Chapter 9 Moyo
Moyo
Shit.
I’m in a flurry, begging the old beast to shut down while putting sensitive documents in their rightful places. I rush to my car, still in my scrubs, and attempt to make it to a place twenty minutes away in five flat.
When I arrive seventeen minutes late, playing it cool while sneaking into the back of the hall, Mercury—who somehow looks better in person—spots me from the stage.
“And that’s our final guest! The festivities can begin! Remember, eat, drink, get to know one another. Your soulmate might be in this room,” they boom, and their voice reaches every corner of the packed room. They make a beeline to me, and all eyes turn to us. I want to shrink myself.
“Dr. Adegbite! It’s lovely to meet you in person.” Mercury smiles and graciously extends a hand.
I take it, scared of what the owners of those staring eyes will do to me if I don’t.
“Same here,” I say with a fake smile. “And please, it’s Moyo.”
Attention isn’t foreign to me—a big, curvy, beautiful, Black woman—but I’m uncomfortable when it’s not the attention I expect, and I don’t look my best. My pink scrubs are cozy, but they’re not the right outfit for this crowd. I wish I’d been in the mood to dress up today.
“Sorry I’m late. You didn’t have to wait for me,” I say quietly.
“Excuse me?” Mercury says, not hearing me over the chatter.
I’m about to repeat myself when another voice enters the conversation.
“Moyo, may I talk to you for a moment?” a steady, low-pitched voice says from above my head, and my body recognizes it before I do, sending a chill down my spine. Niyi.
I turn to face him, lifting my eyes to his face. I take in his set jaw and furrowed brows. Unsure of the reason for his presence, I tilt my head to the side and Niyi’s eyes track to the empty section of the room, revealing no specifics.
Guess I’ll see what he wants.
After excusing myself, Niyi and I walk to the back of the room, where it’s much quieter.
“You’re welcome,” he says smugly.
My head whips so fast it almost falls off. “Excuse you?”
“I saved you from Merc. You’re welcome,” he repeats, leaning against the wall with a dramatic sigh and a stupid smile on his face. Niyi’s casualness makes me do a double take. I came over because he looked worried. Not the other way around.
“No one saved me,” I scoff.
“You looked uncomfortable.”
“Still, no one saved me.” I ignore his astute observation. “And who calls them ‘Merc’?”
That makes him flounder. His mouth opens and closes repeatedly and starts multiple statements with “well,” “you see,” and “I,” but they all fizzle out like water on a hot pan. I can’t help but snicker, and he shoots me a look.
“It’s a nickname,” he finally gets out.
“I can tell.”
Niyi’s brown eyes fix on mine, shutting out the chatter around us. He can be smug and insufferable, but when he’s quiet and looking at me like this…
One corner of his mouth lifts slightly as a stranger walks up to us. His brown skin is lighter than mine, and he looks at me with a nearly perfect smile. My attention moves from Niyi to the new man.
“Hello,” he says coolly, leaning closer so the words land in my ear only.
“Hi,” I respond, enamored by the sharp curve of his jaw. He’s handsome.
“Maxwell.” He opens his mouth as if he wants to say more, but Niyi’s still standing here.
“Moyo,” I say. “Nice to meet you, Maxwell—”
“Likewise, I’m Niyi,” my prospective dating coach says, stretching a hand out to Maxwell.
“Oh, my bad. I thought y’all were done talking. I’ll go chat with someone else.” Pretty Maxwell gets through his words fast and evaporates from the vicinity before I can blink or stop him from going.
I call after him, but he’s already out of sight, lost in the sea of people that has somehow only gotten larger.
Niyi watches me steadily. “He’s not right for you,” he finally says.
“And how would you know that? You didn’t let him get a word in. I barely got to talk to him because of your interference.” I push a finger into his chest, and it’s rock solid. The sensation flusters me.
“He walked away from you just because I introduced myself. No man worth your time should feel that intimidated.”
“He was polite. I would like a polite, kind man, someone who doesn’t intimidate others just because he can.”
