2. Sunday Birgitta Monroe
Sunday Birgitta Monroe
“ Y ou’re the only one I know who still reads the Sunday papers. I’m surprised that they even still sell those shits in stores.”
I shoved the newspaper aside. Before I responded, I took a moment to do what I always did—study Cedar, unbeknownst to him. We were roommates who had grown into friends, but that didn’t mean that I wasn’t attracted to him.
His dark, bad-boy looks caused many women to stumble in their steps or take a second look. Rich, unlined mocha skin hinted at good genetics and an excellent skincare routine. A broad nose, full heart-shaped lips, and prominent, angular cheekbones spoke to his African ancestry.
Although Cedar worked as a general contractor now, he was a construction worker during his college years. He didn’t do as much physical labor anymore. However, he maintained the muscular definition of his broad shoulders, flat abs, and tatted arms, chest, and legs with a rigorous workout routine.
Cedar kept a fresh line-up, no matter how busy he got, and his full mustache and long, bushy beard were always well-groomed. He turned those sloe-shaped, chestnut-brown eyes my way.
“You know you can get that same information online, right?” he asked in a teasing voice before he broke out in a snicker.
“I grew up reading them every Sunday with my daddy. It’s our thing.”
“Is that why you and he spend an hour on the phone every Sunday afternoon when he gets home from church?” Cedar asked from his spot at the stove where he was flipping pancakes.
“Yep. We talk about what was in the paper.”
Cedar’s phone rang, dragging his attention away from our conversation.
I set the newspaper aside and headed upstairs into my room and grabbed a book.
When I returned to the kitchen where Cedar was cooking our usual Sunday brunch, I sat in the kitchen’s bay window and pulled my knees up to my chest. I opened my book and read a chapter before I set it aside.
Leaning my head back against the window, I peered to the side and scrunched up my nose. It was overcast again, but there was no rain in sight.
I loved rainy days as much as I loved sunny ones. What I didn’t care for was overcast days. They felt like a tease to me or an unfulfilled promise. You waited for something to manifest and then became disappointed when it didn’t, much like the lingering elephant in the room between Cedar and me.
I picked my book up again and started reading it. I got three pages in before I set it aside once more and stared out the window. I did that three times as I contemplated what I really wanted, which was a conversation.
I always wanted to tell the clouds, “Either shit or get off the pot already.” If it was going to be sunny, then I wanted to be out and about.
If it were going to rain, then I wanted to cuddle up with a good book, color in my adult coloring book, or sleep the day away.
As it were, it seemed I was in a period of limbo on overcast days, waiting for something to shake.
“What’s on your mind, Sunny?” Cedar asked, pulling me from my thoughts.
“What makes you think there is?” I never turned my gaze from the window.
“The fact that you’re twirling your hair on your finger. The fact that you’ve picked up that book no less than three times to read it and then put it back down again.”
“You think you know me.”
I hopped off the window seat and walked to where he plated our food. I washed and dried my hands at the sink.
“I do know you.”
“Not so much.”
“Okay. Since I don’t know you, tell me what you were thinking about.”
I giggled and shook my head.
“Nope, Mr. Jackson. You’re not slick.”
“Nobody said I was.”
He gazed at me over his shoulder, and I grew heated from the heavy-lidded gaze that lingered on me a second too long.
I took the glasses he’d pulled from the cabinets and set them on the table in the breakfast nook. I returned and grabbed a carafe of orange juice and took them to the table.
Cedar was right behind me with our plates before he returned to grab the bowl of fruit that he had set to the side.
My stomach growled loudly at the sight of the pancakes, bacon, sausage, omelets, hashbrowns, cheese grits, and biscuits.
Sunday brunches were a routine that we started the second Sunday after we started living together.
Every Sunday, Cedar would cook a big brunch.
He was great at breakfast foods, and I usually cooked our dinners three nights out of the week, Monday through Wednesday.
Thursdays through Saturdays, we were on our own, and most Sundays, he would cook dinner as well, or we would eat with our individual friends.
“This smells so good.”
“Aht.” Cedar smacked my hand when I picked up the fork to eat. He frowned at me, and I set the fork back down.
Cedar was big on prayer, faith, and spirituality.
Not that I wasn’t, but he was a stickler for certain things, like praying over the meal.
He grew up in a faith-based household where they went to church every Sunday, Bible study during the middle of the week, and vacation Bible school during the summer when he was a kid.
My family was more relaxed. We believed in God and that Jesus Christ died for our sins, but we weren’t members of a church. We believed in doing good for others and letting our love for God be represented through our actions.
Cedar reached across the table and grabbed my hands. Warmth spread throughout every part of my body. His gaze held mine, and something dangerous flickered in his eyes before he licked his lips and then closed his eyes.
“Father, thank You for this amazing meal that you have set before us. Thank You for the company with which I can enjoy it. May it nourish us not only physically but spiritually as well. Amen.”
“Amen.”
I quickly snatched my hand away, grabbed my fork, and stabbed my pancake before shoveling it into my mouth. I moaned as I chewed the sweet, flaky, but fluffy concoction. Cedar always added vanilla, cinnamon, nutmeg, and one other ingredient he refused to share with me to his pancakes.
“Now tell me what’s on your mind.”
Shit. I thought I’d gotten out of that little trap. I squirmed in my seat and grabbed a strip of bacon. Folding it in half, I shoved it in my mouth and chewed.
“You act like your li’l ass ain’t ate in a month of Sundays, but I know that’s not true. I saw you wolf that chicken and pineapple pizza down last night.”
