Twenty-Three
TWENTY-THREE
SOLEIL
I look around the kitchen, searching for the towel that is always in its spot on the handle of the oven. My mind plays back last night after I washed the dishes, and I swear I sat it right where it should be. But maybe I was so hurried to reply to the messages I had from King, and a text from Malik to remember anything beyond that.
After the incident with Wesley and how Malik responded playfully, I was left swooning. Then after dinner, I noticed a notification that a message from King was waiting for me. I took a quick peek at it, but didn’t fully immerse myself in his words until after Dahlia had gone to bed.
I stood at the sink with my phone on the counter, luring me to abandon the dishes and play with King for a while. And when I finally read his message, my mind was basically one track.
King: I missed you today, my Sunny Girl.
Me: How can you miss me? You don’t even have me.
King: Oh you’re mine. I’m just waiting for you to admit it to yourself.
Me: You’re awfully confident.
King: Because I’m the King, baby.
A shiver rolls through my body now the way it did last night. I stood at the counter, squeezing my thighs together as the arousal soaked my panties. But that was only the tip of the iceberg because Malik added to the lusting.
Malik: So about this morning…Do any more thinking on it?
Me: I have. I am. But I have concerns.
Malik: Tell me. What are your concerns?
Me: I don’t want Dahlia to know. She’s a child and I don’t want her getting any ideas.
Malik: Ideas? Like what? Like you and I could be a forever thing? That we could have the happily ever after you’ve always dreamed of? Wish fulfilled. What’s next?
Me: Malik. You cannot say things like that. We barely know each other.
Malik: I can say them if they’re true. I feel it, Soleil. I feel you in my heart. I feel that we can be great. Say yes to us and I’ll show just how amazing we can be.
I was a mess of need and emotions and utter chaos. How did I go from resolving to put my all into my daughter and fine with setting my life on the back burner, to being pulled between two men? One that I can never see, and one that can see through me.
“Mommy. Did you hear me?” I blink and suddenly I’m back in my kitchen with the water still running and my daughter staring at me, and not laying in Malik’s arms in bed.
“I’m sorry baby. Can you repeat yourself?” I turn off the faucet because I don’t even remember why I had it on in the first place, and walk over to the table where she eats her toast.
“I said I think I need more cimmamim on my peanut butter and banana toast.”
“Cinnamon,” I correct.
“Right. Cimmamim. Can I have more please?” With a smile and a nod, I grab the spice jar and shake a few more times on her toast.
“Good?”
“Perfect. Thanks, Mommy.”
“You’re wel–” My phone buzzes on the counter, echoing through the mostly quiet house.
Dahlia takes a bigger than necessary bite of her food, not the least bit concerned with the buzzing of the phone, while I wonder who could be calling so early.
Flipping it over I see a number I don’t recognize, but it’s local and it could be something important. Dahlia is engrossed in her book about a little boy who just doesn’t understand the word no, so I step into the laundry room to take the call.
“Hello?”
“Soleil?” the deep voice on the other end says.
“This is she. And who is this?”
“It’s Wesley. Collier.” Goosebumps dot my flesh putting the name and face together.
“Not to be rude but, how did you get my number?” I finger the mismatched socks that sit on the dryer and remind myself to go in search of their missing mates.
“The parent information form. I know it says for emergencies, but I’m not on school drop off this morning and I wanted to ask you about this afternoon.” His voice is peppy and it irks me.
I rack my brain for something that school or Malik has scheduled this afternoon but nothing comes to mind.
“Uh, I guess I’m not sure what you’re talking about. Is there an event at school I missed?”
“Oh no. Nothing like that. I just thought I’d invite you and Dahlia to meet Mason and I at the park. The weather looks nice and it would be a good day to let them run out some of that energy they always bring home.”
My first inclination is to say no, just like I have the previous ten times he’s asked. But I’m starting to run out of excuses as to why I can never meet him. Work, doctor’s appointment, family, now a fictional boyfriend that, if I decided, wouldn’t be so fictional.
With a sigh, I decide to just give in and get the damn thing over with. Maybe he’ll stop asking.
“Sure. We can do that. The park closest to school?” There’s a small neighborhood park just a few blocks from school, and it seems to be a safe and neutral location.
“Perfect,” he says, his voice much more chipper. “I’ll have some snacks. Mason is always starving after school and can’t wait until we get home.”
I chuckle because that is all too familiar. “Same. Dahlia gets in the car as if she hasn’t eaten in days.” The line falls silent before I say, “Well, we’ll see you later.”
