Chapter 9
Livia
I’m not surprised I haven’t heard from Khenji since we had dinner at my place. In fact, it’s been almost two weeks since I last saw him. It follows his normal pattern of claiming he wants to see me and then disappearing for weeks at a time. It makes me wonder if I’m just one of many women, because who is he with when he’s not with me? Who else does he send for? Or buy thousand-dollar jewelry for, and take to fancy restaurants that only one-percenters can afford? Paying thirty dollars for one baguette. Condiments served in little glass bowls…
I tried to call him the day after he left my apartment abruptly, but he didn’t answer. He doesn’t even have his voicemail set up, so I couldn’t leave one. And this is all after I thought we were having a pretty good time. I took my time preparing a delicious meal for him, only for him to run out of my apartment like Joseph did in the Bible when ol’ girl tried to seduce him. I wasn’t even trying to seduce Khenji. I’m not a seductress. Far from it. I just wanted to get to know him, but every time I try, he flakes out on me. What is the point of all of this? He is by far, the most peculiar man I’ve ever met. I believe that’s my main attraction to him – not his stellar good looks, but his odd demeanor, but now, it’s the thing that has me taking a step back. So, I didn’t attempt to contact him any further.
But he’s still heavily on my mind.
My cell rings. I open my desk drawer and remove it from my purse, hoping it’s him, but it’s not. It’s my sister.
I answer, “Hey, Hope. What’s up?”
“Nothing. You busy?”
“I’m at work, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“You’re about to get off, though, right?”
I glance at the clock. “I got another two hours. What’s up?”
“Okay, so mom—”
“Let me gone stop you right there,” I interrupted her to say.
“What?” she asks, laughing. “I didn’t even say anything yet.”
“You don’t have to. I already know what’s coming, and I’m not going.”
“How about you let me talk first?”
“Okay. Go ahead.”
“Okay, so Mom wants to have lunch tomorrow at that new spot that just opened on Zelzah Avenue.”
“Jeez,” I say. “You’re not talking about the place that serves alligator, are you?”
“Yep! That’s the one.”
I shake my head. I love my mother, but she has weird tastes in food. And she’s been on this rediscovering herself kick like she’s having some sort of after-mid-life crisis.
“Hope, please tell me you turned her down.”
“No, I did not, and why are you sounding like you don’t want to go? You don’t even know what the place is yet.”
“They serve alligator! That’s all I need to know. Plus, the last new up-and-coming hotspot she took us to had chicken feet for an appetizer. I told you I wasn’t trying her new spots anymore. If you want to live on the wild side, go right ahead and have yourself a gator-eating good time. Maybe you’ll get a side of them creepy eyeballs while you’re at it.”
“Ew. Okay. Stop.”
I lean back in my executive chair and laugh, then say, “Listen, girl, for real, though. I’ll pass on the snail butt and livermush-potted meat combo with a side of Saltines.”
“Whatever, Liv.”
I laugh harder. I tickled myself with that one.
Soda taps on the door and then invites herself inside, holding a dozen roses in a crystal vase. Based on how exquisite it looks, I already know who they’re from. And that’s probably a real crystal vase…
“Hey, Hope, let me call you right back.”
“Ugh. I wasn’t done talking.”
“I said, I’ll call you back, girl. Give me a few minutes.”
I end the call and set my phone down at the same time she lowers the flowers on my desk.
“Oooh…these are niiiice,” Soda says. By the way she’s blushing, you’d think they were for her.
I smile just barely because I know who they’re from and I don’t know what kind of game he’s playing with me at this point.
I say, “Yeah, they’re nice.”
“Must be from that tall glass of chocolate milk that came by here that one time. What’s his name again?”
“The tall glass of chocolate milk’s name is Khenji, Soda.”
She chuckles and says, “Go ‘head on, Ms. Boss Lady!”
I grin as she returns to her desk. When she closes my door, I pull the note:
For Livia without the ‘O’ - Khenji
That makes me smile. It’s what I said to him when we first met and he’s never forgotten it. I’m at a loss for everything that has happened between me and him since we shook hands that night. I’m not sure if we’ll go any further than this. It’s mind-boggling. It’s hard for me to put into words how odd of a predicament this is.
Moments later, as if he got a delivery confirmation, Khenji texts me.
Khenji: I hope you liked the flowers.
