Truce Of The Matter

Chapter 17

W hat started out as a perfect evening ended in total chaos and sadness. I felt absolutely horrible for Rex, his brother, Aryel, and especially his parents. Their whole anniversary celebration was ruined. After Lyra’s boyfriend was dragged out by Nymere, Lyra left. Poor Miss Arlene was a mess. Chantel and Dax never walked back into the solarium; they left. So Nyrielle and I cleaned everything up as best as we could while Rex tried to console Aryel and his mom.

“I’m going to follow you home,” I tell him. I’m sitting in my driver’s seat and he’s standing in my doorway. He’s obviously still upset about everything and I can see the hurt in his normally vibrant eyes. He’s also worried about Aryel. She was so worried about her dad and uncle and when Rex knocked the dude out, she lost it and couldn’t stop crying. I don’t think she’s ever seen her dad that upset before. “Did you hear me? I’m following you to your house.”

He leans in and pecks my lips then says, “Okay.”

After closing my door, he walks over and gets in his truck. I start my engine then follow him as he pulls out of his parents’ driveway. Because his home is in Chandler Heights, it takes us almost thirty minutes to get there. He drives into his garage and I park in his driveway. When I walk into the garage, Aryel’s eyes light up when she sees me.

“You’re spending the night?” she asks and I grin but defer the answer to her dad.

“Yeah, baby, she’s staying,” he says and she walks over and embraces me. As we walk into his beautiful home, Aryel yawns back to back from exhaustion, probably physical and emotional. “Let me get her settled then I’ll be back,” he says when we enter his spacious great room.

“Daddy, I want to show her my room,” she says with a slight pout.

“She can see it later or in the morning,” he tells her before leading her to the staircase.

I ease down on his oversized black sectional and make myself comfortable. While I love my boots, my feet are screaming for a release so I remove them. My eyes scan his space and everything screams Rex. The masculine hues of black and gray dominate his décor but the accent pops of red soften everything, also reflective of him and his tender side that I’m obsessed with. About ten minutes later, he returns downstairs and walks over to me.

“You good?” he asks.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Is she in bed?”

“No. She’s taking a bath but she’ll be knocked out as soon as she’s in bed. I’m gonna grab her a water bottle. I haven’t restocked her little compact fridge by her bed. You want something to drink?”

“No. I’m good.”

“When I go up, come. I don’t know what you did to my baby but she’s dying to show you her room and I want you in mine too.”

He leans in and passionately possesses my lips before walking to his kitchen. I stand, leaving my boots in here, and follow. We walk from the kitchen, past the great room into his foyer, then up the staircase. Once upstairs, we pass an open space theatre room and a guest room before entering Aryel’s beautiful, Black Disney princess decorated room. She’s already laying in her sleigh bed but sits up when we walk in.

“Your room is beautiful,” I gush.

“Thank you,” she says, beaming. “My bathroom is Disney too. Ariel is my favorite.”

“I bet she is,” I tell her, then wink. “She’s my favorite one too.”

Rex actually has two small bottles of water and two bottles of apple juice. He places all four in her little fridge. It’s pink and sitting on top of her bedside nightstand. She yawns again then lays back on her pillows. He pulls her comforter up over her then kisses her forehead.

“Good night, baby,” he says.

“Good night, Daddy and good night, Miss Truce.”

“Sweet dreams, princess.”

After he powers Aryel’s TV on and lowers the volume, we leave her room and walk down the hall to his room, or should I say, suite. It’s double the size of my master and my room is considered large. There are clearly perks of owning a furniture store because every piece in this house is exquisite, including the pieces in here: the custom made Alaskan king bed, panel headboard that extends beyond the bed, stone fireplace, and oversized chaise lounges in the sitting area. The color scheme is black, gray, and gold, totally masculine, devoid of the soft touches I spotted in the other rooms.

“This is pretty big and impressive for just one man,” I comment as I take it all in.

“I’ve just been waiting on the right woman to claim her space in here and in my life,” he says before stepping behind me, negating the few feet between us.

