Chapter 19
ALittle Taste of Home
Tinsley
The second Friday in April, Double made us leave the office early and head back to the house.
“Can you at least tell me where we’re going so I know what to wear?
” I asked as the two of us walked into the bedroom we now shared.
Once Double and I had sex, he refused to sleep without me right next to him.
Not more than two days later, I moved my body and the majority of my belongings into his bedroom.
I still kept a few things in the guest bedroom, and he harassed me every day to move everything out of there.
“Lyric met me over here while you were with my mother and grandmother, and she dropped off some pieces for you to choose from. They’re in the guest bedroom.”
Since Big Hill had told me about the opportunity to be the foundation’s in-house event designer, I had been spending a lot of time with Lynne and Mama Passion. We’d been going through pictures and videos of past events so I could get a feeling of the foundation’s aesthetic.
He walked into the kitchen while I went to see what Lyric had left for me.
Four clothing racks had been rolled into the bedroom.
Each one held a complete outfit—accessories and shoes included.
I moved from rack to rack, not really sure what to make of the outfits.
They were all more risqué than I typically ever dressed.
“Double!” I called out. “Double!”
“What up?”
“Have you seen the outfits your cousin left?”
“Nah, why?” His voice sounded close, and soon, he appeared in the doorway.
“Where are we going that you want me to dress so . . . I don’t know, provocatively?”
He chuckled. “Let me see.” He joined me by the first rolling clothes rack. He touched the fabric of the tattered jeans before moving to the other three racks. He nodded appreciatively. “Lyric always understands the assignment.”
“So you do want me to be naked?”
“Quit trippin’. I’m never lettin’ you leave the house naked, but I will let you leave looking sexy as hell. Choose an outfit, Sweetheart. There is a schedule, and you still have to shower, get dressed, and do your hair. Move it.” He slapped me on the ass, and I squealed.
“Okay. Okay,” I agreed. I perused each of the clothing racks one last time before making my final decision on which of the four outfits I would wear.
Double left the room while I prepared for my shower.
While I preferred the luxury of the primary bathroom, for the sake of time, I stripped down and hopped in the shower in the guest bathroom.
After washing myself twice, I rinsed for a final time, stepped out, and toweled off.
Finding an almost empty bottle of my favorite body oil made me glad that I’d opted to leave a few of my things in the guest bedroom.
I moisturized, put on deodorant, and then slid into my underwear.
I looked at the outfit I’d decided on—tiny denim shorts; a matching denim bustier; and a sheer, light-blue, floor-length duster with a denim collar, denim at the cuffs, denim piping on both plackets, and a denim belt at the waist. It was cute but revealing.
I was never a “revealing clothing” girly.
Apparently, though, my man wanted to see some skin, so I would show him some skin.
When I was finally dressed, I began the walk across the house from the guest bedroom to the primary bedroom. Double happened to already be standing in the living room, which shortened my walk.
“Well, damn!” he said appreciatively when he spotted me. “Damn. We might not make it out the house with you lookin’ like this. Got all my damn thigh meat on display. You didn’t like the jeans?”
I had to laugh. “The jeans were fine, but I felt like this”— I gestured up and down myself —“made a statement.”
“It does. It says that my wife is trying to get bent over in the living room before we leave out.”
“This is festival clothing, Double. All of the outfits were festival clothing. Are we going to a festival?”
“This is my secret. Actually, I have more than one secret because I got you a gift.”
“A gift? Why?”
He bent down slightly and kissed my lips. “Because you’re mine to spoil however I want to.”
I smiled.
“And because I wanna celebrate your new position at Passion’s Project.”
“Technically, I don’t have the position. I have to design this Halloween sneaker ball before your grandparents can actually make a decision.”
“You got it,” he assured me. “Now come here.”
I stepped closer, and he picked up an oversized velvet box from the console table next to where we stood. I watched in silence as he opened the lid, revealing a delicate gold necklace with a teardrop-shaped charm hanging from it.
“What is this?” My eyes were wide with surprise.
“You’re my September baby, and obviously, sapphires are your thing.
” He gestured toward my wedding ring. “I saw this necklace, and it was all . . . dainty, and it had this unique peachy, caramel-colored stone hanging from it. I asked my Aunt Summer what the stone was, and when she told me that it was a cream sapphire, I knew it was yours.”