I chuckled and grabbed another strip of bacon, but he grabbed my wrist and stared at me. My body grew warm and flush at his touch, but when I looked up and saw him staring into my eyes, my inner thighs squeezed together.
“What?”
“Tell me what’s on your mind. Don’t say it’s not anything either, Sunny. You can tell me anything.”
I sighed and set the bacon down. I grabbed my spoon and scooped up some cheese grits.
“You,” I mumbled before shoving them in my mouth too.
“What about me?”
I waited until after he chewed his pancakes so that I didn’t cause him to choke or anything. My eyes dropped to his full, heart-shaped lips, and a tingle spread all over my body as I recalled what they felt like.
“The kiss we shared at Tiff’s wedding. We need to talk about it.”
Cedar grabbed the carafe of juice and poured him some.
“What about it?”
His tone was gruff, and he wouldn’t make eye contact anymore.
“I mean, I know that it was for the sake of your family and the deejay basically calling us out?—”
“He called everyone out.”
“Right, but people were already out on the floor doing what they were going to do, including Taylor and Monica.”
At the mention of his ex-wife’s name and her girlfriend, thunder clouds rolled across Cedar’s dark, handsome face. Those deep-set, chestnut brown eyes narrowed even tighter than they were, and his broad nostrils flared wider than before.
“Listen, I’m sorry. I know that I asked you to act like my girl that day, and I shouldn’t have dragged you into that shit.
I should have stood my ground with my mama and my aunts like I always do, refusing to allow them to set me up with anyone.
I should have been more courageous in facing Taylor. You didn’t deserve that.”
He genuinely looked remorseful, and it caused me to pause for a minute, but I plowed ahead. I reached out and touched his hand. I made tiny circles with my thumb on the back of it and stared at the veins and tattoos on his large hand.
“It wasn’t about whether I deserved it or not, Cedar. You did nothing wrong. In fact, I liked it.”
Cedar scratched the back of his neck before he resumed eating.
“Honestly, I thought you liked it too. Just the way that you reacted to me, the look in your eyes, the way your body . . .” I broke off, not wanting to mention that I noticed his erection when he kissed me.
“It was a kiss, Sunny. Don’t make it into more.”
“I know what it was.”
Frustration and impatience filled me because he was being so damn nonchalant and stubborn. I knew that he knew what the hell I was talking about.
“What are you getting at, Sunny? It was a kiss. It happened for the benefit of my family, and it was over with just like that. It hasn’t happened again.”
“Yeah, but . . . I kind of wanted it too. And I think you did too. Like, when we kissed, it didn’t feel like two friends acting. It felt like more. I know that you felt it too, Cedar.”
He sighed and pushed his chair back. I watched as he grabbed his mostly full plate and took it to the trash.
I jumped up and followed him. “Why are you throwing that food away?”
“Not hungry.”
“Why? Because I mentioned the kiss?”
He sighed and turned to face me full-on. “What is it that you want from me, Sunny?”
“I thought . . . maybe we could explore that feeling that we felt. Maybe we could talk about it. I mean, what it meant, you know?”
“It meant nothing.”
“Are you sure? Or are you scared?”
“Of what?”
“Feeling something for anyone other than Taylor.”
He sighed and smoothed his hand over his low-cut fade.
“Sunny, don’t do this. I’m not good enough for you. Whatever it is that you’re looking for, I’m not the man to give it to you.”
“How do you know if you don’t even try? How can you say that you can’t give me what you don’t even know I need if you won’t have the conversation?”
“This is what I know. Taylor and I didn’t just break up because we grew apart, like I told you when you asked me that.
Taylor cheated on me with Monica. I suspected she’d been cheating for a while, but I thought it was with another nigga.
She didn’t even have the decency to come to me and talk about it.
I started going through her phone to figure out why my wife didn’t want to have sex anymore.
“Imagine my surprise when I found messages between her and her best friend, Monica, about Taylor divorcing me. I confronted her with that shit, and you know what she told me? The reason she didn’t want sex with me anymore was because dicks just didn’t do it for her.
She said that she wanted to find herself and that she wasn’t happy.
Then she blamed me for being the one to fuck up our marriage.
She said if I hadn’t been snooping through her phone, then I wouldn’t have been hurt.
So, I guess I was just supposed to be a fool and stay in the marriage clueless. ”
“I’m so sorry, Cedar. I didn’t know. You’re a good man and deserve a lot better than that.”
He scoffed and shook his head.
“Nah. I’m good on that, baby girl. I don’t believe in women.”
“Don’t you ever want a family or kids?”
“I do.”
“Then how are you going to do that unless you move on and find the woman who’s right for you?”
“Guess it just ain’t in the cards for me, Sunny.”
“That’s not true. You need to heal. There’s a good woman out there for you.”
“Nah. Can’t trust ’em, and I’m not trying to get involved like that again.
Women are good for two things: fucking and making babies.
All that emotional and relationship shit, I don’t believe in it.
I ain’t tryna complicate your life or mine beyond what we are, .
. . friends and roomies. So, yeah, that kiss was just a kiss. ”
My heart broke for him as I watched Cedar storm out of the kitchen and to his bedroom. He slammed the door, locking me out of his head, his heart, and his life, . . . for the moment.
I felt a tiny pinch in my chest and a tightening in my stomach. I knew that it was heartache because the man I wanted didn’t want me back. There was no chance for us, despite the fact that the kiss had opened up a well of feelings inside of me that I didn’t even realize I held for Cedar.