Niyi’s brows pinch together, eyes blanking before his face contorts into a scowl. “I didn’t set out to intimidate him,” he whispers as the crowd quiets down.
“You were enjoying it,” I whisper-yell back.
“I don’t want you to make a mistake.” He lowers his voice even more, getting closer to me.
His warm breath brushes against my cheek, and it’s fresh and minty, as if he brushed his teeth or took a swig of mouthwash just before this thing started.
Up close, I can see the details of his face even more clearly.
I thought Maxwell had a jawline, but if I needed to open some mail, I’d call Niyi.
His dark lips are sandwiched between his mustache and goatee.
The facial hair doesn’t connect, but it works. For him, it works.
His plump lips are moving, but I haven’t heard a word.
“Répétez, s’il vous pla?t,” I blurt out in French.
“French?” Niyi gives me a puzzled look.
I don’t have an explanation, so I go on the offensive. “You don’t speak French?”
“Of course I do.”
The smug look returns and his lovely brown eyes twinkle.
“Je ne suis pas très doué dans mon travail, mais je sais que c’est un gars peu s?r de lui qui ne te mérite pas.
Tu mérites quelqu’un qui t’honorera et te fera sentir aussi vivante que tu me fais sentir.
” He barrels through the words so fast, the only one I think I catch is “travail.”
“You rushed through it.”
“You don’t understand French? Do you?” Niyi teases, his eyes bright.
“I shall not dignify that baseless accusation with a response,” I bite back playfully, waving a hand in front of my lips to disguise my growing smile.
My knowledge of the language comes from the five years I took it in secondary school in Nigeria, and all mastery is long gone, but Niyi doesn’t need to know that.
I expect a retort, a comment of some sort, but instead, his lips repeat their earlier twitch—he’s fighting back a laugh. I want to say something, to continue our lighthearted quippy exchange, but Mercury’s voice fills the space once more and all heads turn to the stage.
“It’s lovely to see you all mingling. Now we’ll hear from some Cupid’s Bow couples and from our first coached pair, for all of you interested in our dating consultation program.” Some people take the stage and Mercury introduces them.
I’m almost at my seat before I notice I’m alone. I search for Niyi and find him pinned to the back wall. I shoot him a look that I hope conveys, “Why the fuck are you standing there? It’s time to sit down.”
He lifts off the wall and hurries to my side before the speakers begin. But when he gets to my side, he doesn’t sit down. Instead, he squats, and my attention is pulled to the way his thighs stretch his simple black pants. He’s so fi—No.
I refocus on the words coming from his lips.
“I have some other work to do, but this presentation will help you decide,” Niyi says for my hearing only.
“If you decide to work with me, I’ll see you again.
If not? It was lovely meeting you, Moyo.
I wish you all the best, and I sincerely hope you find love.
” He squeezes my shoulder on his way out.
The first speaker, a chirpy brunette, sits and details her love story while a man holds her hand.
His palm never leaves hers, and without knowing them, I can tell he longs to kiss the back of her hand, the urge eating him alive.
Public performance must not be typical for them because her words shake more than mine did during my first year at the hospital’s Foundation Gala.
But when she stops paying attention to the sea of onlookers and focuses on her lover, her words gain clarity and strength.
She finishes to thunderous applause, and he kisses her temple.
The way her shoulders slump into his frame, the way he cradles her, tells me everything I need to know.
I don’t even bother staying for the coaching presentation. My mind is made up.
I find Mercury standing among a group of people in impeccable suits and tell them I’ll do it.
Not because I want to work with Niyi, I don’t care about him and his muscles, but because of the love I saw on that stage.
I was kidding myself, pretending I would be fine with simply a companion.
Or with someone who doesn’t make my heart flutter simply by existing.
Seeing those two on the stage reminds me that love is out there.
It exists for others, and not just my parents.
Fear be damned. Cole and the Wife be damned.
I deserve to find someone, and I guess it starts now…again.