“I needed to hear your voice,” I told her.
She told me that she had prayed for us. I was silent. I had limits to my hypocrisy.
“I want to see you again, Terrell, but I have to be careful,” she said.
“Why?” I asked.
“Because I catch feelings really fast. And I don’t want to be hurt.”
“When can we have dinner Ann?” I asked.
“I don’t know, Terrell. I don’t want to rush things, and I don’t want to get hurt.”
I knew there was a story behind her fear of getting hurt. Her story was my opening. I wanted to hear it. I asked her again,
“We can go to dinner or I can cook for you?”
“Cook?” She seemed impressed again. “You can cook?” she asked.
I laughed and told her how many brothers I had.
“Of course, I can cook.”
She paused and said, “Why don’t I cook for you first?” The anticipation of
