Israel

by Celeste Granger

  “Babe,” Cairo questioned.

  Israel’s smile broadened as he reached out, taking both her hands into his own.

  “You know I think you are incredible, right?”

  “Yes,” she trepidatiously answered.

  “Well, you have been doing incredible things, both as a distinguished archaeologist and mentor. The work you’re doing with young girls really speaks to your heart and the kind of woman you are. That’s what made it so easy for me to fall in love with you, Cairo. You are selfless, always striving to broaden the imaginations of those around you. So, in a small way, I wanted to support that.”

  “What do you mean, babe? I don’t understand.”

  “Cairo, this is your lot, babe, for the erection of the Dr. Davis Archaeological Center or whatever you’d like to name it.”

  “Wh-what?”

  “It’s all yours, the lot, the building you’re going to design with the architect I’ve hired,” Israel smiled. “It’s all for you.”

  “I can’t believe you would do something like this for me,” Cairo mused, her eyes trailing the space again. She was filled with merriment and gratitude as her eyes misted over with tears. “And the shovel,” Cairo exclaimed.

  “Yeah,” Israel grinned. “That’s a little nod to the archaeology of it all.”

  “I love it, sweet, I love it, and I love you.”

  She pulled Israel’s hands forward until they were firmly wrapped around her waist. Cairo reached up and cradled his face in her hands and then kissed him, dotting Israel’s cheeks and lips with sweet kisses.

  “You wanna go turn over a little dirt,” Israel teased.

  “You know I do,” Cairo grinned.

  Israel spun Cairo on her heels until she was neatly tucked in the strength of his arm and facing forward. They walked the few feet to the entrance of the site where the ribbon separated the dig from the sidewalk.

  “Oh, hold on one minute,” Israel said, temporarily leaving Cairo on the sidewalk as he returned to the car. Popping the trunk, Israel reached inside and retrieved the things he needed. Cairo watched with great interest as he returned with something tucked under his arm.

  “What in the world,” Cairo uttered as Israel lowered his tall frame and rolled out a red-carpet runner from the edge of the sidewalk onto the ground of the site.

  “Ha,” she exclaimed. “You thought of everything.”

  “I couldn’t have you traipsing in the dirt unprepared, now could I?”

  “Guess not,” Cairo smiled.

  “And this is for the ribbon,” Israel suggested, reaching in the back pocket of his black jeans, and pulling out a pair of scissors.

  The smile on Cairo’s face was everything Israel could have hoped for and more. She accepted the scissors from him. Israel held the ribbon in place as Cairo took the shears and cut through it, christening the space.

  “This is too much, Israel,” she mused as he guided her down the center of the red carpet until they reached the shovel. “Too much.”

  “There is no such thing when it comes to you,” he crooned as his eyes caught and held hers.

  “Let’s do this together,” Cairo purred as she lowered her thick mink lashes and then returned her gaze to him.

  “I would like that,” Israel agreed.

  Israel took Cairo by the waist, positioning his frame behind her as Cairo reached for the shovel. He placed his large hand over hers as together, they eased the point into the dirt and then lifted some onto the blade before dumping it in a small mound. The ground of Cairo’s new center had been broken, and her heart was filled with joy. She still hadn’t wrapped her mind around Israel’s generosity before he leaned in and whispered into her ear.

  “I don’t think I told you,” he began.

  “What,” Cairo iterated, inclining her ear to him.

  “You also have a twin building being erected in Atlanta.”

  Her eyes widened, and Cairo’s mouth fell slightly ajar as her mind tried to process what her sweetheart just said. She couldn’t turn around to face Israel fast enough.

  “Honey,” she finally uttered, finally being able to put her pouty lips together to articulate the word. “I can’t, babe-”

  The words stopped short in Cairo’s throat as she watched Israel descend, dropping down onto one knee.

  “Cairo, there is nothing in this world that I wouldn’t do for you, nothing. Once I realized how much fuller you made my life, how you occupied my thoughts and made my very existence more meaningful, I realized there was no way I could go another day without having you as my wife. I love you, Cairo, all of you, and I accept you just as you are, wholly and completely,” he smiled.

