Chapter 3 #2
“Just overnight,” Ashley reassured me. “Unless something changes. Which… shouldn’t be the case.
” Looking away, she put her eyes on Orion and Luna before looking back to me.
“She really wants y’all to go home. She said, right now.
No lingering. No further questions. Go home.
” She smiled again. “Your mother is in good hands.” She looked back and forth between Orion and Luna when she said that.
Most likely noticing the worried expressions on their faces.
Nodding, I said, “Heard you.” Pausing, I ran my tongue over my bottom lip. “What can I do?”
“About what? Right now, you can go home and get some rest, like your mother said,” Ashley stated with raised brows.
I shook my head. “About everything. How can I make… how can I help?”
“She’s on a diet? Holistic, right?”
I nodded. “Yeah.”
“Keep her on it,” Ashley said with a soft squeeze to my arm. “And… rest. We’re doing what we can here. She’s a fighter. There is nothing you can do. Nothing for you to do. Besides what you’re already doing. Remember that.”
I gotta keep goin’… I gotta keep goin’… Why aren’t you smiling? Why aren’t you smiling? Life can get wild when… you’re caught in a whirlwind…
Hours later, I was up, back at the crib, getting ready to shower. Sleep didn’t come easy. I spent most of the night tossing and turning, worrying about moms, when that was the last thing I should have been doing. I had shit to handle, and she didn’t like for us to worry. Couldn’t help it though.
The soft, sultry voice of Jhene Aiko radiated through the surround sound speakers in my house as I stepped into the shower.
Jhene Aiko W.A.Y.S. It was on repeat. I’d been playing it heavily since seeing the tattoo on Mahogany’s thigh, looking for her within the lyrics.
She was a layered woman. I could see and feel how unhappy she was in the pictures I saw on her IG before we met but nothing compared to what I felt when I listened to the song for the first time.
I understood. Why she got it tatted. The song was feminine, but the lyrics resonated with me.
A past version of me, at least. The version of myself who I was when Nova passed away.
As I listened, I wondered what had happened in Mahogany’s life for it to resonate with her.
Sure, she was unhappy with her marriage but why not a song about heartbreak?
I closed the shower door and stood underneath the waterfall showerhead.
I was getting ready to go to Couture. Had a meeting with Shar.
A second meeting. The first was spent with me distracted by the people walking by the office.
Every time someone walked by, I looked up, hoping it would be Mahogany.
I hadn’t seen her. Not since our last meeting.
The one where I threatened to sever ties with her if Shar ended up not being a good fit.
I wasn’t that much of an asshole. I’d give her a couple of chances.
But based on the first meeting… she wouldn’t last long.
My fixation with Mahogany did get in the way of me accepting Shar but it wasn’t just that.
She was incompetent. She didn’t live up to my standards.
The first meeting her eyes were shifty. Not like Mahogany’s when she shied away.
Shar’s intimidation wasn’t cute. She stammered over words and lacked confidence.
Working with her was very unfulfilling. But…
I told myself to chill. To give her a chance, despite wanting to look over at her.
Mahogany.
Shit, I missed her. Missed our friendly banter and her witty comebacks.
Missed the way she focused. Missed the smell of her perfume.
Missed her smile. It was fleeting, but it was gorgeous.
Missed the way she put hair behind her ear.
Missed seeing her pretty little toes sink into the carpet of her office when she got comfortable enough to take her heels off.
Wanted to hear more about her take on color theory and design in general.
Wanted to watch her full lips move when she talked about it.
I was gone.
A little too gone for my liking. I wanted Mahogany bad as fuck. But I couldn’t chase her. I wasn’t the type. I was the go with the flow type of nigga, remember? She would be back. And when she came back, I wanted it to be organic, not because I’d forced my way into her life.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Carter.”
Chucking my chin, I spoke to Claire. “Good afternoon, Claire. You alright?”
About two hours later, I was at Couture.
“Yes, I’m well. How are you? Here to see Shardae, correct?”
I nodded. Unfortunately.
“I’m good. Yep, you’ve got it. Shardae.”
She nodded and lifted the phone from its receiver to call up. While she did that, I leaned on the counter and looked around, hoping to see Mahogany. It would be nice to bump into her. Work hadn’t hit the same since we parted ways.
“She’s ready for you. Would you like anything before you head up?” Claire offered with a smile.