His arms encase my body and he rests his chin on my shoulder. Slowly, he starts walking us toward his big ass bed and when we reach it, he turns me to face him. He smiles but the disappointment lingering in his eyes prevents the smile from reaching them. Concerned, my hands grip the sides of his face.

“Hey, you know you can talk to me, right?”

“You’re in my home, in my bedroom that’s too big for me, and in my arms. The last thing I want to do is talk,” he says before devouring my mouth.

He kisses me with the perfect mixture of passion, lust, and aggression that he manages to momentarily detour my mission of comforting him. Momentarily though. When our lips break, I’m breathless but his somber eyes refocus me.

“I’m serious. You’ve been here for me through my momma and Daija. I’ve cried on your shoulders too many times to count. Rex, listen to me. Please, let me be that same comfort for you. Talk to me,” I plead and he sighs. “How about this? I need a bath. Warm water and a tub always relaxes me. I know you have a tub in this big ass room.”

Before he can object, I break from his embrace, sprint to his bathroom, and damn! He has a tub alright. This enormous bathroom is a dream. The floor is tiled with black marble with thin gold veins. The dual shower is beautifully encased with marble and stone and the dual sink has a similar design and structure. But the tub! It’s heaven! It owns the middle of the bathroom: huge, square, and sunken.

“This has to be custom. I’ve never seen a square tub. How many people can fit in here?” I question because it legit looks like a cocktail pool.

“The designer said twelve but I’ll never know for sure.”

“Well, we are about to confirm two right now.” I walk over to the gold knobs and quickly realize that I haven’t the faintest idea on how to turn it on. “You clearly need to start it; it’s too intricate for me. Do you have any oils or gels?”

“In the linen closet by the sink.” As he turns on the tub, I trek to his linen closet and find a selection of body washes and gel, more neutral but some masculine scents. I settle for a coconut and shea butter one and walk it over to the tub. It’s quickly filling. There are over twenty streams flowing throughout it. “I set it for eighty-eight degrees,” he informs me.

“Can you up it to ninety-five? I like it just a tad bit hotter.”

“You trying to burn my skin?”

“It will not burn your skin. Trust me,” I say and he adjusts something and the temperature rises. “Thank you.” I squeeze a nice amount of the bath gel inside then place the bottle on the side of the tub near the large marble towel basket. I inch back closer to him then pat my hand on my zipper. Gladly, he unzips my dress then gently pushes it off my shoulders. I remove my arms and push it over my hips. He unhooks my bra then slides his hands on my sides to my breasts. He cups them before pushing my bra off. His hands slide into my panties and he swipes two fingers over my slit. “Mmm, our bath,” I remind him.

My plan is to get him in this tub, let his body and mind relax, then convince him to unburden his feelings onto me. For once, I want to be his support, be what he needs and show him I’m here for him.

“And you think bringing this body in the tub with me and I’m naked too is going to lead to talking?” he groans sexily in my ear.

“Mm hmm,” I moan, failing miserably at my attempt to say yes but I quickly regroup, focusing back on our talk. “Yes, it will because you need to talk. Even though it pains me to stop the pleasurable assault by his fingers, I place my hand over his then say sternly, “This is for later. Right now, I’m ready for this tub.”

I remove his hand reluctantly, slide my panties down, then step down into the water. When I’m comfortably seated, he steps to the faucet, kills the streams, then removes his clothes. His face scrunches a little when he first steps down into the hot water but it loosens once he’s seated beside me. After grabbing one of the extra-large sponges from the basket, I dip it into the water then rub it across his exposed shoulders, squeezing the water as I do.

“I’ve never used this thing,” he utters.

“What? This tub?” I question, in total disbelief.

“Yeah. Aryel loves it but I shower.”

“Really? I would live in here. It’s already beautiful but these jet streams, my God. They are gently massaging my entire body. I know you feel ’em.”

“Yeah, it’s tight actually.”

“But why have such a special tub made if you weren’t going to use it?”

