Chapter 7 #2
“Of course. We wanted a lot of the same things. There wasn’t some horrible thing wrong with us.”
“But?”
I stared at myself in the mirror. “But… I kept waiting for it to feel like enough. I thought maybe that was what love was supposed to feel like when you got older. You know, safe and easy.”
My throat tightened before I could stop it.
“I thought what I had with Smoke was so intense because we were young and he was my first everything. Then Tyler asked me that question, and I realized I had spent all those years with him still knowing there was a way I had loved somebody before him that I had never loved him. I couldn’t marry him after that. ”
My mother stopped chewing completely. Her eyes filled with tears as she stared at me from the doorway, and she quickly covered her mouth with the hand that still held a few pieces of popcorn. She shook her head and blinked hard before setting the bowl down and coming over to me.
“Oh, baby.” She pulled me against her before I could say anything else and held me tight, rubbing one hand slowly up and down my back. “You did the right thing.”
I closed my eyes and held on to her. “It didn’t feel like it.”
“I know.” She kissed the side of my head and held me a little tighter. Her voice was thick when she spoke again. “Doing the right thing doesn’t always feel good, especially when doing it means hurting somebody you never wanted to hurt.”
I blinked quickly, softly pulling away to look in the mirror before I messed up the makeup I had already done. “Now I’m back here, and Smoke and I are doing whatever the hell we’re doing, and I got the promotion.”
My mother squeezed my hand. “So?”
I looked at her like she had eight heads. “So his entire life is here, and my job isn’t.”
She stared at me for a second before replying. “Did Sherrod tell you to turn down the promotion?”
“He doesn’t know about it.”
“Did he tell you he expects you to stay in Bellhaven? Did he ask you to quit your job?”
“No, none of that.”
“Then why are you having an argument with that man when he ain’t even in the room?” I opened my mouth, closed it again, and she smiled. “You keep talking like somebody told you that you can only have one or the other.”
“It’s not that simple. The position means more travel. I would never ask him to walk away from everything he’s built, and I’m not giving up everything I worked for either.”
“Then don’t.”
I frowned. “What does that even mean?”
“It means stop deciding what won’t work before you even ask what can work.” I stared at her. That damn sermon came right back to me. “You did enough deciding for both of you the first time, and I’m not saying that to make you feel bad, baby.”
“I hurt him so bad, Mama.”
“You were young. You thought you were doing what you needed to do.” My mother kissed the top of my head.
“Take the job if you want the job. Love that man if you love that man. You just need to sit down with him and figure out what comes next like two grown people who love each other.” She gave me a wink as she walked toward my bedroom door.
I finished my makeup, touched up my hair, and got dressed.
I had no intention of showing up at Smoke’s house looking like I had thrown on whatever was closest, so I chose a fitted chocolate brown knit dress that hugged every curve I had, gold Gucci studs, layered bracelets, and a pair of cream heeled boots.
My bun was still slicked from earlier, so I just fixed my edges, and I was done.
I looked good, and that improved my mood considerably.
I gave myself one last look in the mirror before grabbing my bag and heading downstairs.
The neckline showed enough cleavage to make the dress worth wearing without looking like I was headed to a club.
My mother was back in the living room watching television, and after I promised to have Anthony bring her a plate, I kissed her cheek and left to catch my Uber.
The quick ride to Smoke’s gave me enough time to get out of my own head.
The driver had a good playlist going, and I cracked the window to let some cool air in.
I tried to focus on the fact that I was about to spend Sunday evening cooking with Smoke, Anthony, and Keyana for the first time in eight years.
By the time I pulled up in front of his house and walked onto the porch, my heart was pounding. Smoke opened the door before I finished knocking. His eyes dropped to my chest immediately. I smiled, adjusting my purse on my shoulder. “Hi.”
He took his time running his eyes over me from head to toe before leaning against the door. “You brought yo’ ass over here to cook dressed like this?”
The way he said it made heat creep up my neck. “I can cook in a dress.”
“I ain’t say you couldn’t.” Smoke stepped aside and let me in, his eyes dropping over me one more time before he closed the door. “I’m just wonderin’ how much cookin’ we actually gon’ get done wit’ you walkin’ ‘round my kitchen lookin’ edible as fuck.”