I don’t respond because I know it’s his way back in after leaving my house like his life was in danger. I’m like Fantasia at this point – he doesn’t have to talk to me. He can free himself.
A few minutes after the text, he calls me. I stare at his name on my display, trying to decide if I want to answer. My mind is telling me something’s not right with him. Like, maybe he’s been lying to me all along. That would explain a lot of his odd behavior.
I decide to let the call go to voicemail and call Hope back on speakerphone instead.
She answers, “Look at that—you called me back. It’s a freakin’ miracle.”
“Hush. I called you back because I got time today. Anyway, so, let me run something by you real quick while it’s on my mind because I’m seriously at a loss.”
“I’m all ears.”
I pull one rose from the vase and smell it while resting against the backrest of my chair. “Okay, so I met this guy—”
“Yes! Please date him! Please. I beg of you. For the love of—”
“Why are you like this?” I ask her, amused by her antics.
“What? I’m so tired of you being so picky,” she tells me.
“Lil’ ol’ me? Picky? I’m not picky! I just want something real.”
“Real like what?”
“You know…real. I want to be swept off of my feet, figuratively and literally. I want to feel like I’m the most important thing in his life. I want to be loved so hard and with such great intensity that it’s overwhelming and completely devastating to my senses—in a good way, of course. Isn’t that how you feel with Allen?”
“Um…”
“Hope!”
I’m shocked by her hesitancy to answer, but why am I not surprised? I’ve always felt like Hope married Allen because, not only was he a safe pick, but my parents played a major role in setting them up. Hope just ran with it like Allen was her last chance at love and marriage when she’s a beautiful, brilliant attorney who could’ve had her pick of any man she wanted.
She says, “Don’t get me wrong—I love Allen, but it’s not like next-level passion. I doubt if anyone’s marriage is like that. With us, it’s two people who love and respect each other, and there’s nothing wrong with that.”
“Are you trying to convince me of that or yourself?” I inquire.
She continues, “We’ve been married for five years now. That’s like ancient in married years.”
“No, it’s not.”
“Yes, it is. Many people don’t make it this far.”
“That’s true,” I say, agreeing with her statement. What I don’t agree with is the humdrum marriage theory. That’s not for me. I want to be able to look at my husband and feel my heart nearly jump out of my chest every single time I see him. I want to be in awe. I want something hypnotic – a relationship that’s so intensely passionate, other people don’t understand us. If it ain’t that, I don’t want it.
“Anyway, so who’s the guy?” she asks.
“Someone I met at the mixer,” I say, holding the rose to my nose. “It feels like it could be something, but I don’t know. He’s giving off player vibes.”
“If he is, run for the hills, chile! Ain’t nobody got time for no players.”
“I know, and it’s too bad because I really like him.”
“Did you confront him about it?”
“No. I don’t know if I should.”
“Well, he must mean something to you if you brought it up.”
“Okay, then I probably shouldn’t have said anything. But listen to me when I say this—I’m not going to lunch with y’all tomorrow.”
“Livia!”
“I gotta go, Hope. Love ya! Bye.”
I hang up the phone with an evil grin on my face. She can deal with mom and her antics this time. I don’t want any parts of it.
I place the rose back into the vase with the others and, with my elbows on the desk, I prop my head up against my hands and sulk.
Why? Why is this happening?
Why did I have to meet this amazing man, and he ended up not being what I’ve already imagined he could be in my mind? I swear I looked into his eyes and saw my entire future. I’m talking a wedding dress, heavy lovemaking sessions, babies, more lovemaking – the whole shebang. I dismissed those thoughts when we were at the mixer because, how does one dream of marrying someone they just met? However, when he was at my place for dinner, there it was again – the vision of what we could become.
And now, after he’s been missing from my life yet again, he sends me roses. That just ain’t going to cut it.
I shake myself out of this misery and refocus on my job. I told Soda she could leave early since she was done with her tasks for the day, so she got out of here by eleven. I still have a few things to wrap up before I start my weekend. Fridays are about notes and preparing for next week. So, I go over the calendar and finish my client notes for the week. I glance at the clock. It’s a quarter ‘til twelve and I hear the chime on the door.
“Did you forget something, Soda?” I ask without getting up from my desk. When she doesn’t respond, I walk to the lobby to discover it’s not Soda.