“When I decided to move back home for my baby girl, I knew I wanted to build my forever house for me, her, and my wife.”

“So, even after your first divorce you knew you wanted to get married again?”

“Of course. Man wasn’t built to live this world without his person, his woman. I hoped that my first marriage would be my one and only but that wasn’t meant for me. If I’m being honest, shit, she wasn’t meant for me. I saw little signs but I guess I wanted to believe in us so much that I just let that shit slide. I’ll never regret Aria though because with her, I got my little princess.” His arm hooks around my waist and he scoops me up onto his lap. “Enough of the past. I want to focus on my future,” he says.

“Me too but we have to talk about today first and why your forehead has been wrinkled like this since your sister,” I say before running my wet finger across his forehead. “Talking about it will help.”

“But it won’t change shit,” he scoffs.

“It will change how you feel about it. Holding on to stuff really affects you. It might not show in your physical but it fucks with your mental and emotional state and that’s worse, especially for those around you.” My hand caresses his face as I stare into his eyes and he peers into mine. I don’t waver though because I’m not letting this go. He needs to unburden himself and talk this out. “Why were you so upset today?” I ask.

His other hand wraps around me and he pulls me into him. “You really want to hear this?”

“’Yes because I want you to get it off your chest. I don’t like this hurt in your eyes,” I admit, voice soft and pleading.

He scoots back, resting on the wall of the tub. The feel of the massage jets seems more intense here. While his hands caress my back, he softly peppers kisses on my lips. At first, I think he’s trying to distract me but when he drops his head back, I realize that he’s ready.

“It’s fucked up,” he utters then shakes his head. “My sister fucked up tonight. Bad. Real fucking bad and on our parents’ damn anniversary. He was her ex-husband and that nigga’s a real no-shit, bum ass nigga. He beat her real bad and stole every fucking thing she had.”

“Oh God. Damn,” I utter.

He roughly swipes his hand down his face then lifts his head back up straight. “I dumped out so much money to pay shit off for her: her hospital bills, getting her back here. Shit, setting her up, but it ain’t even about the bread. Ion even care about that shit. It’s really about the disrespect to our brother. He did what I should have and ended up doing three years. Three years and Lyra brought that nigga to the barbecue. What the fuck was her ass thinking?” he asks but I know he isn’t expecting an answer so I don’t give one. I simply caress his face to reinforce that I’m here and listening.

“Seeing him took me there. I wanted to knock his ass out and I did without thinking first. In front of my baby though; I scared her. That’s the shit I regret. Shit! I let that nigga take me there. Fuck,” he grits with remorse.

“She wasn’t scared,” I assure him. “Just surprised and really worried. She thought you and her uncle were going to get hurt but I promised her that he wasn’t going to hurt y’all. I had her, so trust me; you didn’t scare her.” His eyebrows raise, unsure, but I repeat my words for emphasis. “I had her, Rex. She wasn’t scared.”

He nods then shrugs. “And my moms. She was crying and shit, all devastated. Their whole party was ruined. I just don’t even know why Lyra would even be entertaining this nigga,” he says.

“Maybe you should talk to her and see where her head is,” I suggest.

“I can’t even look at my sister right now,” he admits sternly.

“I’m not saying talk to her tonight or even tomorrow but when you get past your anger and can just see your sister who probably needs your help again.”

“I don’t know,” he says while shaking his head. “I just don’t know if I can ever talk to her.”

“She’s your sister and you love her, so you will talk to her again. That’s what family does. We disappoint, hurt, and even upset each other but the love is always there,” I say with an equal amount of hope for him and Lyra as I have for Daija and me.

It’s been a week and while Daija and I haven’t talked, she has been responding to my texts. I’m hopeful that her one and two word responses are a start, a new start for us. I love her with all my heart and believe that deep down, she still loves me too, just like I know Rex loves his sister.

“Not anytime soon though,” he says and that’s a beginning.

I’ll take it.

“That’s a start.”

