chapter five. #2
“Huh?”
“Focus.”
“I am focused,” I clap back, angrily biting into another breadstick. I had considered getting some salad, but I’m too deep into this lasagna to even begin convincing myself to eat cold lettuce, tomatoes, and cucumbers just because it’s healthy.
After taking a sip of tea, I ask, “What about sleeping arrangements? How are we going to do that?”
“We’ll have to share the primary bedroom. Fortunately, we have a sofa in our—my—bedroom. I’ll sleep there if that’ll make you more comfortable.”
“You’re not sleeping on the sofa, Brix.”
“I seriously don’t mind it. I want you to be comfortable.”
“I’ll just wait until your parents fall asleep and sneak into a different bedroom.”
“No. Too risky. I don’t want you to get caught.”
I frown and ask, “How am I going to get caught?”
He hikes up a shoulder. “I don’t know. Maybe my dad gets up to use the bathroom and sees you in the hallway in your nightgown tiptoeing to another bedroom.”
“They have their own bathroom in their bedroom, so that’s not likely.”
“Well, maybe he goes downstairs for a drink. Or, perhaps my mother hears the door creak and gets up to inspect and see you creeping like Rickey Smiley in Friday After Next.”
Brix chuckles. I always loved the way his face lights up when he’s tickled.
I say, “First of all, doors don’t creak in million-dollar mansions. Second, I wouldn’t tiptoe. I’ll just cascade down the hall like a—”
“Ghost?”
He laughs more, his shoulders bouncing as he does so.
“Okay, fine,” I say indignantly. “We’ll do everything your way. I won’t make any suggestions. Happy?”
“Cyn, I was just–Cyn?”
“What?” I ask as I scoop more lasagna from the dish, feeling my thighs expanding already.
“Look at me.”
“Why?” I ask, not giving in to his request because he knows he done pissed me off, and now he wants me to look at him. At the happiness on his face. The way his eyes crinkle in the corners when he smiles. The way he just looks – happy.
“I want you to see my intention. Look at me.”
I look up at him, catching the gorgeous face of the man who still makes my heart skip a beat.
It’s not often I see him with a beard. Per hospital policy, he cannot have one, but since he’s off this week, that five o’clock shadow has emerged, exhibiting main character energy.
It makes him look even finer than he already is.
He smiles. I swear my heart just did a pirouette.
“Ah, there. That’s better,” he tells me, our pupils marrying across this table, taking me back to the day we said our vows.
The way he pried my mouth open with his tongue in front of our family and friends and kissed me like the world was ending.
His mother had shouted, Save some for the honeymoon, wearing a white hat that resembled a tilting flying saucer.
Looked like something that belonged in Area 51.
“You have my attention, now what’s your intention?”
“I don’t want to make this any harder than it already is, Cyn. I just want things to go smoothly.”
“What could possibly go wrong?” I ask caustically.
He stares, his eyes lowering just enough to let me know I’m irritating him.
Yes. I’m doing exactly what I set out to do.
“Cyn, if you don’t want to do this–”
“No worries. I got you. I mean it. I got everything under control, and I will try to do my best.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that.”
Yeah, sure you do…
I ask, “Is there anything new I should know before they get here?”
“Like what?”
I shrug. “I don’t know…like, have you gotten a promotion?
Are you planning any special trips that you told them about and not me?
Have you recently won an award? Did you get a tooth pulled?
Bought something? Saved money on your car insurance by switching to Geico?
” I shrug again and poke my bottom lip out at the same time.
He breathes heavily. “No, Cynnamon. I have the same position, and I haven’t won anything, I have all my teeth, I haven’t bought anything substantial since you left me, and I don’t know how much I pay for car insurance. I just pay it. But you know that already…”
“Okay, well, that makes it easy, but you know your mom is going to ask when we’re having kids. Other than duct taping her mouth, how can you stop that?”
“Easy. We haven’t had sex in quite some time, so—”
“Not that, boy!”
He grins. “Oh. I figured since we’re being funny and all…”
“Whatever.” I roll my eyes.
“Oh, ain’t no fun when the rabbit got the gun, huh?” After a good chuckle, he says, “I’ll just say the same thing I’ve always told her—we’ll have one when the time is right.”
“Okay. That’ll work.”
“Anything else that comes up, we’ll handle it on the spot. If you don’t know how to respond to something, just kick me and I’ll step in.”
“Now, that, I will gladly do! I’ma kick you right in the shins.”
“I’m sure you will.”
I stand up, stretch, and say, “That was some good lasagna. Where’d you get it?”
“Classic Catering.”
“Oh. I thought they only did soul food.”
“They expanded their menu a few months ago. You can get all kinds of food there, but of course, nothing is better than your meals.”
I was going to say something slick, but I’m full and tired, so I say, “Thanks.” I take my plate to the sink and ask, “The food for this week—will it be delivered?”
“Yes, tomorrow evening.”
“Did you order dessert as well?” I ask, crossing my arms as I lean up against the counter.
I notice how his eyes sweep my body when he responds, “I did–got the coconut cake.”
“You didn’t get a pie?”
“Nah.”
“Oh, we can’t have that. I’ll make some sweet potato pies.”
“You don’t have to do that, Cyn. I didn’t bring you over here to work.”
“It’s fine. They’re easy to make, and you know your parents love my sweet potato pies. Don’t worry about it.”
He stretches, his sculpted arms extending high toward the ceiling. He’s not even flexing, and I can see his muscle definition and the dark hair under his arms. I close my mouth before I start drooling. Before I lose my mind. Before my body yearns for his touch.
I breathe evenly. Quietly. Patiently. I’ve never allowed another man to touch me. Never wanted another man to touch me. Once upon a time, I only wanted him. His lips, his mouth, his—
“Cyn?”
I clear my throat and say, “Huh?”
“Did you have any other questions?”
“Oh, no. I’m good. I suppose I’ll go shower and get ready for bed. Fortunately for you, you don’t have to show me where anything is.”
“Right.”
“Did you take my bag upstairs?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Thanks.”
“No, thank you.”
I roll my eyes and leave the kitchen. Jogging upstairs and walking down the hallway, I step into what was once my bedroom – our bedroom – and I don’t know what it was about being in here, but tears immediately come to my eyes.
It smells like him. I miss that smell. Miss him. I used to find comfort in his arms. In our lives. I used to feel safe with him. Now, I don’t know what to feel. My mind and hormones are all over the place.
I step into the bathroom, take out my toiletries, and brush my teeth before stepping into the shower where I clean my body and wash my tears away.
I don’t know how I’m going to get through the night sleeping in his bed without feeling a certain kind of way about it.
I’ll be tucked beneath covers that smell like him.
Reliving our closeness in this bed. The pillow talks. The lovemaking…
Gosh, I miss my husband, but he’s proven that I’m not important to him. What am I supposed to do about that? I can’t jump into his mind and make him see my value. He needs to do that all on his own.