“Mo, you’re twenty-one years old,” he said. “In a perfect world, I’d be picking you up for the movies on a Friday night, taking you to Miami for the weekend or something, not forcing marriage down your throat. I’d date you. We’d get to know one another. You’d probably break up with a nigga a few times, but I ain’t crazy, I know your worth, so I’d work like a mu’fucka to get you back,” he chuckled. “And then when you’re older. When you’ve become a woman that can make a decision that affects the rest of your life, I’d ask you. I wouldn’t do it before that.
Finally some adult talk.
