5. Journee
I should be making dinner. I could be preparing lunch for tomorrow. Or even thinking about meal prep. Instead, I’m dealing with thoughts of someone whose presence was unknown to me prior to our introduction.
“Why the hell am I still thinking about that man?” I pace around my kitchen as the image I can’t shake taunts me.
Sincere. Oh, what a delicious name for such a yummy man.
I shake my head like a bobblehead as I try to rid myself of the thought from my conscience.
My attempt only causes slight dizziness as the image becomes clearer.
Sincere’s tall, broad-shouldered ass has been on constant repeat in my mind since that cookout for Jamarion.
I didn’t want to go. I didn’t want to subject my daughter to random people.
But no, I went and ran into someone I’m struggling to forget.
The royal blue two-piece linen short set made me want to fight the material for how well the shirt stretched across his chest and arms. I was drunk with envy while desperately trying to mask my attraction.
I shamelessly took him in, cataloging every single feature he’d been blessed with.
His face, Lord, his face was a work of art that I wanted to praise and give God dap for creating.
Everything about him looked deliberate .
. . his haircut, his perfectly shaped beard, his brown eyes that seemed to penetrate my soul, and his confidence even while kneeling in front of Milan.
My God, everything about Sincere was impossible to ignore.
Not to mention the thirsty way I’ve been imagining what he looked like in a suit.
Sincere Kensington is a man who made me wonder if he’s the total package.
My desperate need to see him again had me searching the internet to see if I could find his professional images.
Why did I do that? I almost swallowed my tongue when his suited profile hit my screen.
A man like Sincere has to know the effect he has on women. Has to.
I keep telling myself that I’m not interested, but the lie tastes stale on my tongue.
I have replayed our encounter like someone in charge of showings at a movie theater.
The slight dimple present when he smirked, the rough yet calming edge in his voice.
The patience he held while I ranted and raved like a lunatic.
The care and concern in his eyes. I wish he had been arrogant, rude, or dismissive because maybe then I could forget him.
But no, he was attentive, apologetic, and charming without effort. Those three attributes are what scare me the most. They’re the things that cause my heart to nudge me to lower my guard.
“His mama named him Sincere, but she should have named him Caution or Sin-Risk. My goodness.”
Milan is with my parents, and I’m supposed to be cleaning my apartment.
But thanks to my roaming thoughts, I have only managed to get the dirty dishes done.
I pick up my phone, plop down on the couch, pull up my contacts, and tap the green icon to call a familiar number.
I tap my hand on my bare thigh as the rings sound in my ear.
I almost gave up hope that the call would be answered until it connects on the fourth ring.
“What can I do for you?” Mom’s voice is full of sarcasm and annoyance, which makes me chuckle.
Mom gets so irritated anytime I call her when Milan is with her and Daddy. But this call has nothing to do with my daughter and everything to do with my sanity.
“I need a favor, Mom.”
“I declare, I already have my grandbaby so you can have some time to yourself. What else do you want, girl?”
“An exorcism.”
I hang my head and close my eyes, and instantly pop them open when Sincere’s image meets me in the darkness.
“Get thee behind me, Satan,” I say weakly.
“That’s right. Resist that slew-foot joker, and he will flee.
Father, in the matchless name of Yeshua, go to that apartment and remind my daughter of who you are.
I don’t know what’s troubling her, but I trust You.
I know that You are Lord of all. Be her Savior.
Be her keeper. You alone are worthy of praise.
I thank You now for being omnipresent. You know all things and can do all things.
Now God, send one of Your angels to slap the irrational out of Journee on my behalf.
In Your name, amen.” Mom disconnects the call before I have a chance to say anything, and all I can do is shake my head as laughter escapes my lips.
“I've got to get out of this house.” I stand and head to my bedroom to shower.
Maybe if I find something else to do or think about, I can get Sincere out of my head.
I chew on my inner cheek as I enter my room and go to my closet to find something to wear.
It might have been a bad idea to let my manager talk me into taking a day off and running the boutique without me.
I need the structure and sometimes the distraction because my parents didn’t care about my boredom when they sent me home without Milan last night.
My stomach growls, and I remember that it’s been a while since I’ve eaten.
It takes me forty-five minutes to leave my apartment and head toward First Watch.
Instead of going to the one close to me, I head toward the one downtown.
My arrival is without incident, and I’m walking through the front entrance in no time.
The hostess greets me within minutes and leads me to a table in the same amount of time.
It takes herculean strength to keep me upright when I pass a table with two men, a woman, and the object of my taunting, .
. . Sincere Kensington. His heavy gaze is already on me, and my legs instantly tremble as my pulse races.
Good God! Take me, baby.
My pussy purrs the five words as I plaster on a fake smile when the hostess and I pass the table.
Heat hits my back, and I clench my teeth into my bottom lip, despite having visual confirmation of Sincere’s gaze on me now that I’ve passed by.
Spending the last thousand and ninety-five days without the presence of the male anatomy between my legs makes me feel like Whoopi Goldberg when she was forced to become a nun.
I’m not even sure if it would help me to masturbate tonight.
At this point, I might need to go to a strip club just to get a free orgasm from a dancer I pay to give me a lap dance.
“Your server will be right with you,” the hostess tells me as I nod wordlessly, unable to say anything lest my salacious thoughts tumble from my mouth.
