18. Renaissance Harper #5
Renza stood on the other side with one hand tucked in the pocket of his dark jeans and the other holdin’ his phone.
He had on a fitted black shirt that stretched across his chest and arms, and the chain around his neck rested against the fabric.
His haircut looked fresh enough for him to have just left the barber.
His waves was deep, his beard was dark and lined sharp around his face, and the sight of him had every thought in my head trippin’ over the next one.
Then his cologne reached me. That scent had always done somethin’ to me. It was deep, clean and expensive, and it mixed with the smell of his skin in a way that brought back too many nights of me sleepin’ against his chest.
Renza looked me over once, and the corner of his mouth lifted.
“You gon’ let me in?” He asked.
I stepped aside and tried to keep my face neutral. “You could’ve called and told me you was out here.”
“I was finna call,” he replied as he walked past me. “Then you beat me to it.”
I closed the door behind him and turned around. He had already slipped his shoes off near the wall like he still knew how I liked my floors, then he looked around the condo before bringin’ his eyes back to me.
“It smell good in here,” he said.
“I cooked earlier,” I answered while folding my arms. “You hungry?”
Renza walked closer and wrapped one arm around my waist before I could prepare myself. He pulled me into his chest and hugged me like it didn’t take no thought at all. My body softened against him before my pride could stop it.
I wrapped my arms around his waist and rested my cheek against his chest while that familiar warmth moved through me. He rubbed his hand along my back once, then kissed the top of my head before lettin’ me go.
“What you cook?” He asked.
“Steak, greens, mashed potatoes and cornbread.”
“Shid… I’ll take a plate,” he said without hesitatin’.
I looked up at him because I had expected him to say he already ate or wasn’t hungry. “You want all of it?”
“I do.”
“Sit down somewhere,” I told him while headin’ toward the kitchen. “I’mma warm it up.”
Renza pulled out one of the chairs at the dining table and sat while I fixed his food. I put the steak and potatoes on one side, added greens and cornbread, then covered the plate before puttin’ it in the microwave.
While it warmed, I could feel him watchin’ me.
I looked over my shoulder. “What?”
“Nothin’,” he answered, his eyes movin’ over me again. “You look good.”
The compliment came out simple, but it landed all through me.
“Thank you,” I replied before turnin’ back toward the microwave.
When the food was ready, I carried it to the table with a bottle of water and sat everything in front of him. Renza looked down at the plate, then picked up his fork and cut into the steak.
I went back to the living room, poured myself a little more wine and sat back on the couch while he ate. I turned the television on low, but my attention stayed on the sounds comin’ from the dining area.
Renza ate without talkin’ much. Every once in a while, he made a low sound like the food was hittin’, and I caught myself smilin’ into my glass.
Cookin’ for him felt normal in a way that made me nervous.
It was too easy to slip back into things we used to do and start actin’ like nothin’ had changed.
When he finished, he carried the plate in the kitchen himself. I heard water run while he rinsed it, then he walked into the living room dryin’ his hands on a napkin.
“That shit was good,” he told me as he sat beside me.
I looked over at him. “Thank you.”
He leaned back against the couch and spread one arm across the cushion behind me. Even without touchin’ me, his presence filled up the space. Renza had always known how to sit somewhere and make it feel like the whole room had shifted around him.
His eyes moved toward my wineglass. “How many of them you had?”
“This my third. I had a long day.”
“I know,” he replied. “You feel better now?”
I lowered the glass and looked at him. The way he asked made it clear he remembered everything I told him earlier.
“A lot better,” I answered honestly. “I think I just needed to get inside and stop movin’ for a minute.”
“You needed to eat too,” he said. “You eat?”
“I tasted the food while I cooked.”
“That ain’t eatin’.”
“I’ll fix me a plate later.”
He looked at me like he knew I probably wouldn’t, but he didn’t push it.
“You always did too much for niggas,” Renza told me. “But you worse now because you got more shit for people to call you about.”
“It ain’t like I can ignore my businesses.”