It’s him.
Khenji.
My heart nearly jumps out of my chest. I’m in awe.
He’s standing there near the door wearing a black suit, black shirt, black tie and black leather shoes. Yes, I looked him up and down because it’s the attention he demands without having to say a single word. He’s expressionless as he slides his hands into his pockets. His captivating cologne stirs me even at a time when I don’t want to be shaken by his presence. I’m supposed to be cutting ties with him. So, why is my heart beating so rapidly? Why is blood rushing to my brain so fast, it’s making me dizzy? Why is this man able to do these things to me?
“Hi,” he utters, his deep voice slicing through my mind, seeking a permanent home.
I frown when usually he’s the one frowning, especially when he sees me. Guess I took a page out of his playbook.
“Did you get the flowers?” he asks, his eyes laser-focused on me.
“Yes, I did. They’re in my office. Thank you. Um…what are you doing here, Khenji? And don’t say because you wanted to see me, or any of those other things you say to me. Just tell me—what are you doing here?”
“I wanted to see you.”
I shake my head and nearly roll my eyes, but I catch myself. Didn’t I tell him not to say that? It’s highly disappointing because he could’ve seen me at any given time in the last two weeks. He just chose not to.
Deflated, I say, “Okay, you saw me. Bye.” I turn around to head back to my office, hoping he’d take the hint to leave.
He doesn’t.
He says, “Don’t walk away from me, Livia.”
I stop, turn around and look at him because his voice sounds so authoritative and super sexy like it could be the voice of the man who’s going to give me his last name. I’m still pissed, though, and I think I have a right to be.
“What did you say?”
“I said don’t walk away from me. I came here to talk to you.”
I shake my head. “Why, Khenji?”
“Livia—”
“I don’t understand you. I tried—I really did, but—”
“Livia—”
“No, let me finish,” I say flustered and frustrated, cutting him off right after he did the same to me. “I invited you to my place, my home, my personal space, and cooked dinner for you. I thought we were having a good time. You even gave me this necklace,” I say, touching it. I hadn’t taken it off since he gave it to me – not even to shower. “You complimented me on how good the food was, but when I tried to kiss you, you moved away from me like I had some incurable disease. The look on your face told me you were truly disgusted, and as if that wasn’t bad enough, you ghosted me for two weeks. Two whole weeks! Again.”
“It wasn’t two weeks. It was ten days. Two weeks is fourteen days. It was ten days, and I didn’t ghost you,” he says even timbered.
It irks me how calm he is. I ask, “Then what do you call it? Huh? What do you call it when you straight up disappear and cease all contact with someone? I call it ghosting.”
He frowns.
I raise my brows. “Nothing? No answer. You have nothing to say?”
He stands there and stares at me.
I shake my head and say, “No response. Typical.”
I cross my arms and stare back at him since that’s what we’re doing right now.
He finally breaks the silence and says, “I took something from your apartment.”
“Excuse me?”
“I took some lotion.”
“What…the…heck are you talking about, Khenji?”’
“The first time I visited your place, I saw a bottle of strawberry pound cake lotion in your bathroom. I took it. I keep it in my desk drawer at work.”
This man just keeps getting weirder and weirder and yet, I find him highly intriguing. I ask, “Why would you take my lotion?”
“Because it smells like you.”
“Okay, but why take it?”
“Because I’m obsessed with you,” he deadpans.
I want to frown, but I can’t fix my face to move. “You’re not obsessed with me,” I challenge, “Because if you were, you wouldn’t let two weeks—I’m sorry…ten days—pass without wanting to see me. Or talk to me. Or text me. And I even tried to call you. You didn’t call me back.”
“I thought not talking to you for a while would fix my obsession, but it hasn’t.”
“And now you’re back for another—what—week, before you disappear again?”
He sighs heavily. “I apologize for my behavior. I left your place quickly because you wanted to kiss me and I didn’t want to kiss you. I mean, I do, but not then. Not when I’m still learning to control myself around you. Kissing is a form of intimacy that leads to other things, and I don’t want to make love to you until we’re married.”
Married? Is he discussing marriage?
“Married?” I ask to clarify that I heard him correctly.