His shoulders relax and the lines in his forehead soften too. He eases off the wall and straightens his back. With his large hands bracing my back, he lifts up slightly then inches us back to the steps. He sits on the second one, lifting us from total immersion in the hot water, and my straddling legs drop to his sides. Only my legs and ass are in the water and my top half immediately feels the change in temperature. I shiver a little.

“I’m about to heat you up,” he mumbles into the side of my neck before planting pillowy kisses on it.

Each soft kiss sends a chill down my spine and to my clit. His hand follows the chill and while his lips move to mine, his thumb grazes my clit. His promise to heat me up is fulfilled as my entire body warms from his kisses and touch.

Two fingers breach my waiting opening and he goes to work. While making love to my mouth with his tongue, he finger-fucks me to a slow, rolling orgasm that vibrates from my core down to my toes. As I try desperately to recover the breath he so thoroughly stole, he lifts my body and eases me down on his hard dick.

“Shit!” we hiss in unison.

Then, my lips cover his as I ride Rex through two more orgasms. When we are both satisfied beyond measure, he takes his time washing my body and I return the favor then he carries me to his huge, comfortable bed. After he pulls my body onto his and wraps his strong arms around me, I drift off to sleep.

The feel of his large, warm body shifting in the bed causes me to awake from my sleep. My eyes squint open to see him blindly maneuvering with closed eyes. His long arm reaches over to his bedside and his hand fumbles for a remote. When he presses it, the slight streaks of light through the blinds start to fade as a darkening shade descends.

With my hand caressing his rippled chest, I ask, “Can one of those buttons disarm your alarm?”

“Why?”

“I need to get something out of my car.”

“I got it,” he utters.

“No. Your eyes aren’t even open. Stay and sleep some more ’cause it’s still early; I’m just used to getting up.”

He presses something else on the remote, eyes still closed, then utters, “It’s off. Get what you need from your ride; don’t leave though.”

“I’m not. Just go back to sleep, baby. I’ll still be here when you wake up.”

I plant a kiss on his chest then ease out of his bed. After pulling the duvet over his chest, I walk over to his armoire and rummage through it. I find a hoodie and a pair of basketball shorts. His clothes swallow my frame but I make it work by pushing the sleeves of the hoodie up and rolling the band of the shorts. It’ll do because I have no plans of going out of the house; I feel like cooking.

Before walking out of his room, I glance back and see that he’s fast asleep. So, I close his door lightly then creep down the hall. I peep in on Aryel and she’s asleep too, on her back, arms stretched out, just like her daddy. A smile emerges at the sight.

I make my way downstairs to his dream kitchen. From the extra-large island, Subzero, glass door fridge, and to-die-for dual fuel range, gas cooktop, and electric oven stove, I can live in this kitchen and after last night, Rex earned a home cooked meal. I want to feed him.

There’s a Keurig machine and a few breakfast blend pods so I can enjoy a cup of coffee. After washing my hands, I grab one of the disposable coffee cups by the machine and start my coffee. As it brews, I raid his fridge, pantry, and cabinets. I locate the sugar and milk for my cup but not much for my meal. So as I sip on my coffee, I place an express delivery order on Munchies from The Marketplace. The ingredients for my grilled chicken, eggs, and pancakes breakfast will be here in an hour.

While I wait, I amble to the great room, grab my cell from my tote, and return to the kitchen. My dad is heavy on my mind because I haven’t seen him in over two weeks. We barely talk on the phone and every time I suggest visiting the house, he’s heading to the church. I know it’s his sanctuary and comfort so I don’t trip about that but I would like to lay my eyes on him and see that he’s doing okay. Just like me, he’s an early riser so I know he’s awake.

“Hello,” he answers.

“Good morning, Daddy.”

“Hey, sweetie. What are you doing up?”

“You know I get up early, even on the weekends I don’t open. I get that from you. You heading to Sunday School this morning?”

“Yeah and morning service afterwards. Now that Daija,” he says then stops. Before I can ask if anything is wrong, he continues, “I would love for you to join me for service. Things are different now.”