My hand flew to my mouth, and I stared at it. It was so beautiful.
“Turn around.”
I quickly turned around so that he could put it on me. Once he was done fastening the clasp, I reached for the stone, taking it in my fingers. “I’ve never seen a sapphire this color. It’s gorgeous.”
“You’re gorgeous, Sweetheart. It reminded me of you—of your skin. It’s unique and beautiful, just like you.”
I stood on tiptoe and puckered my lips so he would know to kiss me. His lips were soft on top of mine. “Let’s go. I still have some surprises in store for you.”
I was surprised when Double took us into the downtown area of the city.
I had been living in Chicago for two months and had only been downtown in passing.
It was early April, so the temperature was cool, but it was exhilarating.
The big buildings, the lights, the traffic, and the people.
It was after 7:00 p.m., and there were still crowds of people on the street.
Double and I ate a delicious sushi dinner then held hands as we fast walked down the street. Not even a block from the restaurant, he slowed to a stop. I looked up and saw the marquee for the place we were about to enter. It read, “Tonight: King Cobra.”
“Oh my goodness!” I squeaked, already starting to fangirl. “Oh my goodness! You’re bringing me to see King Cobra? I love him. He’s my favorite artist.” Tears pooled in my eyes at the thought of seeing a musical artist from home.
People hustled past us toward the venue as I stood there, fighting back tears. “Yes, Sweetheart. Even though I gave you some pushback about going back to the island, that doesn’t mean that I can’t bring some of the island to you.”
I threw my arms around his neck and held on. His arms wrapped around my waist, and he held me while I softly cried. After a few minutes, he spoke softly in my ear. “Let’s go inside and find our seats. It’s cold out here, and you’re not dressed for the weather. I’m not tryna have you end up sick.”
“You’re right. Let’s go inside.”
Double took my hand and led me inside. When I saw a vendor selling merch, I had to stop.
The colors arrested me because they were the colors of home—deep yellows, vibrant greens and reds, sunset oranges, and ocean blues.
Double purchased a hoodie, a travel cup, and a tote bag for me.
We stepped into the auditorium, and he showed the usher his phone screen, which held images of the e-tickets.
We walked for what seemed like forever, and I definitely wasn’t surprised when we ended up in the center section on the third row.
“Wow,” I said as I settled into my seat. I set my purchases on the floor in front of me and hugged Double. “Thank you for doing this. Thank you for giving me a little taste of home.”
“You gave up a lot to come here, Sweetheart. I know your back was against the wall, and you didn’t have a choice, but that doesn’t minimize the sacrifice or the loss.”
A lone tear slid slowly down my cheek at the idea that this man saw me. Even though the days of me crying for twenty-four hours straight had ended, he knew I was still mourning the loss of everything familiar. That touched my heart. So did the fact that he kissed the tear away.
“I just wanted to give you back a little bit of Iredia, . . . even if it’s only for tonight,” he continued.
“I’ll take it,” I told him.
When King Cobra took the stage and belted his first notes over the reggaeton beats, my hips swung with a mind of their own.
I sang, danced, shouted, screamed, and slow wined.
A few times, I felt like King Cobra and I made eye contact, but I told myself that I was tripping.
With the glare from the lights, I was almost positive that there was no way he could make out individual faces in the crowd.
Double indulged me to the fullest during the show. If I stood on the chair, wrapped my arm around his neck, and started to sway, he swayed right along with me. If I twerked my booty on him, he slapped my ass. By the time the show ended, I was both exhausted and exhilarated.
“Yes!” I grinned up at the sweetest husband on Earth. “That was so good. I really needed that.”
He grinned back at me. “I’m glad I was able to do this for you.”
We were shuffling out of the row behind the crowd when a big, burly dude wearing a suit approached us. “Excuse me,” he said. “Your presence is being requested. Would you follow me?”
“Our presence is being requested by who?” Double asked, immediately going into protective mode.
The guy leaned in close to Double. “The artist.”
“I know him,” I explained to Double. “He was a potential client before I left . . . came here.”
Double was silent for a second. “Okay,” he said finally, and the two of us followed the suited man.