“I ain’t talkin’ about business,” he replied. “I’m talkin’ about everybody who know you gon’ handle they shit before you handle yours.”
I rested my head against the couch and looked toward him. “I don’t know how to just let people struggle when I can help.”
“That ain’t the same as bein’ responsible for ‘em,” he said. “Yo’ sister grown. Yo’ family grown. Them employees grown too. You keep doin’ everything for everybody, then wonder why nobody know how to do shit without you.”
I started to argue, but nothing came out because he wasn’t wrong.
“I feel guilty when I say no,” I admitted.
Renza turned his head toward me. “Why?”
“Because I got it,” I answered. “If somebody need money and I got enough to help, I feel wrong keepin’ it while they strugglin’. If my grandma need somebody to take her somewhere and I can do it, I feel like I’m supposed to go.”
“You can help without runnin’ yo’self in the ground,” he replied. “And just ‘cause you got money don’t mean everybody around you supposed to keep spendin’ it.”
I looked down at my glass. “You make it sound easy.”
“It is easy,” he replied. “Say no.”
I laughed a little and looked back at him. “That’s easy for you because you don’t care if people mad.”
“I care,” Renza corrected me. “I just don’t care enough to fuck myself over behind it.”
That made me laugh harder because it sounded exactly like him.
Renza smiled and shook his head before lookin’ toward the TV. “See, yo’ ass know I’m right.”
“I ain’t say you was right.”
“You laughin’ ‘cause I’m right.”
“I’m laughin’ because you don’t know how to say nothin’ nice.”
“I came over here, ate yo’ food and sat down to listen to all this shit,” he replied. “That’s nice enough.”
I looked at him for a second before smilin’ into my glass.
This was the Renza I missed…
I missed the way he could make me laugh when I was tired enough to cry. I missed the way he said the truth without dressin’ it up, and the way bein’ around him made everything outside the room feel a little less important.
We talked for a while after that. I told him more about the woman at the funeral home and how her daughters wanted every curl laid exactly the way she wore it when she was alive. Renza listened without interruptin’.
“I hate that I bring that shit home sometimes. I just don’t talk about it.”
“You don’t talk about most shit,” he said.
“That ain’t true.”
“It is,” he replied as he looked at me. “You talk when you mad. You don’t talk when you hurt.”
His words landed harder than I wanted them to. I looked down at my lap, then lifted the glass again even though there wasn’t much wine left inside it. “Maybe I don’t know how.”
“You knew how tonight.”
“That was different.”
“How?”
I thought about it before answerin’. “I didn’t have nobody else I wanted to call.”
Renza’s eyes stayed on me, but he didn’t rush to say anything. His face softened just enough for me to catch it, then he looked away like he didn’t want me readin’ too much into the moment.
I set my glass on the table and shifted closer before I had time to overthink it. My thigh brushed against his, and when Renza looked over, I placed my hand on top of his leg.
He kept his eyes on me…
I rubbed my palm along his thigh once, then left it there while the music played low around us.
The wine had loosened somethin’ inside me, but I wasn’t gone enough to misunderstand what I was doin’.
I knew shit between us was still complicated, and I knew one good conversation didn’t put us back where we used to be.
Still, Renza had come when I needed him.
He ate the food I made, sat next to me and listened while I let some of the weight off my shoulders.
Now his eyes was movin’ over my face, and the way he watched me made every nervous thought inside my head go quiet.
I leaned closer to Renza and put my hand on the side of his face, rubbin’ his beard and I couldn’t even explain how good it felt. I had missed this beard more than I realized. It was crazy how one touch from him could make every wall I spent months buildin’ start crumblin’ down
Renza was lookin’ and smellin’ so good that I couldn’t help but press my lips to his and kiss him. The way he pulled me close and pushed his tongue in my mouth made me feel like he was my nigga again.
Renza didn’t hesitate. The second my lips touched his, he pulled me into him like his body remembered mine before his mind had the chance to argue with it.
His hand settled against my waist while his tongue slid against mine, and I melted into him without a second thought.
My nails disappeared into his soft waves, scratchin’ real light across his scalp while I held him.