New Jack City: The Beginning
Conclusion: Turn This House Into A Home...
“You never answered my question, Bri. I asked if you remembered what we were doing the first time we were in this room.” As he watched her try and recall the event that was so imprinted upon his memory, Jack answered in her stead. “We’d just argued about how to furnish this place,” he began. “You were insistent the people Stefan selected furnish it before we moved in; you said it would be easier. You were right, by the way,” he admitted stubbornly. “But that’s not the point. I said we should do it bit by bit, and so we found ourselves here on a rainy Saturday afternoon—”
“We started with the dining room,” Sabrina interjected softly.
“Yeah,” Jack nodded. “We had about four or five boxes moved in, nothing unpacked,” he laughed. “It wasn’t even an hour before I suggested we take a break and—”
“We slow danced to Sam Cooke,” she added, her eyes now brimming with fresh tears. “I think the song was Cupid?”
“It was,” he replied. “And somewhere in between arguing over what would get moved in, how it would happen, and when, with a little help from Sam Cooke...” Jack’s voice trailed off as he sought to compose himself.
“That baby you’re carrying...” He cleared his throat, his voice trembling more than his hands still cupping his wife’s face. “My baby. We made that baby...here, Bri. In this house.”
“Mansion,” she corrected, laughing softly.
“Yeah,” he agreed, relieved to see a smile slowly beginning to grace her features once more, “mansion.” His thumbs smoothed away her tears. “And we will rebuild this house. Make more memories, more babies if we can. We are going to make a life...in this house. And this house will be filled with life and love.”
His piercing blue gaze bore into Sabrina’s watery brown orbs as his next words were spoken springing it seemed from the depths of Jack’s soul.
“It’s just like how it was with you and me, babe. It can’t be denied. It will happen, Bri,” he vowed. “Nothing can stop it.”
Song Credit: A House Is Not A Home—Luther Vandross