I shook my head. “No thank you. I’m all set.”
On my way to the elevator, I heard her name.
‘Good morning, Mrs. M.’ I stopped in my stride and looked over my shoulder.
She was at the reception desk. Her eyes met mine and I sent a subtle head nod.
She gave a soft smile, looked away, and that hand went to the nape of her neck.
Instead of getting on the elevator when it opened, I stood there and waited.
Watched as her eyes averted over to me and back to Claire every few seconds.
She was stalling. I didn’t have all day but to be in closed corners with Mahogany, I’d make Shar wait.
After standing there for a good five minutes, an associate walked over and asked if I needed anything. I nodded toward Mahogany. I needed her, for sure.
“Waiting to speak with Mahogany,” I said before flicking my wrist to check the time.
My meeting with Shar started three minutes ago. I didn’t give a fuck. Mahogany was avoiding me, and I hated that shit.
A couple of seconds later, she walked away from the reception desk and my eyes swept over her body.
She was wearing a cream-colored pantsuit.
One that hugged her curves to perfection.
The heels she wore were high—a little too high for work.
Later, her feet would hurt. I listened as the sound of them click-clacked against the waxed floor.
Watched as her hips swayed from right to left, smooth like butter. Sultry like a symphony.
“Good morning, Mahogany,” I spoke once she was in earshot.
She smiled again. “Crescent. How are you?”
Subtly, I inhaled. She smelled soft. Like vanilla and cashmere. I wanted my face buried in the side of her neck. Wanted it between her thick thighs too. But…
“Great,” I said as I turned to push the up button on the elevators panel. “You?”
Slightly, she swung her purse to the front and gripped the handle with both hands. With a smile that didn’t reach her eyes, she said, “Good.”
She wasn’t good. I could sense the lie the minute she spoke it.
I surveyed her. Eyed her up and down. Slowly.
Softly. With intention. Something was off.
She didn’t have a hair out of place. It was pulled back into a tight bun.
Her makeup was flawless. She wore long eyelashes that if I wasn’t paying attention, would have hid her sad eyes.
Something was wrong. My eyes landed on her hands again.
The grip she had around the strap said she was stressed.
Everything about her body language told me she was.
But then, I wondered if it was me. Wondered if I shouldn’t have waited.
Maybe I was coming off too strong. Too persistent.
Clearing my throat, I gestured for her to step onto the elevator first once the doors opened. She gave me a tightlipped smile and walked on.
“You sure?” I asked, after hitting her floor number on the keypad before hitting Shar’s.
“Hm?” She asked.
“Are you sure?”
“Am I sure what?”
“That you’re good.”
We locked eyes. Her glossed over a bit. Instantly, I knew it wasn’t about me. How stressed she was. It was about something else. My mind instantly went to her husband. The look behind her eyes… the emptiness… it reminded me of the pictures I had seen of them on her IG.
“Yes,” she lied before quickly looking away, brushing her thumb over her purse strap.
Was I supposed to dig? Should I have asked more?
Told her I could tell she wasn’t okay? I couldn’t do that.
Wouldn’t. We’d already overstepped major lines, and she wasn’t on that type of time with me.
I was trying my hardest to keep shit cordial between us.
If Mahogany wanted to pretend she was okay, I’d let her.
I didn’t have any other choice but to. She’d already transferred me to another designer because we’d gotten too close.
I felt like… shit… if I made the wrong move, she’d take every precaution known to man to avoid me.
And well… I didn’t want that. I needed to see her.
Needed to have moments like this. Quiet moments on the elevator.
Her mind swimming with thoughts I wanted to read.
Mine swimming with thoughts of her. Thoughts of wanting to draw closer.
Thoughts of the last and first time we were together.
Thoughts of wanting to fix whatever was wrong.
It was quiet.
Too quiet. With five more floors to go.
“I miss having you on as my designer, Mo,” I admitted. I blurted out against my will. She made me like that. Slow to think, quick to react. “Miss listening to you talk about shit like colors… fabrics…flow.”
She didn’t say anything. Shifted around a bit. Took a deep breath. Brushed that thumb against her purse strap again.
“I miss the smell of your perfume,” I continued. “Miss—”
“Okay,” she whispered. “Stop.”
I watched as her throat moved up and down with a swallow.