I shook my head and walked farther into the house, removing my brown leather trench coat and purse. Everything looked exactly where it belonged, and the whole downstairs smelled freshly cleaned. I glanced toward the spotless kitchen, then back at Smoke. “Did you clean?”
His face barely changed as he hung my stuff up on the hooks by the door. “My house stay clean. Fuck you mean?”
“Uh-huh.” I smiled and kept walking toward the kitchen because I knew damn well there was regular clean and then there was expecting company clean. I stopped when I saw all of the food spread across the island. “You bought all this?”
“Yeah.”
“There’s only four of us.” I laughed as I took a seat on one of the stools. “What are we making?”
“What we always made.”
I looked at him for a second before it clicked. “Loaded spaghetti?”
“Wit’ the hamburger and spicy Italian sausage,” he confirmed, nodding his head. “Fried chicken and cornbread too.”
A smile spread across my face before I could stop it. “Honey butter cornbread?”
Smoke looked at me like I had asked something stupid. “What other kind we used to make?”
“From scratch?”
“Lace.”
“I was just making sure.” I slid off the stool and walked around the island, already moving toward the sink to wash my hands. “Because if you bought a box of Jiffy, I was leaving.”
“You see a fuckin’ box anywhere?” Smoke asked, and I laughed as he connected his phone to the speaker on the counter.
Old-school R&B filled the kitchen loud enough to make me smile. Within minutes, we had shit everywhere. The chicken was spread across one side of the island, flour and seasonings covered the other, and I had somehow gotten cornmeal on the front of my dress before the batter was even finished.
Smoke looked down at the mess on me and laughed. “I knew yo’ ass shouldn’ta wore that dress.”
“Shut up.” I dipped my fingers into the flour he was using for the chicken and swiped them across the front of his black T-shirt.
Smoke slowly looked down at the white streak before looking back at me. “Oh, you wanna fuck wit’ me?”
I backed away laughing when he reached for me, but I barely made it around the island before he caught me.
Smoke wrapped one arm around my waist and pulled me back against him while I tried to keep my flour-covered hands away from my dress.
“Smoke, stop,” I giggled. “You’re about to make me mess up my clothes! ”
“You started this shit.” He grabbed my ass through the dress with one hand and kissed the side of my neck while I laughed and tried to twist away from him.
The second his mouth moved higher, my laughing stopped.
I turned my head, and Smoke caught my mouth with his.
What started as a quick kiss turned into his tongue sliding against mine while his hand stayed firmly on my ass.
The oil popping loudly on the stove finally made me pull away. “Your chicken.”
“Fuck that chicken.”
I pushed against his chest, but Smoke stole another kiss before finally letting me go. I went back to the cornbread, smiling while he handled the chicken, and when the song changed to one we used to play all the time, I turned it up.
Smoke glanced at me. “You remember this shit?”
“Please. I played Smilez & Southstar out.”
“You used to love that Tell Me shit.”
“I still do.” I bobbed my head while I stirred the batter, and Smoke watched me long enough that I had to look over at him. “Why are you staring at me?”
“Keep doin’ what you was doin’.”
I laughed and bumped him with my hip when he came over to grab something from the cabinet beside me.
Smoke grabbed my waist instead, pulling my ass back against him for a few seconds while he moved with me to the music.
I could feel him getting hard against me, and I turned my head to look at him.
“We’re supposed to be cooking, Sherrod.”
“I am cookin’.”
“Your hands are on my ass.”
“I can multitask, baby.”
I laughed and shoved him away before I ended up bent over his island instead of finishing dinner.
Smoke went back to the stove, grinning, and I started the spaghetti sauce while the cornbread baked.
The hamburger and spicy Italian sausage browned together as Smoke fried the chicken, and soon the kitchen smelled exactly like our old Sundays.
Smoke reached past me and stole a piece of sausage straight from the pan. “Get out of my food.”
He ate it anyway, then leaned over and kissed me before I could fuss again. “Need more sausage. Pause.”
I giggled, shaking my head. “You just ate some.”
“In the sauce, smart ass.”
I rolled my eyes, but I added more while Smoke went back to the chicken.
A few minutes later, I tore off a piece of crispy skin from one of the finished pieces when he wasn’t looking and popped it into my mouth.
I reached for another piece just because he told me not to, and Smoke slapped my hand away.
I laughed and tried again, which ended with him catching my wrist and pulling me into him.
“You hardheaded as fuck.”
“You knew that already.”