I slide into the booth so my back is facing Sincere and his companions.
I didn’t need the torment while I tried to drown my feelings in the new summer menu for this restaurant.
Thanks to my unexpected sighting of Sincere, I will be getting a mimosa or another alcohol-infused beverage.
If I have to suffer with knowing that a man is behind me, I might as well feel great.
The server walks up to greet me and take my drink order, which forces me to quickly peruse the menu for my courage of choice.
I place my drink selection as the server walks away, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
Days Later . . .
“Are you sure you don’t want me to take her with me?” my manager, Deanna, asks.
“No, we’ll be fine. Go enjoy your lunch, and I’ll see you in an hour,” I say.
In a rare occurrence, Milan is here at the boutique with me, thanks to Mom and Dad coming down with a stomach bug and not wanting to pass it to Milan.
Vaughn Jr. is out of town so I couldn’t tag him in to babysit his niece.
It’s been a week since the Sincere sighting, and thoughts of him have yet to waver.
My eyes move from the front door, after Deanna leaves, to the windowsill, where Milan is occupied with one of the educational games Mom bought for her.
I smile before I move from behind the counter to the rack where some clothes need to be rearranged.
“Pway hride and teek, Mommy,” Milan says after an unknown time of me getting lost in the task of stocking and organizing the clothes I have on hand.
“Okay. But don’t go too far.”
“Otay. Tount, Mommy.”
Milan’s enthusiastic voice encourages me to count, so she can hide and I can find her. My poor baby is too young to know that the beads I put in her hair will be a dead giveaway for wherever she attempts to find shelter. I indulge my baby and lead off with number one before I go up to five.
“Ready or not, here I come,” I say loudly.
Milan and I get lost in hide and seek as the sound of her laughter echoes around the boutique. It fills me with merriment with each occurrence as my heart gallops in my chest. I lose track of how long we’ve been playing when the doorbell chimes, alerting me to an incoming customer.
“Hey, Sweet Face.”
That voice scrambles my brain as I stagger to my feet, and my heart rate increases at the sight of Sincere.
His concentration is on Milan as she hugs him around his right leg.
I don’t know whether to be angry or stunned by her reaction to seeing this man.
Milan has only seen Sincere once, so her stranger/danger radar should be fully active.
But instead of running toward me, Milan waves animatedly before she extends her arms for Sincere to pick her up, which causes my mouth to drop open.
“Hi. Up.”
Lord, what has gotten into my daughter?
“You remember me?” Sincere asks as he scoops Milan into his arms.
Milan’s head bobs up and down as she gives him a full-toothed smile. I move closer to them and prepare to speak, just as Sincere’s brown eyes shift to me.
“Hello again, Ms. Journee.”
Lord, of all the boutiques and clothing stores in the city, why did you allow this man to walk through my doors?
Are you really complaining or giving God reverence? I need clarification.
“Didn’t your mother ever tell you that it’s bad to pounce on a child who’s not old enough to know right from wrong?”
A deep chuckle escapes Sincere’s mouth, and it settles within my honeypot like fresh honey on a biscuit.
“My bad. Your daughter is too cute and has me forgetting all of my home training.”
All I can do is nod as I get stuck on the way he fills out the suit that adorns his body. I have never been more jealous than I am of the clothes that get the privilege of being so attached to him.
“Whas u name?” Milan asks with her curious eyes on Sincere as he disconnects his eyes from me back to her.
Fine time to be asking him, baby.
“My name is Sincere, Sweet Face.”
Milan’s face scrunches as she attempts to process the information he’s given her. I know it’s too difficult for her to pronounce and jump in to add my two cents.
“She can’t say that name. She’s only three,” I say with an unconscious smile that I’m incapable of preventing.
“You’re right, but I reserve Sin for special and grown women.”
Oh my God!
Yes, sir. I’ll gladly call you Sin, daddy, pussy magnetic, or any variation of the three.
My conscience and I speak internally and simultaneously as Sincere’s words land like a bulldozer in my lower region. I’m so lost in my internal struggle that I almost miss Sincere’s name suggestion for Milan.
“How about you call me Cere? Can you say that, Sweet Face?”
His voice is void of the sexual inflection he’s used moments ago, but it has the same effect on me.
“C-Cere.” My baby happily and without struggle recites his given name for her like a parrot.
The way Milan has taken to this man should be studied. I don’t know what’s gotten into her, but as I watch the merriment in Sincere’s eyes, I can’t say that I blame her.
“That’s great, Sweet Face.”
Milan giggles like he’s said something funny, and all I can do is stare like an interloper. Milan launches into a conversation involving hand movements and everything, as Sincere nods, like he understands every word.
“Hm. I hear you. I got to get back to work, but if it’s okay with Mommy, how about I come see you again?”
“Yesh. Yesh.” Milan claps like my agreement is a foregone conclusion as Sincere’s eyes shift to me.
“Sweet Face agrees, so it’s up to you. Can I stop by again?”
Time stands still, and I momentarily lose my ability to think or breathe as his eyes fill with a mix of determination and desire.
I fight the urge to bite my lip as heat fills my back from the intensity of Sincere’s gaze.
My boutique doesn’t have customer restrictions, but do I really want this man shaking up my day with his presence?