  Her head was spinning. Cairo’s mind was reeling. She couldn’t believe what was happening.

  “And I hope that you accept me just as I am and are willing to make me the happiest man in the entire world by becoming my wife.”

  Israel reached inside his jacket pocket and pulled out a black velvet box. When he opened the lid, Cairo inhaled on a gasp. Taking the six-carat, pear-shaped diamond from the box, Israel asked Cairo the most important question of her life.

  “Dr. Cairo Davis, will you marry me?”

  She couldn’t stand any longer. Cairo’s knees wouldn’t let her. Her heart was full as the tears that brimmed on her lids began to spill on her cheeks. She knelt in front of him, unable to hold back the tears anymore. Cairo’s hands went to her face, covering her eyes as she cried. Slowly, Cairo revealed her eyes to him, and she nodded before she could speak.

  “Is that a yes,” Israel asked as his heart thundered in his chest.

  She nodded again, “Yes, Israel, I want to be your wife.”

  He breathed a long sigh of relief as he eased her left hand down from her cheek and slid the engagement ring onto her delicate finger. Cairo’s eyes trailed to his latest gift, and she shook her head in disbelief. Israel reached up, taking his thumb and carefully wiped the tears from her glistening cheeks. Overcome once more, Cairo threw her arms around Israel’s neck and pulled him into her. She was going to be Mrs. Israel Ali.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Six Months Later

  It was easy for Cairo to decide who she wanted to stand with her on her wedding day. Charity and Aya had been so inviting, so welcoming, and so sisterly when they met that first day at the Ali home, Cairo couldn’t think of anyone she wanted more than the two helping her through the process. It goes without saying that Catherine was overjoyed at the news of their engagement. Cairo didn’t know it at the time, but Israel had spoken with her father first, then her mother, seeking and securing their blessing even before he popped the question. Although it was hard for Mr. Davis to imagine someone else being responsible for his daughter, he willingly agreed to their union. He was impressed with Israel from the outset, and he felt his new son in love would honor his daughter as Israel promised he would.

  The archaeological centers Israel had given Cairo as engagement gifts were under construction. Mr. Ali had given Cairo full use of one of the family’s private jets to travel back and forth to meet with the architect in the development of the design and to have official breaking ground ceremonies for each property. Cairo and Daphne Moore had also had an opportunity to meet and fully discuss Cairo, extending her archaeological programming to the student body of Moore Academy. Her life had been a whirlwind of incredible things manifesting. And now it was a week before the big day.

  “Can you believe it’s the final fitting,” Aya asked as she and Charity tried on their matron of honor gowns in the luxurious dressing room of the House of Thurin. Jean Ralph Thurin, couture designer to the elite, personally crafted Cairo’s wedding ensemble as well as the gowns for Charity and Aya.

  “No, I can’t, but I’m excited,” Charity replied as she shimmied the gown over her hips.

  “Let me help you with that,” one of the assistants suggested.

  “Thank you,” Charity smiled as the assistant adjusted the gown and then zipped it in the b
ack.

  “Come on, ladies,” Cairo chimed. “I can’t wait to see you.”

  “We’re coming,” Aya called out.

  And they did. The door to the dressing room opened, and the ladies emerged in their custom gowns.

  “Wow,” Cairo smiled, gazing at each one of the ladies from head to toe.

  “Honey, it’s a good thing you ladies are already married up because if you weren’t, these gowns might bring all the boys to the yard.”

  “They still might,” Charity giggled, looking at her reflection in one of the full-length mirrors that lined the walls of the larger dressing space.

  “It’s beautiful, Cairo,” Aya smiled as she gazed into her mirror. “Thanks so much for having me.”