“I still won’t go there, Daddy. Besides, I go to church, just online. God knows my heart and he knows that I can’t sit up in that church,” I say and he sighs.

Not only did the reverend and the first lady agree with my mom about me not keeping Daija, they went a step further and forbade Tre from acknowledging me when I returned from Florida. I was a condemned sinner while their son was exonerated for our so-called transgression. They were hypocrites and I refused to worship with them in their church. Daija now knowing that she’s my child doesn’t change my mind either.

“Well maybe one day,” he says, hopeful but it’s a waste of hope.

Changing the subject, I say, “I’ll stop by this evening and cook for you. What do you have a taste for?”

“It’s fellowship Sunday and they are serving dinner after church. So, I’m fine today, sweetie.”

“Then tomorrow, it’s you and me and I’m not taking no for an answer.”

“Alright. We can have lunch. I’m going to church in the morning.”

“On a Monday? For what?”

“A deacons meeting. We can eat at the restaurant around three.”

“The team will love that. It’s a date. Lunch at three. I love you, Daddy.”

“Love you too, sweetie.”

I end the call and stare at my screen for a moment, debating if I should take a chance and call Daija. I open my favorites and hit the i in her contact. Her full information appears with her college ID picture as her contact photo. I study it for a few more moments, stalling. Then, I just go for it and press call. It rings three times and her voicemail picks up. I end the call, disappointed. Seconds later, a text from her appears on my screen.

Daija: Still in bed. Late night.

Me: Late night studying?

Daija: Something like that. I’ll text u later.

Me: Okay. Get some rest then. I love you.

My eyes stay glued to my screen as I wait, hope, and pray that she responds, stating

her love for me. I wait and wait but her response doesn’t come. Disheartened, I shake my head then turn the phone over. It vibrates as soon as I do and I excitedly flip it to read my text. Unfortunately, it’s not Daija. Instead, it’s my Munchies delivery driver notifying me that my groceries are at the door so I rush to it and grab my bags.

As soon as I wash my hands, I tackle the chicken breasts, seasoning them for a quick marinade. I mix my pancake batter next, set it aside, then prepare the eggs for scrambling before I wash and cut my berries. The light sound of footsteps shuffling on the floor causes me to look up from the strawberries and see Aryel walking into the kitchen.

“Good morning,” she says softly.

“Good morning. Did I wake you?” I ask, worried that I’ve been too loud down here in this kitchen. She nods honestly and I can only smile. “Sorry. I was hungry and wanted to surprise y’all with breakfast.”

Her sleep-filled, pretty face perks up and she asks, “Can you make pancakes?”

“How about strawberry pancakes?”

“That’s my favorite,” she gushes. “I can help you.” Her big expressive eyes plead with me as she speaks.

“I definitely need some help. Let’s wash your hands and get started.”

Excitedly, she says, “Let me get my stool.”

She rushes over to the pantry and pulls out a little wooden stool with a pink velvet top. I turn and step toward her to assist but her eyes let me know she wants to do it. She’s very independent and clearly likes to help. She carries the stool over to the counter and places it right beside me. She washes her hands then looks at me for directions.

I place my sharp knife into the sink and grab two butter knives from the utensil drawer. The berries are soft and can be easily sliced with these. After moving the cutting board over to her, I hand her the knife.

“I cut the stems. I just need you to slice these like this,” I tell her then slice three berries, demonstrating how to use the knife.

“I got it,” she assures me. “You want me to cut all of them?”

“If you can that’ll be good because your dad eats a lot,” I say and she giggles.

“Yeah, he’s greedy,” she says with a grin.

I hand her the knife and watch as she cuts three strawberries. Pleased by her little skills, I leave her to the berries and start grilling the chicken breasts then let them rest. Then, we start the pancakes. After dumping half of the sliced berries into the batter, I muddle a few into warming syrup and butter to make strawberry syrup and leave a few to top the pancakes. Aryel stirs the eggs as I cook the pancakes on the griddle.

