11. Soleil
SOLEIL
Three Weeks Later
The time had finally come for Spencer and me to have our first date in Chicago.
We had been communicating through phone calls and video chats.
He had been busy with his commitment to his daughter, and I kept myself busy with work.
He’d asked me a couple of times to get together, but I refused to infringe on his time with his little girl.
I knew how possessive I was over my own father as a daddy’s girl.
I wanted to give Mikayla the same space to not have to share her father’s attention.
It seemed like the moment his plane landed back at O’Hare after he left Mikayla with her mom, he was on my line, setting up a date.
On a hot Saturday afternoon in July, I donned the pretty, soft-pink summer dress with the deep pink, green, and yellow florals that he’d sent me, along with strappy sandals.
When he rang the bell, I stepped out onto my front porch. I smiled at the smile that lit up his handsome face. “Damn, look at you.”
“Thank you for the dress. Like I told you before, I love it. I think it looks better on than it did on the hanger.”
“It looks better on you than it did in my mind, . . . and I’m a very visual dude.
” He licked his lips, and my thighs clinched.
“Come here, girl. I’ve waited weeks to hug all up on you.
I’ve been patient, so give me my reward.
” He pulled me into his arms, and I melted into him as he buried his face in my neck.
“I missed you,” he mumbled, and the vibration from his words tickled me a little.
“I missed you, too.” I squeezed him harder.
“You ready?” He released me from his embrace, reluctantly.
“Yeah.”
We held hands as we walked to his truck.
He opened the door for me and waited for me to secure myself in the seat before he closed the door.
My heart damn near floated out of my chest. Spencer was being the same man in real life that he’d been on the island.
That did my nervous system good because I had spent our time apart hoping that it wasn’t his representative that I met in Iredia.
“Where are we going?” I asked once he settled into the driver’s seat. “Or is it a surprise?”
“Nah, it’s not a surprise. I’m not a native Chicagoan.
You know that. The way I experience the city is probably different from how you experience it.
You probably have your certain areas and neighborhoods you frequent.
You have your favorite places. Everything, for me, is a new discovery.
I thought it would be cool if I show you Chicago through my eyes.
The places that grabbed my attention and held it since I’ve been here.
Maybe on another date, you can show me the city through the eyes of somebody who grew up here. ”
I smiled. “I love that idea. How long have you been here?”
“Four years, but trust me when I say that I’m still new to the city. I feel like every time I turn around, I’m finding a new spot, a new place that I like.”
We rode in companionable silence from my place in the South Loop to the North Side of the city.
The radio provided the soundtrack while I soaked up the familiarity of being with him after spending several weeks apart.
We drove to the Lincoln Park neighborhood.
Once we parked, we walked hand in hand down Clark Street, which was a very busy block in the neighborhood.
“When I was drafted, my very first apartment was in this area. It was cool because Lincoln Park is walkable, and there’s a lot to see and do.”
“And it’s relatively safe,” I added.
“There’s that. Some of everything is over here. It’s just crowded as hell.”
“This is true,” I agreed.
“I always liked art, but the fact that there’s an art gallery on every corner in this neighborhood really allowed me to explore and figure out exactly what kind of art I geared toward.”
And with that, he pulled me into a place called The Clark Street Collective.
As soon as we entered the space, I was face to face with colorful displays and beautiful imagery of the black diaspora—paintings of women in colorful garb with baskets on their heads, charcoal sketches of children sitting on urban stoops, watercolors, sculpture, and photography.
I started to speak, not even realizing that my jaw had dropped. “What is this place? Are these works for sale? Is it an exhibit?”
“The work is for sale. This gallery works with black artists across all mediums to display their work. Like I said, I try to buy as often as I can to support black artisans. Kinda like how you wanted to support the vendors in Iredia.”
“I get it,” I assured him. “I definitely want to see if something catches my eye.” The two of us walked slowly through the gallery.
So many pieces caught my eye and spoke to me that I couldn’t even choose just one, and I couldn’t really afford to purchase more than one.
While I was mentally calculating exactly how much I could spend, Spencer stopped walking.
“I think this is her.”
I looked up at the painting—muted watercolors—a black woman walking in the middle of what, to me, looked like a block party, wearing an ivory-colored sundress with colorful florals on it. “She’s gorgeous.”
“She damn sure is.”
After he purchased the piece he wanted, Spencer and I spent a few hours going in and out of every boutique and store that caught our eye. By the time the sun started its descent, I was starving. Spencer drove us to his place, where he had hired a private chef to come in and make dinner for us.
“It’s our first date in . . . I don’t know, real life?” He set our bags down beside the sofa. “I didn’t want either of us to have to stress or plan. At the resort, it kind of felt like we were moving toward some kind of ‘one-up’ situation.”
“Did it? I didn’t get that.”
“I don’t mean like we were trying to show each other up. I mean more like we both wanted to show each other that what we felt was real, even though everything moved at the speed of light.”
“It did move fast.”
“But it’s no less real.” He bent and kissed my lips.
“Nope. You still got me messed up.”
He kissed me again. “Ay, I know exactly where I want to put the painting I bought. Come on.” He picked up the painting.
It wasn’t overly large, probably eleven by fourteen, but it was striking.
I followed him down a hallway to his bedroom.
The space was large and masculine, but there was also a warmth.