  “Aya, don’t you start,” Cairo cautioned as she lifted herself from her chair and padded over to where Aya and Charity stood. Cairo understood what Aya meant. Family and friends were even more important to her than most. She hadn’t had the luxury of growing up taking those kinds of relationships for granted as Aya was estranged from her family and hadn’t fostered many friendships even in adulthood. Cairo could relate to that component, although their reasons for doing so were vastly different. The three women bonded and connected and mattered to each other.

  “I’m not going to cry,” Aya sighed, waving her hands in front of her eyes to try and quell the tears threatening to spill from her lids.

  “Don’t, Aya, please,” Cairo simpered, sliding her arm around Aya’s waist, and pulling her in. “Because if you start, then I’ll start, and then we’ll both be a mess.”

  “Well, I won’t be joining you, ladies, on the tear fest,” Charity smirked. “Cause I look too damn good in this dress to be crying, hunty.”

  That was the lighthearted moment the ladies needed to bring themselves back from the brink. Although busy, this was a time of celebration, and Cairo was appreciative of Charity’s levity.

  “Dr. Davis, we are ready for you now,” the head assistant advised.

  “Okay, then,” Cairo smiled as she followed the assistant to the bridal dressing space.

  While Cairo was away, Charity and Aya changed back into their regular clothing and were waiting for Cairo when she emerged in her custom-made gown.

  “Oh my God, Cairo,” Charity swooned, her hands lifting to her chest.

  “So beautiful,” Aya agreed.

  She didn’t understand why she was so nervous, merely walking out into the dressing area. Israel wasn’t there, yet, Cairo could feel her heartbeat escalating as she gingerly padded to the three-way mirror.

  “Let me help you with the step,” Dr. Davis, the assistant suggested.

  Cairo extended her hand, and the assistant helped with the train of her gown, not releasing the bride until she stood in the center of the pedestal. Although Cairo had been a part of the design process, sitting down with Jean Ralph and watching as he drew her vision onto paper, seeing the manifestation of her vision nearly took Cairo’s breath away. The fit was flawless as she completed a full three hundred and sixty-degree turn in front of the mirrors.

  “Dr. Davis.”

  All heads turned as the designer himself entered the room.

  “Mr. Thurin, I can’t believe you’re here.”

  Jean Ralph strolled over to the podium, acknowledging the bridesmaids as he passed. When he reached Cairo, he leaned in, offering a warm hug.

  “We’ve talked about this before, please, call me Jean Ralph.”

  “I will, only if you remember to call me Cairo.”

  “That’s a deal,” Jean Ralph smiled. “Let me take a look at you.”

  Through his designer’s eye, Jean Ralph slowly strolled around the bride, examining every facet of the gown from the way the train fell, to every intricate detail of Swarovski crystal, hand sown on the bodice, to the finishing hem of the sleeves.

  “Would you like to see the final look,” Jean Ralph asked as he finished his assessment.

  “Yes, I would,” Cairo smiled. She felt kind of giddy inside and was immediately struck by the fact that she never thought, not in a million years, that she would be getting married. All those years of being discouraged about seriously pursuing a relationship, instead, throwing herself into her work to dull the ache of not being fulfilled in that way, was a part of her past now. And now, here she was standing in a luxury design house, having the lead designer present for her final fitting, with two newfound friends willingly standing by her side for her special day. Not only was that part of her dream becoming a reality, the best part was that Cairo was marrying such an incredible man that loved her totally. The thought was enough to choke her up again. Cairo took a deep breath, placing her hands on her belly to try and center herself as she breathed in and out. This was real. She didn’t want to cry through it. She wanted to enjoy every minute.

  Thurin’s assistant returned with Cairo’s headpiece and veil and a small bouquet to finalize the look. Jean Ralph positioned Cairo’s headpiece and gently draped her veil before stepping aside so she could approve the final look.

  The bouquet began to shake in Cairo’s hand. Before her first tear could fall, Aya and Charity were right there by her side.

  “Breathtaking, Cairo. Simply breathtaking.”

  Across town, Israel was in his penthouse having his final fitting. O’Shea and Basel were with him. They would stand with Israel as he shared his vows with his bride to be.