“What smells so good?” Rex’s sexy voice booms from behind and we both turn to see him.

A huge grin is plastered on his handsome ass face. He’s leaning on the door frame, comfortable like he’s been in that spot for hours watching us. He doesn’t even shift when we turn to acknowledge him.

“We’re cooking, Daddy,” she announces proudly.

“I see and I smell chicken.”

“And strawberry pancakes and eggs. I’m scrambling them,” she gushes.

We turn back to the stove and he walks up behind us. His hands tug at his oversized shorts on me then he chuckles. He towers over us, looks at everything then grabs one of the cooked pancakes. “Daddy!” she exclaims. “We not ready yet.”

“I just want a taste test,” he says before pecking her cheek. He turns then pecks my lips. “I know all of this wasn’t in my kitchen,” he says.

“It wasn’t,” I reply, smirking.

“Did you go to the store dressed like this?” he asks, amused.

“Um no. Definitely not. I had the stuff delivered.”

He just stares at me for a moment, his smile unwavering. Then he takes a huge bite of the pancake. “Shit, this is good,” he raves.

“Thanks. I couldn’t have done this without my little helper,” I say and I don’t know whose smile is brighter, his or hers. “Sit. We’re almost ready to eat.”

He leans back to my ear, then whispers, “Thanks for this.”

Then he walks to the fridge before I can respond. The eggs are done so I turn the burner off and remove the pan. Aryel gets off her stool and snags the whipped topping from the fridge. I finish up the last pancakes then slice the chicken breasts. We all work together to bring the food to the dinette table so we can eat.

It’s after two by the time I leave Rex’s. I don’t know who wanted me to stay more, him or Aryel. If I didn’t need to swing by the restaurant, I probably would have stayed longer. I’m doing group interviews today for two new positions, prep manager and front of the house lead. For years, my parents opened in the mornings and handled the morning prep. Now that my mother is gone, I don’t think my dad wants to do it anymore. He hasn’t stepped foot in Redmond’s since her passing. So, I need new people. While I’m an early riser, committing to opening every day is too much for me. Besides, I like my schedule. I float in between all shifts when I want. It works better for me because I’m accessible to all shifts and my presence isn’t set in stone, which keeps them on their toes.

I rush home, shower, and dress and make it to the restaurant fifteen minutes before my interviews start. Taj has sectioned off the three tables in the back right side of the restaurant and three of the five candidates are already here.

“One of them has on a damn suit. I don’t think he realizes that this is a restaurant. We cook food. A suit ain’t it,” Taj teases.

“He’s just trying to be professional.”

“You’ll see.” We walk through the kitchen then I fix a cup of ice water from the fountain machine in the dining room. I have to control my laughter when I spot the young brother dressed in his Sunday best. I’ll give him grace though. Maybe he came straight here from church. “Told you,” Taj mumbles before we introduce ourselves.

Our final candidate arrives five minutes late and I make a note on her resume. I do not tolerate tardiness. When she’s seated, I begin by introducing myself and Taj. Then, I say the most dreaded statement to job candidates.

“Now, I want each of you to tell me a little about yourself.”

The interviews last a little over an hour and I think I’ve found my two new employees. I’ll sit on it for another day or two but I’m pretty sure I’m going to make offers to Kyron in the suit and Lovely. They both have the personalities and experience I’m looking for.

The minute I’m in my office, my cell chimes with a text from Rex and my entire face lights up. This man. I swear he’s in tune with every aspect of me. The timing of his text is perfect.

Rex: Still interviewing?

Me: Just finished.

Instead of texting back, he FaceTimes so I close my door then answer. His handsome face fills my phone and I see he’s in his great room. He looks unbelievably sexy just relaxing on his extra-large sectional.

“You look comfortable,” I comment while smiling.

“Comfortable but lonely. I miss your sexy ass.”

“It’s only been a few hours.”