It was the warmth that Spencer always seemed to bring with him, the warmth of a person who was genuine and had a good heart.
“I love this room. It’s very you.”
He turned his head and looked back at me. “How so?”
I shrugged my shoulders. “It’s very . . . calming. Peaceful.”
He shot me a smile before making his way to the wall that was across from the bed. “I’m thinking right here.” He held the picture up to the wall to assess.
I nodded approvingly, moving close to him. “I like it.”
He set the painting down on the floor gingerly, then pulled me into his arms. “I missed you.”
“I missed you too.”
His mouth came down on top of mine, and soon, we were kissing. We kissed, and kissed, and kissed, and kissed. Incessant buzzing at his wrist interrupted us. He checked his watch. “Uh, our dinner is ready. I’m thinkin’, fuck that dinner.”
“But I’m starving,” I whined.
He chuckled, grabbing me by the hand. “Come on, little hungry-ass girl. Let’s go eat. Then we can finish what you tried to start.”
“Oh, I tried to start it?”
He led me out to the balcony of his living room where the chef had set the table in a way that was very reminiscent of Iredia.
I slid into the seat opposite him and looked out at the view.
It was nothing like the view from the resort.
That view had encompassed a tropical island.
This view was very “city,” but it was beautiful and comfortable, nonetheless.
“Chicago is such a pretty city,” I said. “This view is everything.”
I could feel Spencer’s gaze on me when he spoke. “Damn sure is.”
“Stop it.” I giggled.
The chef came out on the balcony and set a plate in front of each of us. It was a delicious looking salad.
“Listen, lil’ hungry girl. I’m back in training mode, so the food’s gonna be different from the stuff we were eating in Iredia every day. It’s still gonna be good, but it has to be—”
I held up my hand. “I get it. I’m cool with that.” I gazed over at him sitting across the table from me looking handsome. “Honestly? I don’t really care what I eat. I just wanna be eating it with you.”
“Damn, Sun. Talk your shit.”
I giggled again before reaching my hands toward his so he could pray over the food.
“Dear God, thank You for this meal. Thank You for the hands that prepared it. May it be used for the nourishment of our bodies. And thank You that You took the time to position both myself and Soleil in the right place, at the right time, so that we might meet each other. Amen.”
“Amen,” I agreed. “Now that was a word. Because I tried to give that trip to my daddy, and you had to be bribed into coming.”
We both laughed.
“If either of us had bailed on that trip, we wouldn’t be here right now.”
We finished up our salads in a comfortable silence. The chef returned with our dinner. “I have for you,” he said, “sun-dried tomato and goat-cheese-stuffed chicken breast over a bed of lemon and herb quinoa. On the side, we have roasted sweet potatoes and steamed broccolini. Enjoy.”
Once the chef was out of earshot, Spencer looked across the table at me. “While I was in South Carolina, with some distance between us, . . . I had time to really consider how fast we came together.”
“Same—I mean, while I was here at home.”
“Things happened fast. The connection happened fast, but I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that. How do you feel?”
“I mean, after sitting with it, . . . thinking about how much I missed our . . . connection while you were in South Carolina and I was here,”—I blew out a deep breath,—“I think everything with us happened in the time it was supposed to happen in. Honestly, at first, I did wonder if it was proximity. We were under each other a lot at the resort. We didn’t really spend time with anybody but each other. Still, I think this is real, Spence.”
“My feelings for you are definitely real, Sunshine. Even Harmony was fucking with me about you. She accused me of cheesing at your text messages.”
I laughed aloud.
“She said any woman that had me smiling like that has to be something special.” He shook his head.
“I can’t lie, though. The way you had me—the way we were together in Iredia—is atypical.
That’s not my average, everyday life. You got vacation Spence.
Real-life Spence’s life is way different.
I’m at Hickory Hall, the Coyotes’ headquarters.
I’m at the gym. I’m at meetings. I’m at practice.
I’m at games. I’m on the run. When I have a little downtime, I’m tryna be in South Carolina with my baby girl. ”
“Are you tryin’ to warn me that there’s really no time for me?”
“What?” His eyes bugged. “Hell nah. There’s always time for what’s important.
I’m just trying to give you an understanding.
We’ve gotten to spend a lot of time together, chilling.
That’s a season. That’s summer. Football season is a different beast. Life with me can be feast or famine.
My woman has to understand the need to be flexible and have the ability to pivot.
I don’t want you to get caught up in this .
. . false narrative. I don’t want shit to be sweet in early July, then you start to resent me in November when I’m in the thick of the season, and my job is . . . jobbing.”
I chortled. “Just so you know, you’ve been spending time with vacation Soleil.
Back-to-school season is a nightmare at my job.
Every school in the greater Chicagoland area wants to kick off the school year with some type of “Healthy Habits” program.
It’s still warm enough for the kids to get outside, so they request players to come out and get the kids motivated.
Then there’s the holiday season.” I smirked at him.
“I don’t think I’ll be too bored when you’re busy.
And when you leave Hickory Hall at night, all tired and stressed, I can come over and provide a different kind of workout. ”
He licked his full lips. “Get fucked in front of the chef if you want to.”
We both laughed. “Nah,” I said. “I appreciate the heads up, but if you wanna try this, . . . I wanna try this.”
“I definitely wanna try this, Sun. I went three weeks without my Sun, and I didn’t like that shit.”
“Same.”