Chapter 8
EIGHT
Dim lights and soft sounds coming from overhead speakers lured me into the room filled with reclining theater seats. The oversized screen spanned from one wall to the next. And, in front of it, with his hands folded in front of him, was the man of the hour.
The man who’d sent my body into shock just hours prior.
The man who’d extended the time I spent talking to my sister this evening.
The man who was almost too fine for God’s green earth.
The man who frequently hit balls out of the park.
The man who could knock my insides outside of my body if he desired.
The man who was slowly breaking me down each day by just being around.
Being himself.
Being kind.
Being thoughtful.
Being persistent.
“Good evening, Kit,” he greeted me with a smile.
Healthy obsessions were pleasant in anyone’s world, but becoming Fohr’s right before my eyes was almost too much for my heart to handle. It was the epitome of pleasantries.
I sensed it in the way he stared at me for minutes at a time. Stolen glances weren’t a thing in his world. He was open and honest about his desire to have me in his line of vision.
I sensed it in the way he watched my mouth, waiting for me to say something. Say anything. I sensed it in each breath he took in my presence. I sensed it every time he closed his eyes and tried collecting his thoughts because I likely consumed them or confused him.
Little did he know, it was all mutual. Maybe he sensed it just as I did.
Maybe he knew I’d secretly claimed him as my own because somehow, someway, I knew he’d be in my life long after our mayor stood at the podium and set us free from our homes.
I didn’t want to be freed. Not from him. Not yet, at least.
“Good evening, Fohr.”
“You going to come down or are you choosing the highest point in the house?”
I’m trying to maintain my dignity, I thought.
He was splendid in the black button down, black denim, gold chains, and perfect smile. Veins protruding from his arms, neck, and hands were the perfect accessories. They triggered the heartbeat between my legs. I, involuntarily, began Kegel exercises to lessen the pain of the pounding.
“It’s always the best seat in the theater.”
“I won’t disagree with you.”
“Join me,” I challenged.
“I was already on my way,” Fohr replied with a smile.
He stirred every fluid inside of me. I caved long before he reached me.
God, this man…
Is a work– of art.
The platter he held in front of me creased the corners of my lips. I peered at him under hooded eyes that displayed my hesitancy.
“You made this?”
“I did, and I’ve already chosen a movie so you don’t have to spend the rest of the night deciding.”
I paused, completely lost in his rounds. Though his mouth was moving and I understood each word that came from it, I was still struggling to get over his attempt at a decent meal for dinner.
“The chicken– you cooked it?”
He nodded proudly.
“In grease. You fried this chicken?”
I was impressed to say the least.
He shook his head. “Nah. The air fryer. My Moms said that’s about as best as I’m gon’ get on such short notice.”
“You called your mother?”
Shocked, I took the seat I was standing next to. Fohr took the seat beside me. He placed the platter between us.
“And told her I had a date, too. She helped me out a little. I’d already had it figured out for the most part. Just needed confirmation I was doing it the right way. I didn’t want you choking off uncooked meat,” he joked.
“I don’t eat meat, Fohr,” I replied.
“Which is why–” he paused, waving his hand over the rest of the options, “I made sure to get some things I knew you’d love on this platter. The chicken is for me, but I needed it to be perfect in the event you decided to bend your rules and take a bite.”
“Well, thank you, Fohr, but no thank you. I’ll have the veggie options and have some popcorn,” I explained.
“I figured.”
Carrots, celery, buttered popcorn, fries, and two peanut butter sandwiches circled the oversized plate. Though random, I had the urge to have a little of everything except the fries that I wanted Fohr to have with his chicken wings and ranch dressing.
Fohr slid from his chair and kneeled in front of mine. I observed, anticipating every move he made. Anxiousness grew in my belly as he looked up at me with his pearly white teeth on full display. He removed the dark brown platform mules from my feet and sat them beside me.
The dress I wore that matched my shoes in color rose slightly as he pressed the button on the chair to recline it. A thick gray blanket followed. His eyes never left mine as he leaned forward, palms pressed against my seat, and stared lovingly into my eyes.
Words were at the tip of his tongue. I could feel them as much as I could feel him knocking at my heart’s door, requesting access.
“Are you comfortable, Kit?”
“Yes,” I confessed. “I am.”
Avoiding my fate was no longer an option of mine.