“A few hours too many. Making you cum in my tub, waking up with you in my bed, and seeing you cooking with Aryel this morning hit different. I saw exactly how things should be with us. I real shit didn’t want you to leave this morning,” he professes and I can’t stop my blossoming smile. He always makes me smile.

“Last night and this morning were everything. Thank you for trusting me enough to talk to me.”

“I trust you one hundred percent with me but more importantly with Aryel. When I say last night and this morning hit different; she’s why. I trust my daughter with you and for me, that says everything.”

“And thank you for that because I know how much you love her.” Three taps on my door interrupts our conversation and I just shake my head. “Handle your business but I want to see you tonight.”

“I’ll pack a bag and come.”

“Nah. No bag. Seeing you in my clothes was sexy as hell.”

“That was a mess,” I admit while grinning. The amount of times I had to adjust the shorts and push up the sleeves was ridiculous.

“Wasn’t nothing about that messy. It was sexy as fuck.” The knocking returns and before I can respond to it or Rex, he adds, “See you tonight.”

The call ends and I call out, a little annoyed, “What is it?”

The door opens and Kameel, one of our newer servers, peeps her head in. As soon as she reads the apparent annoyance on my face, her bottom lip curls down then she utters, “Sorry but he kept asking to see you.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know his name. Sorry, I didn’t ask and I still haven’t learned everyone yet. I’m really sorry.”

Now a little more agitated, I stand, place my cell in my pocket, then walk to the door. “Is it a complaint? What did he order?” I drill sharply.

“I don’t think it’s a complaint because he didn’t order anything yet. Maybe I should've gotten Taj or Mack instead of bothering you,” she says slowly, extra apologetically, and I start to regret my sharp tone. The poor girl looks like she’s about to cry.

“It’s fine. Going forward, if Taj is here, she is your first stop.”

“I know. He was just so insistent and specifically asked for you.”

“Alright. Let’s go see what he wants.”

I walk out of my office and head to the front. Kameel is right on my heels and when we enter the dining area, she points the man out but I don’t need her assistance. Although we haven’t been this close in proximity in years, I recognize him immediately. Tremayne Jenkins. When his parents ordered him away from me, this place was number one on the list and he never returned. Never! So why the hell is he here now?

“You don’t need me to place an order,” I scoff, omitting all niceties, because again, why the hell is he here?

“We need to talk, Truce,” he says sternly and I roll my eyes.

“Would you like to speak with me?” I correct him and he has the nerve to sigh.

“Yes and in private.”

Relenting, I say, “You can meet me in my office. Go outside and around to the back door. I’ll meet you there.”

He frowns a little but when I turn to leave, he moves too. When I look back before going through the door to the kitchen area, I see him marching to the front door. I rush to the back and tell Taj to let him in. The look on her face is as perplexed as mine because what the fuck! I truly haven’t seen him in over twenty years. He was such a devoted son that he didn’t even try to reach out after Daija was born. He even changed high schools when I came back to Crescent Falls. He hurt me and I thought I was over it but right now, it’s flooding back.

“Calm down,” I utter to myself as I pace in my office. My feet stop when my door opens and Taj walks him in.

“Need me to stay?” she asks me while she glares at him.

“No, I’m good. I’m sure this, whatever the hell it is, won’t take long.”

She gives him a displeased once over then leaves. When she does, he pushes the door, as if to confirm that it is, in fact, closed. Then, he stares at me. I do the same to him. He looks ten years older than his true age. The years haven’t been too kind to him and it shows on his hardened face.

“Why are you here?” I huff.

“To see why Daija is reaching out to me,” he snaps back with fury.

Daija reached out to him?

“I hope you didn’t do something dumb,” he has the audacity to say.

“Dumb? Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?” I bark and one of his bushy ass eyebrows furrows. “I told my daughter what I should have done a long ass time ago. That’s what the fuck I did.”

“And you told her about me?”

“You are her father.” He sighs loudly as hell while shaking his head then he glares at me. I glare back. “What?”

