4. Sunday #2
Cedar dragged his hand down his face. “Or, you figure out that they’re not worth your time, but you do wanna get with them, so you fuck on the first date and then fuck around and find out that they ain’t your one.”
I rolled my eyes and pushed play on the TV remote. Cedar grabbed the remote and paused it again.
“So you’re telling me that you’d go on a TV show like this and find a date by snatching their flowers?”
“No. Every woman will have a single rose. If you’re not interested in her, you take her rose.
You continue collecting the roses until you find the one woman you are interested in.
You will hand her the bouquet at the end.
If she’s not interested in you, then she can give you the roses back, hand them to someone else, throw them on the floor, or whatever floats her boat. ”
“Yeah, but would you do it?”
“Well, no, but that’s because that’s not my flow.”
“Why not? Because it’s corny as hell, right?” I shrugged and then giggled when he shoved my shoulder. “Your ass knows I’m right.”
“Not really. I’m just not trying to have my business all on TV like that.”
“But you’ll look at someone else making a fool out of themselves.”
“It’s entertaining, Cedar. Shut up and watch the show.”
He un-paused it, and we resumed watching “Give Her, Her Flowers.”
He made little snide comments throughout the rest of the show.
I leaned against his shoulder like I always did when we watched TV.
I felt Cedar tense up for a minute, but I refused to move.
If he wanted us to be the way we always had been, then that was what he was going to get.
I refused to move away from him, and I refused to let the uncomfortable barrier that having sex with him had created for us.
Cedar finally sighed and wrapped his arm around me. He dropped a kiss on my forehead and muttered, “I’m sorry, shawty. I wish I could be that man you deserve.”
“Where’s that coming from?” I asked through a yawn.
“Our conversation earlier today. I want you to be happy, you know that, right?”
“I do. But now I feel like a crackhead.”
“Is that right?”
“Yeah.”
“Why’s that?”
“You’ve got me feenin’ for the dick, Cedar. I won’t lie.”
He chuckled. “Baby girl, you stretching a nigga’s jeans.”
“Well, it’s not my fault. Every time I’m around you, my nipples get hard.”
His hand lightly brushed against my top on the side of my breast.
“Stop before you get some shit started,” he growled.
“I mean, I’m trying to.” I wore a flirtatious smirk on my lips as I winked at him.
“Watch TV, shawty.”
Cedar started working for our company, JD Peale Construction Group, eight years ago, and I was hired as an intern four years ago during my senior year of college.
The company built several commercial and residential properties.
They had brownstones and townhomes, and they kept several available units in each for their staff.
We could purchase or rent units at a discounted rate. Cedar and I rented our unit. I met Cedar, who was an instructor for my orientation group at Peale, during my senior year.
One of the company benefits was residential discounts and housemate pairing.
The program ran in-depth background checks on potential roommates, including past residences and credit checks.
I signed up for the program after graduation and was paired with someone within three weeks, but we didn’t get along very well, and she returned home to Wisconsin without notice.
I was in over my head with bills, so I put in a request for a new roommate.
For two months, I was on my own. Just when I feared I would have to return home with my parents, the housing coordinator manager informed me that she had one option.
She was unsure how I would feel about it since it was a male, and he was six years older than me.
I was hesitant until she told me who it was.
Most people thought it might be odd to pair the two of us, but I had become comfortable with Cedar, and I trusted him.
Fresh off a divorce, he was starting a new chapter of his life.
I jumped on the opportunity because I knew I would feel safer than living alone, and I would be able to afford to stay out on my own.
That was just under two years ago. My salary had increased since, and I could afford to live on my own, but I loved living with Cedar. I lived for nights like this.
“What’s on your mind, kid?”
I sat up and mushed him in the side of the head.
“I told you that I’m not a kid.”
“Whatever,” he replied and sucked his teeth.
“You ever thought about therapy?”
“For?”
“The divorce. Healing. You have unrealized dreams in your heart, and it’s not okay for her to have stolen them from you.”
Cedar shrugged. “I’ll be a’ight in time.”
“Maybe, maybe you won’t. If you keep those feelings locked inside, it will be harder to open up. You should give yourself, your future wife, and your future kids a shot, Cedar.”
“I might consider it, Dr. Monroe.”
“Shut up.”
“What about you? You’re the one who seemed like you’re most ready to settle down.”
He tugged on one of my curls, and I noticed his eyes dipped down to my lips. Instead of remarking on that, I answered his question.
“Considering the man of my dreams doesn’t want me, I think I’ll die an old maid,” I replied dramatically.
“Get outta here. Your future husband is out there waiting for you to date again,” he commented and chuckled.
“Nope. I think I’ll just sit on this couch and wait for my dream husband to get healed so he can be whole for me.”
I winked at him. Cedar smirked and then turned up the volume on the TV again.