“Yes. Married. But when I’m alone with you, I’m tempted. I want to know you. I want to be the person you can’t live without. I want to be the person who makes your heart race when you see me. I know this sounds crazy, but you asked, so there. That’s my answer. You don’t disgust me, Livia. You ignite desires in me that I hardly have any control over. I have no practice. The best I can do is distance myself from you until I figure it out.”
His words are smooth, but I don’t want to be the na?ve woman to believe everything that comes out of his mouth anymore. My heart wants me to, but my mind says don’t be a fool, girl. It’s either my mind or Hope’s voice. Whatever the case, I have to look at the facts. This man disappeared for two weeks on two separate occasions and both times he came back. How many more times am I going to allow this to happen?
I say, “I’m going to ask you something, and I want you to tell me the truth. If I feel like you’re being dishonest, this will be the end of whatever this ever was.”
“I understand.”
My heart is pounding as I stand before him speaking to him in this manner when I’ve already pictured this man being my head – the man I’m supposed to submit to. I ask, “Are you seeing anyone else?”
“No.”
“Are you telling me the truth?”
“Yes, I am, Livia.”
“Khenji, I’m not going to fall for you only to find out later that you have a secret wife locked up somewhere in the basement, and a baby mama who lives in an upscale condo and drives a G-Wagon on your dime.”
A smirk appears on his handsome face. He says, “There is no secret wife and no baby mama with a G-Wagon. I’ve never been married, I don’t have a girlfriend and I’m not lying to you. You’re the only woman I want.”
“Why?”
“I told you why.”
I step closer to him, toe-to-toe, and say, “Tell me again.”
His eyes fall to my face when he replies, “I’m happy when I’m with you.”
“Yet you go for weeks at a time without seeing me.”
“For your sake, yes.”
“My sake?”
“Mmm, hmm…”
“How for my sake, Khenji? You don’t think I miss you when you’re away? You have my lotion. I don’t have anything that reminds me of you when you decide to up and disappear.”
“You have this necklace,” he says, touching the necklace he gave me as it hangs around my neck.
“Yeah, I do, but your scent isn’t on it, so again, what do I have when you retreat into your safe zone?”
His eyes roll down to my lips when he responds, “If you only knew the things I dream about doing to you…”
“Khenji—”
“I’m in love with you, Livia Augustus, and I will do whatever it takes to make you mine.”
Now, I’m the speechless one. I want Khenji, I do, but I don’t want to get hurt by falling for a man who’s unavailable. Looking away from him, I say, “You’ve had your two weeks to think things through. I need my time now.”
“What is there to think about?”
“This. Us. This dynamic has been very confusing for me. I don’t know what to do at this point.”
“Livia, I don’t want to lose you,” he utters, then does something that almost snatches my soul. He wraps his arms around me and holds me close to his chest like I’m his. I close my arms around him as tightly as he’s holding me, and it’s at this moment that I know I’m in the arms of my husband. Of the man God intended for me to have. I feel safe. I feel loved. I feel the quick heartbeats of my soulmate against the side of my face. It’s the most beautiful sound in the world.
I don’t attempt to release him.
He doesn’t make an attempt to release me.
We hold each other as we speak with our bodies. Our minds are in sync. Our hearts are in union. We were made for each other.
This overwhelming realization has me close to tears, but I don’t cry. I just recognize what it means while basking in his scent. It provides me with so much comfort and peace. Being this close to him is addictive.
He groans. It’s a soft rumble that awakes me from fantasy land. I figure I better let him go. I slowly release him and he releases me.
He cups my chin, tilts it up slightly so that I look him in the eyes and says, “We’ll talk later, okay?”
“Okay.”
He releases my chin, takes my hand and kisses the backside of it. Then he smiles. It’s a brief one, but it was a smile, nonetheless. Afterward, he turns to head for the door.
I say, “Wait.”
He turns towards me.
I say, “Give me your suit jacket.”
His brows raise. “You want my jacket?”
I hold out my hand, waiting for him to give it to me.
His smile widens. He slides it off, removes the pocket watch and hands the jacket to me. I say, “Now, we’re even.”
He gives me a single nod and turns to exit. I walk to the glass door and watch him walk to his car. That sexy walk, the body, his height, his skin tone – he’s a king.
My king.
As he drives away, I hold his jacket to my nose and pull in a long inhale of his scent. Then I hold it in front of me and bask in the warmness he left on it. Looks like he’s not the only one who’s obsessed.