7. Sincere
My stomach tightened with every word that Journee shared about the boy responsible for Sweet Face’s existence.
“So, it’s been four years of silence? Four years of you carrying the load alone? But now, he wants to pop up with demands he doesn’t deserve.”
The urge to find out this boy's name, because he isn’t a man, makes my blood run hot.
It amazes me that some men don’t appreciate the blessing of having a child.
From what I’ve seen of Journee, she’s a woman that any man would want.
Not to mention how well she mothers her child.
Whoever this man is has to have the brains of a snail.
“I don’t understand what’s changed. Why now?
My baby is three, and we have been doing just fine without his dumbass.
I don’t want him in her life. I don’t even want him in her space.
But legally, I don’t know how I can stop him.
He didn’t officially give up his rights, and I don’t have the letter anymore.
I was so pissed that he wrote that mess that I burned it. Why the hell did I do that?”
When tears slide out of the corners of Journee’s eyes, I fight the urge to ball my hands into fists. My issue isn’t with Journee but this situation.
“Come here.” My tone is softer than it was a minute ago as my pulse races and my body heats like an inferno from my suppressed anger.
Thankfully, Journee walks from behind the counter and makes her way to me. The minute she’s within reach, I pull her into my arms and hold her against my body.
“I’m here.” Truer words have never been spoken as I rock Journee in my arms.
I’m not sure if I’m providing any comfort for her. But she’s definitely giving me a reason to hold her tighter for a little longer.
“How do some men deny their child and then decide to come back like everything should be okay?” Her words are muffled before she lifts her head from my chest.
The presence of her misty and wet eyes pulls at my heartstrings as I fight the urge to kiss her.
I don’t have an answer for that person’s actions.
But what I know in this moment is that I will never be a man who causes her to look like she does right now.
I also confirm that my attraction to her isn’t surface-deep.
I want this woman in the worst way. I want to be the reason she smiles.
I want to be the reason she laughs. I also want to be the reason only tears of pleasure slide down her face.
“I don’t have an answer for you, and I honestly don’t think you’ll find a logical one.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right.”
“What time do you close?”
“Whatever time it is now. I’m done for today.”
Journee walks away and to the front door, flips the sign to closed, and turns the lock. I nod because dealing with customers in her current state wouldn’t be wise for either of them.
“I need to complete my closing tasks, but you can keep Milan company while I do so.”
“Oh, I can definitely do that.”
My attraction deepens with that statement as a small smile upturns her lips.
I give her a smile of my own as she walks past me back around the counter.
The subtlety of her perfumes tickles my nostrils as I watch the sway of her hips.
I momentarily forget what she said until I see her bend down and speak to my little buddy.
“Your Cere is here, baby.”
My chest expands with warmth at hearing those words because of the implication of the truth within them. But while I might be Sweet Face’s Cere, I’m gonna ensure from today on that I also become Journee’s Sin.
“Cere!” The scurry of little feet sounds before Sweet Face makes an appearance around the counter.
I drop to my knees and open my arms wide as she runs at full toddler speed to reach me. Laughter escapes my mouth when her body collides into mine.
“Oh, Journee.”
“Hm?”
“I’m going to see that you two get out of here safely. But can I get your number so I can make sure y’all make it home as well?”
As I watch Journee’s eyes brighten for the first time since my arrival, my heart leaps.
This moment feels monumental and one that I will forever cherish.
But it also makes me sad and angry that someone would give up on her before she even took her first breath.
But his loss with these two is definitely my gain.
I feel like I’m walking on clouds the next day as I walk into the firm toward my office.
Not giving myself an out when thoughts of driving by Cocoa Luxe led me to comfort Journee and play hide-and-seek with Sweet Face at the end of an otherwise mundane workday.
But the highlight of the night was when Journee didn’t turn me down when I asked for her phone number.
I phrased it as my desire to make sure they got home safely.
Thankfully for me, she agreed without hesitation.
“Good morning, Sincere,” Cynthia greets when I reach my floor five minutes later.
“Morning, Cynthia. Beautiful morning, isn’t it?”
For countless seconds, Cynthia simply stares at me without uttering a word. I understand her reaction as I’m usually not a morning person. My version of returning her pleasantry is a grumble, no matter how many ways she greets me each day.
“Are you feeling okay?”
Hell yeah. I slept like a log because I dreamed about Journee all night. Best sleep ever.
“I feel fine.” The three words are the only ones I can share without giving my business away.
Besides, Journee and I haven’t had our first conversation or a real interaction, so I don’t have much to share.
Sure, I’m attracted to Journee, and I’m sure I want to date her.