“I’m married. I have two kids and I’m about to take over my father’s church. I can’t have this coming out. She needs to leave me alone. Tell her to stop calling and just let whatever fantasy she has go. Mr. Redmond is her father. That’s what we decided and that’s how it is.”

“We! I didn’t decide shit. Our parents did and your weak ass just let them.”

“I was sixteen.”

“You’re not sixteen now. You are a fucking thirty-seven year old man. Use your voice this time and talk to her.” His hand touches my door knob and I just shake my damn head. “Really, Tremayne?”

He turns his head to speak, obviously too cowardly to face me when he says the next dumb ass words out of his mouth.

“I have two kids. That’s it. Tell her to leave the past in the past.”

“Fuck you,” I yell as he opens my door and walks out. “Bastard.”

His audacity, cowardness, and unwillingness to even acknowledge Daija slaps the shit out of me and I’m still stinging from the blow. Before I can process or think to react rationally, my hands swipe across my desk and my files and inbox tray go crashing to the floor. “Ugh!” I scream in pure anger and frustration.

“Are you okay?” Taj yells as she rushes into the office. Quickly, she scans the mess on the floor and my face. “What the hell did he want?” She sighs before reaching down to pick my stuff up.

“Nothing. Nothing to do with Daija.”

“Daija? What?”

“I told her, Taj. I had to. It was eating me alive to keep it from her. I couldn’t do it anymore. She’s my baby and I had to tell her,” I cry.

Taj quickly puts my things back on my desk and rushes to me. Her arms fly around me and she squeezes me tightly.

“Truce! Oh, why didn’t you tell me?” I don’t have any answer for her so I remain quiet as she holds me. We embrace for a few moments then she peers into my eyes. “Are you okay? Is she okay?” she asks.

“I’m okay and she’s processing. We will be good, Taj. Thanks,” I say, then switch gears. I need to talk to Daija. “I’mma go ahead and leave. My dad and I will be here tomorrow for lunch.”

“Good, everyone will be happy to see him. Go ahead and go. I’ll call you tonight.”

“Thanks again, boo. I love you.”

“You know I love you too.”

She leaves me in the office and I’m walking out five minutes after her. As soon as I’m in my ride, I call Daija. We have to talk; this conversation can’t be had over text. With each ring, I say a silent prayer that she answers, so when she does, I smile. It immediately drops and my heart rate accelerates when I hear her whimper. She’s crying.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“He won’t even talk to me,” she barely gets out through her sobs. “Nothing.”

“It’ll be okay,” I try to assure her.

“No, it won’t. He told me not to call him no more, then he blocked me. Why? Why won’t he even talk to me? I just want to talk to him.”

“That’s on him; not on you and it’s his loss. You hear me? His, not yours. And remember you had a good daddy and you still have him,” I tell her and she sniffles. “Don’t waste your tears on him, okay? Not another one.” Although she responds with a yes, she doesn’t stop crying so I say, “I’m coming. I’ll find a flight tonight.”

“No. Don’t,” she sighs before inhaling and exhaling audibly through the phone. “I’ll be okay,” she says with no confidence.

“I’m coming,” I insist. My phone is now on speaker and I’m opening the Flight app.

“No, Truce. No. I’ll be fine. Besides, I have a presentation Thursday then a test Tuesday. I was going to come home early for spring break and leave next Wednesday,” she says and I smile.

“Did you get your ticket yet?”

“No. I’m driving. I need to bring some clothes home and some of my other stuff.” I simply say okay but I want to scream. I need to see her and having her home for over a week gives me plenty of opportunities to try. “Maybe you can talk to him before I come?” she asks, pleading actually, and I don’t have the heart to hurt her more.

So I simply say, “Maybe.” I’ll tell her the whole truth when she’s here with me.

“Thank you.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come tonight?”

“Yeah. I have to meet my project team at eight. I’ll be okay. Just try and talk to him please.”

“I will,” I lie because the look on Tremayne’s face today confirms that there’s no talking with him. “I’m going to check on you later.”

“Okay. I gotta go.”

“I love you,” I say but she ends the call before I get my words out.