“Yes. Later, Soleil. Have a good day.”
“You too.” I end the call because the man just gives me the creeps and I don’t want the conversation to drag on.
“Mommy! I’m done!” Dahlia shouts from the kitchen.
“Coming.” Walking in I find that she has placed her plate and glass in the sink, and she stands next to it with a big smile of pride. “You did it all by yourself?”
“Yup. I’m getting real big. I can do big girl jobs now.”
She’s right. She is getting big and it breaks my heart.
“So proud of you. Now let’s get going before we’re late.” We race off to get shoes and laugh the entire drive to school.
As usual, Malik is waiting at his door to greet every student that walks in. And as usual, my stomach does a somersault when I see him. He sends a tingle all the way to my toes and it makes me think of my incredibly real dream I had of him last night. I swear, it was like I could feel him touching me. When I woke up this morning, my body felt relieved and I knew instantly my hand had a mind of its own while I slept.
Not the first time it’s happened.
“Good morning, Dahlia.”
“Mr. Dare! I had cimmamim on my bananas and peanut butter this morning. Just like you said.” Now I find out where that request spurred from.
I thought it was another kid.
“Cinnamon,” he corrects her just as I did.
“That’s what I said.” She looks at him with a funny look on her face before she hugs and kisses me goodbye and runs off.
“Morning, beautiful.” Malik’s voice is husky and strikes a chord in me that has my cha-cha singing Haaa-lelujah.
“Good morning.” I keep my smile under control despite wanting to throw my arms around his neck and kiss him.
“Would you be interested in meeting for dinner tonight? And by meeting I mean we just happen to be having dinner at the same place where we conveniently run into one another. Nothing suspicious about that, right?”
God what I wouldn’t do to say yes, but my conversation with Wesley puts a wet sheet on that fire.
“That sounds great but I-we have plans. Sorry.” His face falls and guilt swirls in my belly instead of the butterflies from just moments ago. “Next time?”
With a tight smile he says, “Sure. Next time.”
The bell rings and I toss him a wink before leaving. I look back before exiting and he still stands there, watching me and looking a little crestfallen. That look is the exact reason why I don’t tell him our plans are with Wesley. That sad little boy expression.
That and the fact that I think his sadness would turn into hulk-like rage hearing Wesley’s name. He’s made it abundantly clear how he feels about that man.
One playdate and then that’s the end.
“So I said listen, my son comes first in my life. And if you can’t understand that, then I don’t think we can continue this relationship. Needless to say she was not pleased, but as a single parent you have to put your kid first. You know that. I feel like only another single parent understands how important that is.”
Wesley has droned on and on about himself for the last forty-five minutes we’ve been at the park, and I’m about ready to shove an ice pick through my ear. It is abundantly clear that he thinks very highly of himself and he wants me to feel the same. I can’t tell you the number of times I have zoned out only for him to ask me a question that I smile and nod my head at. For all I know, I’ve agreed to move in and wait on him hand and foot, which I can tell he would enjoy.
Once again I have lost all touch with reality when he says, “Is that Mr. Dare?”
I blink and begin looking around the park. It doesn’t take long for me to spot him waving at the kids as they play on the swings. Mason waves haphazardly from his swing, while Dahlia jumps off and goes running straight for him.
She jumps and he catches her, wrapping herself around him and kicking her feet.
“Does she always hug him like that?” Wesley’s voice is condescending.
“Uh, pretty much. She thinks he’s the best thing since bubblegum ice cream.” I watch the two of them interact and can see how much joy each brings out in the other.
“Isn’t that a little weird? Him always hugging and talking with her? I mean, if it were Mase I’d be concerned.”
I turn to look at him as he watches the two of them with a discerning eye. “I don’t think so. He’s very passionate about teaching and it shows by how much his students love him. And when little kids love, they don’t know how to censor it for certain people. They see him more than some parents probably do, so it’s natural that they would develop a feeling for him like they would their moms and dads. If she was fifteen and he was hugging on her teacher like that, yes, I’d be quite concerned. But she’s five and doesn’t have a father around, so she’s taken to him as a male role model. And if that is who she looks up to, I couldn’t pick someone better.”
My rant has Wesley staring at me speechless and I’m glad I could silence his yakking mouth.
Directing my attention back to the play area, I notice Dahlia point a finger in our direction and Malik waves. I lift my hand to wave back, but Wesley does not. And when Malik walks over to us I stand while Wesley keeps seated. Jackass.
