CHAPTER 18
Gabrielle
Tyson gets up from the table to collect our plates.
As he takes my plate, I get a whiff of his mesmerizing cologne and his overall smell.
He smells like a manly man – his scent reminds me of a rich, orangey, woodsy smell, mixed with body wash or whatever he’s wearing.
Gosh, it smells good. I’m truly spellbound.
“Are you ready for dessert, my lady?”
I snap out of my trance and look at him.
He’s heading back this way with dessert and two small plates.
After he sets the plates on the table, he says, “I know you’re going to ask, so I’ll tell you what this is.
These are what you call puff pastries, filled with vanilla pudding, homemade of course, and topped with mixed berries. ”
“Sounds delicious,” I say. Holding it like a cupcake, I take a big bite. Again, he’s made another delectable dessert. His hands are like magic. Everything he touches turns to gold. I don’t think there’s nothing he can’t do.
And he’s doing this all for me.
I don’t feel worthy of his time and attention.
I don’t deserve to be spoiled. To live softly.
I’m grateful for it temporarily, but I don’t want to get used to this kind of treatment.
I know how men are now – how they can truly be behind closed doors, but Tyson is one of the good ones.
All my life I’ve had to worry about bills, food, clothes, shelter, my father, and my sisters.
I had to think about how we were going to make it from one day to the next with little means.
Worry and anxiety are all I know. I don’t know, nor do I want to get accustomed to the life he could give me.
“Well?”
“It’s magical, Tyson.”
He grins. “I wouldn’t go that far.”
“I would. Everything you make is a masterpiece.”
I watch him smile and finish his pastry in one huge mouthful. He has a healthy appetite, and I realize he loves eating just as much as he loves cooking.
“Thank you for cooking this fabulous dinner.”
“You’re welcome as always.”
While I finish my first pastry dessert, he starts on another one, consuming it greedily, then smiles at me again.
“I’ve been thinking,” he says. “After everything you’ve been through with my cousin, you need an outlet, you know, something to take your mind off things.”
“I’ll be working soon, so that will help.”
“No, not work–something you’ll enjoy. Something that relieves stress.”
“What is that for you?”
“Every morning at 6:00 a.m., I get up to walk and jog on the beach. It gives me time to think. To enjoy nature. To realize there’s something out there greater than I am. It helps me understand my purpose.”
“Maybe I should try that. I would’ve loved walking on the beach at Dilvan’s house, but he didn’t like me out there.”
“Well, you’re free to go any time here.”
“Okay. Since you go at 6:00 a.m., I’ll wait until you get back and go around seven-ish.”
“Or you could just come with me.”
I look him dead in the eyes and that thing he does with them – jeez, I can’t even describe it. It’s like a twinkle. Like a smile. And I think he knows what he’s doing, too.
I say, “Oh, no. I can’t–I won’t interfere with your personal time.”
“You won’t. Come with me in the morning. We’ll run together.”
I’m reluctant to go. If he’s been using this as his outlet for years, I really would hate to intrude. Besides, I can barely get up before noon. Now, I have to get up at five-something in the morning?
“I won’t take no for an answer.”
“Then, it’s settled,” I say, watching his face light up.
“Good.”
“What time is it now?” I ask as I look around for the nearest clock. “Oh...8:37 p.m.”
“It’s still early,” Tyson says.
“I need to unpack my bags before I prepare for bed.”
“Cool. I’m going to clean up here.”
“Ugh...where are my manners? I can help you clean up here.”
“You will do no such thing. I’m just going to throw these few dishes in the dishwasher, and I’m done.”
“Are you sure, Tyson, because I would love to help?”
“I’m sure, Bri.”
“All right, then I’m going to head upstairs.”
* * *
I tried on all the dresses Padma bought for me today, just to see if I still like them before cutting off the tags. The beautiful beach dresses fit me as well as they did when I tried them on in the store, even after the meal I just ate. So, I clip the tags and hang the dresses in the closet.
After taking a shower, I’m back in my room, sitting on the bed, bored out of my mind and wondering what Tyson is up to.
I’m becoming accustomed to being here, living with him, enjoying his company, and his skillful cooking.
He’s pleasant to be around, and I know it’s dangerous for me to feel this way about him since I’m still married, but I know Tyson has no interest in a woman my age.
My immaturity and inexperience are no match for a distinguished man like him.
Still, I enjoy his company. When I’m with him, I’m not afraid to be myself.
He accepts me for who I am, which is the most freeing and satisfying feeling in the world.
I blow a breath and walk over to the windows.
I open them and feel the breeze rush into the room.
The wind has picked up drastically. Even though the rain hasn’t made it to the earth yet, I smell the rich mineral smell of it lingering in the atmosphere.
There’s nothing like sleeping while rain patters the rooftop.
It gets me every time. The only problem is, it’s not raining yet, and I’m not ready for bed.
Beep beep.
I turn away from the windows when I hear my phone. I pick it up and see that Tyson has sent a message:
Tyson: if you’re still up, come downstairs for a minute
Immediately, a smile comes to my face. I’m excited he’s still up, but I wonder why he wants me to come downstairs. What does he have up his sleeve? I can’t eat another bite, so I hope this isn’t food-related.
I happily place my phone on the nightstand, then head downstairs in my pajamas.
As I near the bottom of the stairs, I can see him sitting on the couch, one arm stretched out on the backrest, the other hand holding the TV remote.
He’s still dressed the same. I suppose after he tidied up the kitchen, this is where he landed.
“There she is,” he says.
“Hey. What’s up?”