I was ready to face it head on. I was ready to face him head on.
The newly acquired information removed the shackles that kept me bound and out of Fohr’s way.
Now that I knew the truth about his breakup and the lifetime supply of condoms in the secondary master suite, things were different. I was different. And, he was different.
“Suddenly.” He chuckled. “It's not the movie I want to watch, sweet baby. It’s you.”
He bowed his head as his cheeks peaked and his skin turned a shade I’d never seen before.
I slid forward in the chair, cupped his chin in my palm, and placed my eyes on his.
It was my turn to watch him unravel. I waited patiently as he burst from the seams. When I felt like he’d had enough, I finally spoke.
“Then, it looks like you should’ve chosen dinner, Fohr.”
“I’m no good in the kitchen, Kit.”
“I’ll teach you.”
“Good, because I was planning to ask or pay somebody to d–”
“Don’t worry. You’ll learn, Fohr.”
“I’m looking forward to it.”
He stood up and made his way back to his seat. Just as his butt hit the fabric, I continued.
“Why is it that you don’t know how to cook anyway?”
“My mother was a stay-at-home mom my entire life. The kitchen was her happy place. She barred us from the stove, and my father kept me in the field, strengthening my arm, perfecting my form, quickening my throw, and criticizing my batting abilities.”
“His criticism paid off.”
“Which is why I will be paying him back for the rest of my life. Without him, there would not be a Fohr McClarren.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes.”
“I feel the same about my father. He’s a wonder in my world as well. Monumental.”
He placed a hand on his chest. “I wasn’t wrong.” He chuckled. “I wasn’t wrong.”
“About what?”
“Your father’s influence in your life.”
“How’d you know he was in my life?” I asked, curious.
“There’s a certain aura about a woman who is loved and adored by her father. You have it. And, it somehow speaks volumes before you open your mouth. It tells me that you won’t accept anything less than he’s already given you.
“It elevated your standards and set your boundaries prematurely. The way you walk– the way you talk– the way you carry yourself– it tells me to come correct or not at all and I fully believe much of that is dedicated to your father’s ascendancy in your life.”
“Maybe,” I breathed out, “Maybe you’re right, Fohr.”
“I am, Kit. How many sisters?”
“How do you know I have sisters?”
“Because you do.”
“How’d I give that one away?”
“You come to dinner in a full face of makeup and fully dressed as if you’re headed to a five-star restaurant. There isn’t a strand out of place on your head. Never. You smell divine every time you’re near me. And, you woman well.”
“I woman well?”
My partial understanding of his concept left me curious of his explanation. I had an idea but wasn’t certain if it was the right idea.
“Yes. We’re human and much like sponges. We learn from other humans who we wish to adapt characteristics of. You have sisters and a mother who was likely all the things you wanted to be as a woman.”
“Your father should’ve purchased you a couch and a crystal ball instead of a bat and glove.” I chuckled.
“I’ve studied you for a full week, Kit. And, study is my way of putting it mildly. I’ve gone through the details a hundred times in my head. This information didn’t come to me instantly. I’ve gathered it over the last week. Am I correct?”
“Yes,” I admitted, twirling my finger in a single spiral.
“All girls.”
“Your father is a lucky man. Daughters.”
Fohr finally sat back in his seat.
“Is it daughters you want in the future?”
The question spilled from my lips before I had a chance to stop them.
“If it’s daughters you’ll give me,” he commented, silencing me at once.
With furrowed brows and a heart engulfed in flames, I stared back at him. He didn’t bat an eye.
My God. Where has this man been my entire life?
I was sure God was tired of me calling on him, but with Fohr in front of me promising to fill my womb with the daughters I always dreamt of carrying to term was overwhelming.
It wasn’t until I tore away from him that I was able to breathe again.
“Don’t shy away from your duties, Kit. That’s all I’ll ever ask of you, quite honestly. I can handle the rest. I can’t carry or birth a child, though. That’s a job reserved for women.”
“You’re so sure of your future. It’s frightening and invigorating at once.”
“I’m sure of you–” he paused, taking the remote into his hand. “And don’t be frightened by anything I tell you, Kit, because it’s the closest to the truth you’ll ever hear. From anyone. About anything.”
Silence followed his declaration. I melted into the chair, uninterested in the food I’d told him I’d consume. He’d given me enough to gnaw on for the rest of the night.