“Ms. Brooks. Mr. Collier. Funny running into you here.” Malik has a tight smile but doesn’t look even a little bit amused.
“I’d say it’s more surprising to find you here, Mr. Dare.” Wesley arches a brow and crosses his arms over his chest, eyeing Malik suspiciously.
Malik barely flinches at his judgement and replies, “I’m supposed to meet my brother here for a ride.” He points to a black motorcycle parked at the curb.
The sunlight shines making it look like it sparkles. “I didn’t know you ride a motorcycle.”
Did I? Maybe somewhere along the way I heard that, but I guess I can only see him as a teacher and not the kind of man that rides a dangerous motorcycle.
“Next to teaching, it’s my favorite thing in the world.” When he speaks, he looks light and carefree and like all of his happiness sits parked on the street.
“I used to have a bike before I had a family and responsibilities. Once Mason came along, it was time to grow up and be a man. No more playing with toys.” Wesley hmpfs at Malik, but I don’t think he even bothers to listen to him.
“I know plenty of men who have families and ride bikes or race cars or climb rocks. It’s important to have a passion. Without it, you’re just another body walking the earth.”
Wesley’s jaw works side to side and my eyes ping pong between the two men. They’re like fire and ice. Malik has a fire that burns for the things he loves, and Wesley looks like he’s only ever known cold and dankness.
I open my mouth to say something, but a piercing wail shatters the peaceful afternoon. When we look over to the playground, we see Mason sprawled out on the wood chips holding his arm and Dahlia kneeling down, patting his shoulder.
“Mase!” Wesley shouts and takes off running.
I move as if I’m going to follow, but Malik grabs my arms and holds me in place.
“What are you doing here with him?” His tone is something I’ve never heard before.
It’s accusatory and almost angry.
“The question is, what are you doing here? Why would you be at this park out of all of the ones in Cattywump?”
He steps back like I’ve slapped him and now I feel awful for even thinking something like that.
“I’m supposed to meet Henny here so we can ride. Imagine my surprise when I saw you here, cozied up with that asshole. I thought you had plans?” I swallow down my guilt for assuming.
“He called me this morning to meet after school. I’ve run out of reasons why I’m always so busy when he asks. I figured we’d meet, the kids would play and hate it, and that would be the end of it.”
My words that I thought would put him at ease seem to only make him more tense. I can hear his jaw clicking with tension and his fists are balled up.
“Are you…are you angry?” I’m shocked by the change I see from his every day nice guy Mr. Dare, to this man who looks ready to fight.
“I just don’t understand why you’re here with him . He’s a creep. You know he only wants one thing from you.”
My face contorts, not recognizing the man in front of me. “Why are you acting like this?”
His breathing is heavy as he inhales and exhales. “I’m just worried. Wesley doesn’t have any good intentions. It’s written all over his face. I don’t want you and Dahlia to get mixed up with him. That’s all.”
I search his face, looking at the mix of emotions that swirl over it, trying to figure out the mystery that is still Malik Dare. I don’t know if this is coming from a genuine place of concern, or if something else lies beneath the surface.
“I’m sorry. I guess I’m a little on edge because I put myself out there with you, and I’m still standing here with my arms open, waiting for you to accept them.”
I’m so torn right now. Yes, I’ve thought endlessly about Malik. Even when I’m talking with King and thinking about him, it’s always Malik. That simple fact tells me that I most definitely do want to explore a relationship with him. But his behavior really has me questioning that.
I mean, I don’t know him all that well. Yet I feel like I do. Dahlia trusts him completely and kids are the best judge of character, right?
“Malik, I–”
“All good.” Wesley comes walking up right at the moment and I wish to god he would just go away. “Dahlia challenged him to a jump off and I guess he caught a little too much air.”
Wesley comes to stand so close to me that I can feel the heat coming off his body.
“I better go. You two enjoy the reset of your afternoon,” Malik says abruptly then turns to leave.
I struggle with asking him to stay, so instead I say, “I thought you were meeting your brother?”
He stops and looks over his shoulder, a hurt look on his face. “Yeah, I don’t feel much like riding anymore. Say goodbye to the kids for me.”
I watch him walk away, unsure if I should chase after him or let him go. With Wesley standing right next to me, I swallow the wait that longs to escape and pretend that him jumping on his bike and speeding off doesn’t affect me. But inside, it hurts so bad.