Chapter 11 #2
The bouquet is so beautiful. When I finally leave for the day four hours and three meetings later, I take them home with me and place them on the mantle in my living room.
My normal after work routine begins and I’m soaking in my tub fifteen minutes later, scrolling the Munchies app for tonight and tomorrow’s dinner.
The shrimp diavolo pasta I ordered from Taste of Italy Monday is gone.
I finished it last night. I swear pasta always tastes better the second day.
My scrolling is interrupted by a notification from the very app I’m on.
What the hell? I open the notification and it’s a gift box with a message.
A Munchies gift from Shiro Bako is coming your way! Open to track your delivery.
When I click to open, a smile immediately graces my face.
He ordered Abuelito’s for me. A delicious Mexi-Cobb salad, guacamole, and fresh tortilla chips are twenty-eight minutes away.
With my dinner decided and on its way thanks to him, I enjoy the rest of my bath, get out, wash and moisturize my face, slide into a pair of comfy pajamas, then journey downstairs to make a cup of tea to go with my food.
Today deserves cherry blossom white tea with dehydrated cherries.
Right after my tea is brewed and in my cup, the doorbell rings. I check the camera and see my food has been left in the delivery drop box on my porch. Best investment ever. It’s waterproof and perfect for small packages and food deliveries.
I retrieve my food and bring it into the kitchen.
I tackle the guacamole and chips first, scooping a chip into the small tub of the heavenly guac.
I find my salad storage container next, lining it with two paper towels and placing half of the huge salad in there for tomorrow.
Then I spend the next hour on my chaise enjoying my dinner and watching the original A Different World.
I’m on season two because season one wasn’t my favorite.
As I take my salad container and the small amount of chips and guac back into the kitchen, I hear my cell ringing so I double back. It’s Alex. I haven’t talked to her since she got back last night.
“Hey,” I answer.
“What’s up, Laila Ali?” she says with too much damn laughter.
“Reya talks too damn much.” Clearly, she told Alex about my weekend.
“Don’t blame her. I called to check on our godbabies and she told me you spent Saturday night with them. The conversation just unfolded from there.”
“She still talks too damn much,” I say as I place the guacamole in the fridge. “I’m embarrassed as shit and just want to forget it. The old me came out and I couldn’t control her.”
“So you weren’t going to tell me?” she asks, sounding offended.
“You know I was but I’m sure my version is less salacious than hers,” I say with a grin. We’re sistas; there are no secrets among us.
“I want all the salacious details. Don’t hold shit back from me; give me every slap. I have my popcorn and everything. I’m ready,” she says and I smirk.
“You and that damn truffle oil popcorn.”
“Truffle and chili oil. It’s a must. After a long ass day, I need my damn popcorn. Don’t knock it until you try it. Now start with you cooking, ’cause girl.”
She laughs and so do I. She loves to wear me out about my cooking. I start from the beginning of my tragic Saturday, giving her every detail. She interrupts a few times with her usual commentary but I get through it all and end with Shiro’s texts, flowers, and dinner delivery.
“That man said fuck your space. You are his and he’s still going to love on you even when you want time apart. I really like him. How long are you going to punish him for his omission?”
“I’m not punishing him; I’m teaching him a lesson,” I counter.
“Okay, Miss Dean but don’t do it too damn long. Sounds like the trick was properly punished and she’s the true culprit, talking that slick shit. You beat her ass and he fired her. She got exactly what she deserved, but Shiro…what? It’s been four days. Give that man a break.”
“I’ll let him off the hook soon enough. I promise it won’t be much longer because he’s definitely securing his place in my heart and life.
He’s not calling but he’s doing everything else to make his presence and feelings known.
Besides, I love and actually miss him,” I admit, then figure out a way to see him.
Fridays, when I’m at FNF, he sometimes goes to his brother’s club.
“Friday, after FNF, let’s go to Deuce’s. It’s grown and sexy that night.”
“You and I can definitely go. You know Giselle won’t go and Reya isn’t going to come. They have hookah, right?”
“Yeah, they do,” I say.
“We can and I’ll get Travis to take us,” she says, referring to her part-time driver.
“Even better. I can drink freely.”
“It’s a plan then. I’ll let you get back to your night and I’ll get back to my delicious popcorn. Good night, sis.”
“Good night.”
I end the call, brew myself another cup of tea—a calming berry blend—then clean my counters.
I walk back into the living room, turn the television off and place my comfy throw on the back of the chaise.
As I ascend the stairs, I take a few sips of tea.
My plan is to be asleep within an hour and this tea and a melatonin always does the trick.
Once I’m in bed, propped up on my pillows and back into an episode of A Different World, my cell vibrates and I smile, already knowing who texted me.
Him: Have a good night, baby.
My smile remains on my face as I sip my tea and watch my show. My eyes get heavy before the episode ends and I’m out before ten.