I fly so high I swear when we kissed, I tasted the sun.
Chapter Forty-Six
Sin
Choice
I don’t know how it happened, but I’ve been at Kwame’s house for almost a month straight. It’s been interesting. Mostly in good ways. Waking up next to him is a top tier dopamine hit that starts my day off right.
We don’t share a bathroom or a closet and he’s outfitted one of the other rooms into an office for me.
I wasn’t sure how I’d feel living with anyone again, but I love it.
And him.
The aroma of fresh coffee and toasted bread wakes me up this morning. As nice as that is, I run a wistful hand over the pillow where his head would normally be.
I glance at the clock, and my rose-colored point of view clarifies. It’s already after seven, I have a meeting with Kathy at eight thirty. I should hurry.
In the weeks since my run-in with Sofia, every story I’ve submitted has been cut from the digital version ofThe Spectator. It happens to the best and most seasoned staff writers but not every single week. I’m salaried so my income isn’t affected. But I didn’t become a journalist to collect a paycheck. It’s killing my soul, but Sofia’s words echo in my mind. Is that my reputation? Difficult?
I drag myself out of bed and trudge to the bathroom.
“I thought you’d be done with the shower by now.” Kwame comes in just as I’ve turned the shower on.
He’s wearing my pink and white batik patterned house robe. I gape at him and shout over the roar of water hitting the tiled shower floor. “Oh my God, why are you wearing that?”
He frowns and looks at himself in the mirror. It’s a one size fits all and the sleeves are voluminous on me. It hits me at the knee. On him, it’s barely long enough to cover his thighs. And the tip of his dick peeks out below the hem. “I like it. And all my clothes are in the laundry.”
“Maybe if you owned more than seven pairs of underwear or let me send your laundry out with mine, you wouldn’t have this problem.” I stick my hand under the rain shower head to test the temperature. It’s perfect, as always.
“Why do you send your laundry out? We have a washer and dryer.”
“Because it saves me time or lets me spend the evening reading instead of folding and sorting and ironing. And I always have clean clothes.”
“But then I wouldn’t have an excuse to wear your robe. It smells like you. Well, when you’re clean.” He winks, taps my ass, and leaves before I can think of anything clever to say.
When I get out of the shower he’s sitting on the bed, reading something on his phone.
“Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask. I haven’t seen your column in the digital version in weeks.”
I roll my eyes. “Yeah, that’s because it’s been cut.”
I open his closet and pull out one of the garment bags I brought over and unzip it.
“What do you mean?”
I look at him puzzled and then remember that I never told him what happened with Sofia. “Ugh, sorry I was so upset when it happened that I didn’t want to talk about it and then…I guess I just moved on.”
He tosses his phone onto the bed and gives me his full attention. “Tell me.”
I fill him in on my conversation with Sofia from last August and when I’m done, he’s staring at me in disbelief. “She said that to you?”
“Yup.”
I slip my skirt on, and he stands to zip it for me. “Thank you.” I caress his shoulder and slip my blouse on.
I give myself a critical once over and frown. “I’m not sure I shouldwear white. I’m notorious for spilling things.” I walk back to both closets and eye the meager selection I have here.
