Chapter 6 #2
“Thank you for being the kinder one of the two of us,” I say before I clear my throat. I need to cut out all the awkwardness. We’re adults. This is fine.
“See,” he starts, setting my food on my coffee table, “I’m not convinced I’ve gotten the real you yet.”
“Oh?”
He shakes his head, meeting my gaze head on, that fucking grin on his face. “Something tells me you deserve another chance,” he murmurs.
The audacity.
The big dick energy.
I laugh as I walk farther into my place, reaching for my food—anything to keep from kissing him. As he appraises me, I pull cartons from the bag, way more than what I ordered, and then grab one of the plastic forks sitting at the bottom.
He stands there, watching as I dig in. I moan around the first bite of flan because, seriously, what the fuck? “You like?”
I’m working the custard around my mouth, savoring the rich flavor as I glance up at him.
He’s standing in the center of my living room, staring at me with eyes that refuse to blink, a smile that refuses to waver, and hands with thick fingers that look like they’d feel amazing palming my ass. Or rubbing my cl?—
Pregnancy definitely puts the “ho” in “hormones.”
I swallow my mouthful and lick my lips, hoping there’s no remnants on my face as I stare at Quintin in my space, surrounded by my things, where I feel most comfortable in the whole world.
He’s looked good every time I’ve seen him, but he looks even better here.
“I like your apartment,” he offers, still not taking his eyes off mine.
“I like yours,” I tell him, basking in his stare.
You could kiss him. You could kiss him right now and see if he tastes as good as good as this delicious-ass flan.
What white boy makes flan this delicious?
Half white , I remind myself.
“There are some pumpkin spice muffins in there I’m trying out,” he murmurs, and I tilt my head a moment until realization dawns. “Now you’ve got your pumpkin, Cinderella.”
I grin and stare at him, wondering what his end game is.
He clears his throat, and I lick my lips again before staring down at the container of flan in my hand.
“I put a little extra in there too. Let me know what you think?”
I nod, not looking up as I try to reel myself in.
Kissing him would not be a good idea.
He’s my neighbor.
And you don’t fuck where you sleep, or…something like that.
I’m also currently pregnant with another man’s child.
But why is he here, being so nice to me?
And how do I ask him without seeming like a bitch?
All I know is, the moment he leaves this apartment, I’ll be back to wallowing. Alone. Wondering what the hell I’m going to do. Honestly, anything sounds better than the echo of my thoughts as the bundle of cells inside me inevitably grows, the speck of life upending my own.
I know I love how I feel in this man’s presence.
Without thought, I say the first thing that comes to mind.
“Are you free tomorrow?”
“I don’t mean to exaggerate, but I’d drink her bathwater.”
A pair of green eyes slowly make their way to my face, and I shrug under the scrutiny. Honesty doesn’t make me uncomfortable, and neither does being judged by one of the best dessert slingers in this city. How was I the lucky one to get her to work for me?
Skinned knees and a waterslide in her backyard; decades have come and gone, and we’ve remained friends as they passed.
“You didn’t see the way she licked her lips after tasting my flan.” Even to my own ears, I sound like a jackass, but I can’t find it in me to care—not with someone I’ve always been as open with as I am now.
“Are you okay?” Pepper pauses her work as the question passes her lips. She’s supposed to be giving me a lesson on the ins and outs of cake decorating but, as usual, we end up focusing on other shit.
She asked for an update on the situation, and that was the only answer I could muster.
“Am I not allowed to express interest in a woman?” I rub the back of my head. “Have I been single that long?”
She shrugs one shoulder, focusing on the cake in front of her, piping bag in hand and bent at the waist. I can only imagine what it’s like to love something so much that every tiny detail is important to you.
Then I look around my restaurant. Years of dedication have ushered me into this moment, where my past doesn’t dictate my future. Where I own something, and I’m more than a statistic.
“It’s been a while, but…you’ve been busy,” Pepper offers, tilting her head toward the dining area. She watched me mull over paint colors, furniture, and the menu. And when she found out I was sleeping here, she threatened to quit unless I made myself a home somewhere else.
I’m grateful for the way she reminds me of what my life has been like: hectic. I’ve always been able to look at the horizon and find my ambitions there, but it feels like I’m finally catching up with the sunset, and when I look around, I’m alone.
I don’t want to be alone in a way that becomes too painful to exist in.
“It’s nothing like riding a bike,” I announce, shaking off my somber thoughts and peering over her shoulder to watch the master at work. “In case you were curious.”
I always thought one day, maybe in a few years, I’d cut the shit and find a woman to dedicate myself to. But the way Daniela tries so hard to fend me off makes me nervous that maybe it won’t be that easy. Maybe dating is different now.
Not that we’re dating.
We’re simply…dancing around what I hope is a mutual attraction.
“Women are easy,” Pepper starts, moving on to decorate the next cake. She gestures toward the walk-in, and I place the freshly-decorated cake into a box. “Just give us whatever we want.” Her words are so matter-of-fact, I bark out a laugh. Only she would say that.
“Women aren’t easy. If that were the case, I’d know whether she hates me or not,” I call out as I place the boxed cake in the walk-in before heading back out to watch her at work.
“I doubt she hates you,” Pepper muses, the right side of her mouth quirking up the way it does when she’s trying not to laugh at me. “But this is good. You could do with a slice of humble pie.”
“Dessert jokes from my dessert chef,” I announce, pressing my hip into the table to catch her smile.
“I like the sound of her,” she announces as she straightens, setting the piping bag down and raising her arms to stretch. “I like that she makes you sweat.”
“ Am I sweating?” I ask, grinning as I untie my apron before tossing it in her face.
“Quin—” Pepper starts, yanking it away with annoyance.
“That’s for knocking on her door,” I call out as I turn to jog to my office. I snatch my coat and backpack from the hook on the back of the door. As I’m pulling my things on, Pepper rounds the corner, her phone in her hand.
“Don’t forget to order those?—”
“Those eggs you wanted to try from that local farmer,” I finish as I scoot past her. “Don’t forget, I still want to learn?—”
“Cake decorating. Impossible, but yeah, sure,” she mutters as she walks away, her black hair swaying around her shoulders.
No one would ever call her a ray of sunshine, but she’s still got a heart of gold.