  “Are you ready for this,” O’Shea asked as the men were attended to by the fitting team from PerfectTux, the premiere African American formalwear designer under the guidance of owner, Steven Burton.

  “I was born ready,” Israel teased as the cuff of his custom tuxedo pants was measured.

  “Born ready?” Basel echoed.

  “He’s probably right,” O’Shea chortled. “You remember his first girlfriend, don’t you, Basel?”

  Basel steepled his hands, thinking back to those early days when they were children.

  “Samantha Calloway,” Basel chuckled.

  “That’s right, Little Miss Calloway,” O’Shea laughed. “You remember how he introduced her to us?”

  “Man, Israel had a Kool-Aid smile from ear to ear. This is Samantha. She’s going to be my wife.”

  “He couldn’t have been more than what, five or six at the time?”

  “I was five,” Israel chimed in. “I told you, straight ready for a wife out of the gate.”

  “Well, then, I’m a little confused,” Basel commented, adjusting the sleeves of his tuxedo coat.

  “About what,” Israel asked.

  “All those ladies in between,” Basel jabbed.

  “Practice runs, brother, practice runs,” Israel laughed.

  O’Shea shook his head, and Basel did the same.

  “No seriously,” Israel began clearing his throat. “I always knew I wanted to be married. And although I dated a few women, I never led them on, made promises I had no intention of keeping, and I was honest with them upfront about where I was and what I wanted our contact level to be.”

  “I hear you, bro,” O’Shea replied. “Because when your queen shows up, you know.”

  “Almost instantly,” Basel agreed.

  “And that’s how I felt the moment Cairo entered my life,” Israel affirmed.

  “I’m happy for you, bro, for real,” O’Shea offered. “Marrying Charity is the best thing I could have ever done. You and Cairo are going to be amazing together.”

  “I believe that, O,” Israel agreed. “I believe that.”

  “Excuse me, Mr. Ali.”

  “Yes, Carl,” Israel replied.

  “I just wanted to confirm that the cuff is to your liking?”

  Israel took a moment to reevaluate the fit of his slacks, looking at his reflection but also trailing his eyes down the length of his slacks to see the break.

  “Looks good, Carl,” Israel answered.

  “Then we’ll make the cuff final. Thank you, sir.”

  “Absolutely.”

 
; The assistants made their final notes on all three tuxedoes before excusing themselves from the room.

  “Just one more week, man, and you’ll be married. Nervous?” O’Shea asked.

  “No, I’m not nervous,” Israel replied. “I can’t wait to see her. You know she’s pulled out the traditional can’t see the bride before the wedding on me.”

  “As she should,” O’Shea guffawed.

  “It just makes the moment you see her even more special,” Basel added.

  “Aya, did you like that, too?”

  “She sure did,” Basel lamented. “It just made me want to see her even more.”

  “And I’m sure it was worth the wait,” O’Shea suggested.

  “Wouldn’t change a thing,” Basel replied.

  “I just want everything to be good for her, you know. I want everything to be good so that she doesn’t have to worry or be concerned or fret for the rest of our lives together,” Israel admitted.

  “And she won’t, bro, because you are an Ali man,” O’Shea reminded. “We do what we promise we’ll do.”

  “And you know, if you need anything, someone to talk to, someone to just listen, whatever, counsel, no matter what, we’ve got your back,” Basel reassured. “We all do.”

  “That I know for sure,” Israel nodded.

  Chapter Nineteen

  One Week Later

  Tsakopoulos Library Galleria

  I miss you.

  I miss you, too, babe.

  I can’t wait to see you, kiss you, hold you in my arms again.

  It feels like a lifetime since I woke up next to you. That’s my safe place.

  We won’t have to wait too much longer, babe.

  “Cairo, you’re making it hard for the makeup artist to do her job,” Charity fussed.

  “Okay, okay,” Cairo sighed, rereading the last message Israel sent.

  “Sorry,” Cairo extended an apology to the artist. “I’ll do better,” Cairo smiled.

  “Do I need to take your phone?” Aya asked.