To my horror, hot tears fall from the corner of my eyes, and a sob escapes my quivering lips before I manage to press them together.
He brushes them away with the pads of his thumbs. “Are you crying?”
“No.” I jerk back from his touch and brush my damp cheeks dry.
His calm demeanor makes me keenly aware of how rattled I am. I feel like I’m standing naked in front of him. Vulnerable and lacking.
“I’m so sorry you saw that.”
My eyes snap up to his, blazing with indignation and ready to tell him to take his respect and shove it, but I can see the turmoil in his eyes, and even in the grips of my humiliation, I’m very aware that this entire thing was self-inflicted.
Why didn’t you stop when you saw me? I want to ask him so badly.
But that would leave room for him to ask whyIdidn’t walk away. I can’t answer him…because I honestly don’t know. “Why are you here now?”
His expression softens and he takes a step toward me. I should take a step back, but I don’t. “The same reason I come to your parents’ every Sunday.”
“For my mom’s jollof?” I peer up at him, perplexed.
“No, you, blind woman.” He chuckles and shakes his head. The creases at the corners of his eyes make my stupid heart flutter and I wish we could go back to the space in time where the only thing we did together was laugh. “I’d hoped it was obvious, but now that I’ve made such a mess of things I realize I should have just said it aloud. I come for you. I’m here now, for you.” He’s closed the space between us and his breath tickles my eyelashes when he speaks.
I’m not slow, but the implication in his words doesn’t compute. “Me?”
“Yes, you.”
Butterflies I haven’t felt in years burst to life inside me and warmth fills the places that only moments ago felt cold.
“Really?”
He cups my face in his warm, soft hands. “Really.”
It feelssogood I can’t stop the moan that spills from deep in my soul.
I have so many questions to ask him, but I can’t remember a single one because his skin against mine feels like the answer to everything.
I nuzzle my face into his palm and let my eyes flutter closed. I can smell cognac and woodsmoke, and I lick my lips anticipating the press of his.
His hand slips around my waist and he draws me to him. “No relationship has ever been so easy as the one I have with you,” he murmurs and a shiver of anticipation runs through me.
He turns his eyes up and looks at me with an imploring expression. “I just don’t want to losethisfamily. Or you.”
“That’s not how family works, Kwame. You can’t lose what’s a part of you. Over these last few months, that’s what you’ve become—part of us. None of us know every single thing about each other. So, unless you’re going to tell me you’re a nazi or serial killer, it’s all good.” On impulse I lean up and wrap him in a hug.
He hugs me back and rests his cheek on top of my head. “Great. Thank you. I’m so glad you’re not mad at me anymore.”
I scoff, pull away, and cross my arms over my chest. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I’m still reeling from seeing you get your dick sucked.”
He groans and looks heavenward. “It was nothing.”
My incredulous bark of laughter is humorless. “Imagine you’d walked in on me with a man on his knees between my legs and then tell me again how it’s nothing.”
His eyes close for a second and his lips press together in a grimace. “Take all the time you need.”
I nod, relieved that this conversation is over. “Thank you. You’re coming for lunch tomorrow, right?”
“No. That’s why I came by today. I have plans. Long-standing commitment.”
“Seeing your secret family, are you?” I quip.
