition, I would like to thank the following:

My mother, Sylvia Rodriguez Benitez, who in her tranquil belief in God demonstrated the fervor and immensity of His truth.

My younger sister (by one year), L. Marie Ruíz Johnson, who has always inspired and encouraged me, who never fails to make
me laugh, and whose strength, determination, and faith to save her twenty-plus-year marriage has been a motivating force,
as well as a humbling example.

My little babysister, Madeleine Benitez, whom I wished for and got, and who is a part of the new women of the millennium with
the education and ability to change the world and men’s views toward them.

My sisterfriend T’Resay (Theresa) Drape-Jones, the inspiration for “Simone/S’Monée,” who told me to set my book free so that
others can get the intended blessings. I hope you receive its blessings as well.

My sisterfriend Pamela Keys, with whom I have had the privilege of sharing the drama that is life, the dreams that have come
to fruition, and those that have yet to be realized.

My cousin Elvia Perez, who always told me I should use my
don
to write for God.

To John and Latin Liz Kobel at www.boricua.com, who first published my work on-line and provided me with numerous fans who
have fueled my passion to keep writing.

To Lissette Calderon, founder and CEO of
Cuerpo
magazine, who had a vision to present Latinas in a true light. You are truly an awesome little woman with a huge heart.

To Marcela Landres, for creating
Latinidad
and helping a new generation of Latino writers achieve publishing success.

My former agent, Denise Stinson, for believing in me. Who would have thought, when we first met in 1997, our paths would cross
again? Some people call it coincidence; I call it fate.

Many thanks to Walk Worthy Press and Warner Books for creating a venue where this genre of fiction can be shared with the
rest of the world.

A special thanks to my editors, Karen Kosztolnyik, Robert Castillo, and Susan Higgins, for their most diligent work and kind
words.

Para
Arsenia Morales Rodriguez, my grandmother and family matriarch:
aunque no entiendas las palabras en este libro, te doy las gracias por aser el primer ejemplo de una mujer independiente.

To all who read early drafts and/or influenced my life in one way or another: Delwin “DJ” Johnson, Enjoli Johnson, Daelen
Johnson Wideman, Delwin L. “Diel” Johnson, Aurelio Benitez, Luis and Kimberley Quiñones, Lauren Quiñones, Meghan Quiñones,
Gabriella Quiñones, Ruben and Marianne Benitez, Krystalyn Benitez, Jazmin Benitez, Hector Perez, Elisa Perez, Amaris Perez,
Alyssia Perez, Diane and Alfredo “Punkin” Correa, Siahn Correa, Sofie Sierra-Alise Correa, William “Chany” and Dominga Quiles,
Martha Padilla, Ramon Jamil Padilla, Miguel Ruiz, Ryan Cawthorne, Katie Mae Keys, André Taylor, Alexander Ruben Dunbar, Casey
and Corey Keys, Benito and Ana “Tata” Benitez, Juan “Pichy” Rodríguez, Genaro and Delia “Nany” Benitez, Wilfredo Benitez,
Yolanda Falcón, Alyson Benitez, Jannise Benitez, Vladimir “Blah” Benitez, Sonia Nieves, Sylvia Rosario, Arleen Rivera, Janet
Ruiz Nieves, Carlos Rivera, Lindsay Demidovich, Lizzette Pellót, Evelyn Rocha, Jacqueline Rollins, Sylvia Buyco, Beatriz Moreno,
Sofia Carrera, Joanne Prinzevalle, Linda Robinson, JoAnn Reed, Shannon Miller, Cynthia Escobedo, and Jan Forsline.

To Dr. Richard Davison, whom I consider the surrogate “earthly father” I never had, who taught me so much in our almost twenty-year
acquaintance. Thanks for all the Spanish lessons, jokes, gossip, and stories, and for making my day job tolerable.

To Dr. Dan Fintel, one of the best “bosses” I have had the privilege of working for, and an overall great guy.

My extended family of cousins—first, second, and third, cousins’ wives and husbands, and nieces and nephews, and anyone else
whom I failed to mention specifically by name. Your lack of mention in these pages has nothing to do with disregard. There
will be future books, and I will remember to thank you all—eventually. So stop trying to make me feel guilty!

Finally, and most important of all, I want to thank my children, the loves of my life: Zena-Maria Sylvia and Jameson Roberto,
who have provided me with plenty of material over the years and whom I pray for always. My hope for you is that you love yourselves
and love each other as God loves you—unconditionally. And remember, with God, all things are possible.

"Walk worthy Press books remind us that in every area of our lives He truly cares for us."

—T. D. J
AKES

“ADAM, IF WE’RE GOING TO DATE, YOU HAVE TO REALIZE I’M SERIOUS ABOUT MY CELIBACY.”

He bent his head, gently parting my lips with his. A tide of desire washed through my body. Before I had a chance to protest,
he pulled back.

“You asked if I could be with a woman without having a sexual relationship,” he began quietly. “The answer is, ‘I don’t know.’
I’ve never had that kind of relationship with a woman. You said you can’t be in a relationship that may not lead to marriage,
but you don’t know if you want to ever get married again. I
know
I’m not ready for marriage. Eventually I do want to, but I don’t know when.”

His fingers were still in my hair. I reached up and took hold of his wrist, but I didn’t push him away.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you since I met you,” he continued. “Those are my honest feelings. Now it’s your turn …”

“Praise God! You need to get yourself a little taste of CHOOSE ME. It is my favorite kind of book—the kind I can’t put down!”

—M
ICHELE
A
NDREA
B
OWEN
, #1
E
SSENCE
BESTSELLING AUTHOR OF
C
HURCH
F
OLK
AND
S
ECOND
S
UNDAY