“I just wanted to tell you that you don’t have to go to your room to watch TV. You can hang out down here, too. My home is your home, and I expect you to make yourself at home.”
“I appreciate that, Tyson. Your living room is so elegant, I didn’t think you used it at all. This white couch could easily get stained.”
“Yes, and it could also easily be replaced. Have a seat,” he says, gesturing for me to sit down.
I make myself comfortable on the opposite end of the couch, then stare at the TV. “Why’d you go upstairs if you weren’t ready for bed?”
“Force of habit.”
“What do you mean?”
“That’s been my routine for six months. I would only come downstairs to eat, or go to Padma’s house, and if I wasn’t doing one of the two things, I stayed in my bedroom.”
“The whole day?”
“Yes. Pretty much.”
Tyson shook his head. “Well, I hope I’ve made my house a home for you, and that you feel comfortable here.”
“I do feel comfortable.”
“Good. I’m glad.”
To my surprise, Tyson powers the TV off and says, “Who needs TV? I’d much rather talk to you instead.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re interesting.”
“You say that like I’m a sculpture or something.”
“I don’t mean like that. I mean, you’re different. Even though you’re eleven years younger than I am, you still like things I like.”
“And you’ve gathered that in less than a week?”
“I have. I like the charity work you do with Padma. I admire that. Honestly, you could’ve folded and given up on life after the nightmare you lived through, but you kept going. And not only that – you also found it in yourself to help other people.”
I can only smile. I hadn’t thought about it that way, but after Tyson broke it down for me, I can truly say I’m a survivor. Dilvan tried to break me. He failed. I’m still living. Still trying. And I’m thriving.
“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he says.
“Oh, nothing,” I reply because I can’t tell him what I’m thinking.
I wouldn’t dare.
How could I tell him how wonderful it is to be in his company?
How I feel like the luckiest woman in the world just to be a guest in his home?
There’s a lot of depth to Tyson. He’s not superficial like Dilvan.
He’s thoughtful, intriguing, smart, and handsome, and most importantly, he doesn’t have to trample on others to feel good about himself.
He’s already good, but at the same time, he’s grounded enough to know that dominance doesn’t make a man manly.
“How many years of schooling did you have to take to become a pastry chef?”
“That’s what you were thinking about?”
“Not quite. I was just curious.”
“I did four in the states, then I studied abroad.”
“You studied abroad? I thought you studied food,” I quip.
He chuckles. “I see what you did there. A broad–you’re funny.”
I laugh and say, “Sorry. I forgot to warn you that I can be extremely silly at times.”
“So can I. See, yet another thing we have in common. If Padma would’ve matched you with me instead of Dilvan, we’d be happily married right now.”
For a moment, our eyes connect and it seems that everything else around us disappears. It’s just Tyson and I, sitting on an invisible couch, in an invisible living room, completely in tune with each other.
To break away from his heated gaze, I ask, “Is it raining yet?”
I get up from the couch and walk over to the front door, opening it to the screen door. I notice a few raindrops falling onto the deck.
I completely freeze when I feel the warmth of his body directly behind me. Placing his hand on my right shoulder, he says, “It’s light right now, but the bottom is going to fall out before it’s all said and done.”
He puts his other hand on my shoulder and after massaging me there, he says, “But guess what? I go for my morning jog, rain or shine.”
“You run in the rain?”
“Yes. It’s exhilarating. As a matter of fact, come here.”
Tyson opens the screen door and steps out onto the deck, pulling me with him. It’s starting to come down faster. I see a flash of lightning slice through the night sky.
“Oh my gosh, Tyson,” I say, turning my hands palms up, feeling the cool rain dampening my body. I can tell he’s used to this because it doesn’t bother him one bit, and while I’m squirming like I’ve never felt water before, he’s standing there laughing at me.
I run back inside. He follows.
“Oh my gosh. Now, I have to change my pajamas thanks to you and your spontaneity.”
“Yeah, but you’ll sleep well tonight now that you’ve been watered from heaven.”
“Is that right?”
“It is–well, at least until five or so. Make sure you set your alarm.”
“I will.”
I wipe water from my face. Before I head upstairs for the night, I turn around to look at him.
He’s staring back at me, with beads of water still on his face.
He’s amazing, and I feel compelled to show my appreciation for all he’s done for me these last few days.
So, I take the few stairs back down, walk back over to him, and fold my arms around his thick, muscular body, squeezing hard – the side of my face pressed firmly against his chest. “Thank you so much, Tyson. Thank you for everything. Thank you for helping me find myself again.”
I know I have a long way to go, and I also know I won’t have him forever, but I have him for right now.
“You’re welcome, sweetheart,” he replies, his arms squeezing me gently while one of his hands dives into my thick hair.
I could stay in his arms forever. I’ve never felt this safe. This secure. I know he’ll protect me. Tyson is…
My goodness. He’s the original that should be used to clone every man so women all over the world are treated with care, love, and the respect they deserve.
I don’t want to, but shift my body and attempt to release him and say, “Goodnight, Tyson.”
Apparently, he doesn’t want to release me either because as I’m pulling away, he’s gripping me closer and tighter.
So, I don’t even try to move. I stay here, wrapped in the warmth of his embrace and let the feeling of being held wash over me.
I love it here – love being in his house and caught between his arms.
“Goodnight, Gabrielle,” he says, slowly releasing me.
Immediately I feel the emptiness, the disconnection, and it leaves me desiring so much more from him. I take a step back, look up at him and smile, then turn to head for the stairs again.