But so far, our encounters haven’t been long or of any merit.
“If you say so. Your coffee is waiting for you. Don’t forget you have to be in court at nine.” Cynthia looks at me like she’s trying to assess if I’m truly okay as she gives me a once-over.
“Thanks. Let me get to it. Judge Hangover can be a grumpy dude under regular circumstances, so I don’t want to see how he reacts to lateness.” I walk away and into my office without giving Cynthia a chance to respond.
The coffee mug on my desk and the powered-up computer enhance my mood. Cynthia is the best, and I’m grateful to have her. I take a seat in my chair and retrieve my phone from the inside pocket of my suit jacket. My mind leads my actions as I send a quick text message.
Me:
Good morning, Ms. Journee. I hope today goes better than yesterday. If not, I’m just a call away.
I woke up thinking of Journee, so it’s only right that I initiate our communication. I also wanted to offer my services in case something goes haywire during her day. My heart rate increases when my phone chimes. It also reminds me to turn off my ringer since I’ll be heading to court shortly.
Journee:
Good morning to you too. So do I. I appreciate the offer. Have a good day.
Nothing else has to be said because a good day I’m bound to have simply because Journee told me to do so.
I place my phone face down on my desk and pick up my mug before I take my first sip of coffee.
Unlike most days, I don’t need the caffeine to wake or fuel me.
But the routine of having it keeps me drinking it long after my initial taste.
Thanks to Journee, I could run two marathons and still be energized.
“Hi, Sincere.”
Lord, I’ve gone thirty-plus years not understanding the effects some women have on men. But right now, I can see how boys lose their minds the first time they slip into something warm. I dang near broke my finger with how fast I swiped to accept Journee’s call.
“Well, hello to you. Do I need to come that way?”
Giggles pierce the line, and the sound has me closing my eyes to memorize it for future reference. Never has humor been so hypnotic, but here I am, caught up and hanging on to every syllable.
“I’m good. Home, actually. I left early since my manager loves me and lets me alternate with her to close. But how was your day?”
“Another day of defending the innocent. Pretty routine. I’m more interested in what made you call.”
While I could do cartwheels and totally didn’t expect Journee to reach out first, I’m curious.
“What type of attorney are you again?”
“Whichever one you need. I’m yours and Milan’s attorney. She paid my retainer in hugs already.”
More giggles sound through the receiver which causes a goofy grin to slide into place. This woman has me acting brand new and smiling more. I can definitely appreciate the improvement to my mood during the day.
“I’m not sure if hugs and toddler coos will pay your rate. But I need someone who specializes in family law.”
“Whatever you need, I’m at your disposal.”
From the moment I met Sweet Face and the subsequent interactions with Journee, I know that there’s nothing I won’t do for them.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“You do that. My word is my bond.”
Silence fills the line, and my heart rate elevates as I await Journee’s reply. Thankfully, she doesn’t leave me in suspense long as her voice pours over the line.
“Thank you, Sincere. I appreciate you.”
“No worries. I got y’all.”
Another truth that I’m not just saying to flatter Journee.
Journee has been dealing with single motherhood.
But I will be someone she can count on for anything or everything if she needs it.
Pops raised me as a single parent, and I understand the challenges he went through.
So if I can provide Journee with even a shred of relief, that’s what I plan to do.
“None that we got that out of the way. What did you have for dinner? Milan and I had one of those frozen lasagnas because I didn’t feel like cooking.”
“Yuck. I grew up eating that processed imitation and refuse to even look at them in the store now. I can’t believe you did my Sweet Face such a disservice.”
“I know. I felt so bad because she turned her nose up and told me it wasn’t good or my mom’s ’sagna.”
I chuckle because I can only imagine Sweet Face’s expression and outrage over Journee’s dinner choice.
“Listen, nobody will be as real as a three-year-old. I promise,” Journee adds.
“I can only imagine. Who needs a lie detector with them around?”
“That part. So, what did you have? All that judgment and you have yet to share what you ate.”
“I actually made a chicken Caesar salad yesterday, so I’ll be eating that.”
“Ooh, that’s it? It doesn’t sound filling enough for me. I’ll take my frozen lasagna over a boring salad any day.”
“Don’t knock it until you try it. I don’t like eating heavy late, and I needed a workout after work more than I needed to cook.”
Our conversation flows naturally and easily as I go through the routine of my after-work activities.
I had just finished a quick workout when Journee called, but I’m now delaying my shower because I don’t want to stop talking to her.
I’m sitting on my floor because I’m funky and sweaty and don’t want to sit or lie on my bed without cleaning up first. Hell, I’ll give Journee four or twelve hours if it means we can stay in this moment.