Woodsy notes climbed up my nostrils, warming my entire frame.
Fohr.
He surrounded me. His large hands pressed me against his chest. Instinctively, my wrists were curled around his neck. Slow, forward movement stirred me awake.
Sometime after Slyvia’s Love, at the peak of uncontrollable laughter due to Fohr’s humor, and mid-way through Really Love, I promised to close my eyes for a split second. Seconds turned into minutes. And, I found myself being lowered into an unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar room.
Sensing my hesitation, Fohr pierced me with his gaze. He waited for me to adjust to the new terrain. When my elbows imprinted the bed, his breath hiked in his chest.
“Sweet baby, you need rest. If my room is a problem, please tell me now. I can take you bac–”
I shook my head. “No. No. It’s fine.”
His room. I yawned. The restricted part of his home was as beautiful as the rest. I made a mental note to explore in the morning. For now, I wanted that rest he spoke of. His mattress was the closest I’d come to a cloud until my time on earth ended. I was convinced.
“You know, Kit–” he began as he unbuttoned his top, “I’ve slept alone for the past year and a half and fought the urge to beg you to be in my bed the seven days you’ve been in my home.
“And, not for sex, but for comfort because while my presence has brought you discomfort from the start, yours has made me the most comfortable I’ve ever been in my life.
It settles the war raging in my head and reminds me that my heart exists after being squished.
I wondered why that thing between me and my ex didn’t work out.
“But, the moment I saw you, it made sense. It couldn’t work out. It wouldn’t work out. Because, I was meant to meet you. See you. Crave you. Pursue you. Win you. Claim you. And give you everything your heart desires.
“No one is deserving of what I have to offer at my big age but a woman of your caliber. A woman of your regard. A woman, Kit. And, you… to be more specific. It didn’t take me seven days to figure that shit out.
I knew when you opened the door. The peace that washed over me–” He kissed the skin of his teeth.
“Shit was unreal. As if you were designed for me. Made for me. And, not on a delusional account or a love at first sight type of situation. But, a– Yeah. She’s the one I want. She’s exactly what I need.”
The feeling was mutual. I felt it in my spirit.
“Ya know?”
I nodded. “I do. Which is why I ended up at your door hours later.”
“I am so happy you did.”
“My heart wouldn’t allow me to stay home. It made its stance abundantly clear the second you walked out of my home. I forced myself not to call you back in and tell you to wait until I was packed and ready to go.”
“It wouldn’t have been my last visit, Kit. I knew that, too. Whether you came to my home or not.”
A smile forced my eyes closed as another yawn left my mouth. I was battling exhaustion that had crept up on me and the urge to continue the conversation between Fohr and I. His ability to express himself was impressive.
He was in tune with his feelings and not afraid to share them. It was something to be cherished after years of dating men who found it difficult to openly admit something as simple as developing feelings for a woman he actively pursued.
“Sleep,” Fohr reminded me.
I patted the empty space beside me. “Get in.”
Obliging, Fohr climbed in bed once he was down to his briefs. I heard his pants hit the floor and chose to keep my eyes closed until he was under the cover he pulled over my body upon entry.
I wasn’t sleepy anymore. He fueled me with those piercing eyes of his. He obliterated the space between us. Soon, we were nose to nose.
I closed my eyes, taking him in. He was divine. God had done an incredible job with Fohr. His heart was pure. His actions were genuine. His intentions were good. His feelings were on his sleeves.
My vulnerability peaked at the possibilities that his presence presented.
Loneliness had been my best form of protection since my last breakup.
Now that my security blanket had been pulled from under me, my comfort level had adjusted, and I’d been cracked open like a bank safe during a mid-day heist.
A sigh tumbled out of my mouth along with words. My lips grazed Fohr’s as I spoke.
“What are your plans with me?” I inquired. “I need to know. So does my heart.”
“To convince you that undying love exists.”
His simple response settled my soul.
“And, once you’ve convinced me–”
“I’ll spend each day reminding you.”
“Seven days–”
“Seven seconds was all it took, Kit. Not for me to fall madly in love with you, sweet baby, but for me to know I want to. Someday. And, I’d rather it be sooner than later now that I have had the pleasure of spending seven days with you.”
He spilled his truth, coaxing the anxiety that was threatening to ruin the moment. His moment.