Page 45 of Surrender to Love

“So you eat fish eyes now?” I ask, truly shocked.

While laughing, she says, “My little Nigerian baby loves them.”

“Just like me,” Niya adds.

“Whew. Girl, I guess,” I say.

This light, loving, and delicious dinner along with my drink is exactly what I need. At my firm insistence, I wash the dishes after dinner then journey upstairs to the guest room next to Niya’s. Because Reya is thick like me, she has pajamas I can wear. It’s actually a new set and I slide them on after a long, much appreciated bath with hot water and lavender oil.

When Reya invites me to watch a movie with them, I decline. I really just need time to myself, plus I’m tired. I forgot how tiresome fighting can be. Hell, my damn hands are still a little sore.

Before getting in the comfy bed, I grab my cell and place it on the charging station on the nightstand. The minute I do, it vibrates. I reach over and see it’s a text from Shiro. I just shake my head and smile at the same time as I read the messages.

Him: My Zongo was so good. Thanks again for cooking it for me.

Him: I love you.

This man.

I swear.

What part of time and space doesn’t he understand?

That night with Reya and her family was exactly what I needed after my mishap. I went home refreshed and more accepting of my actions. While I hate that the fight happened in front of people, I absolutely do not regret putting my hands on her. She begged for that ass beating when she said her intentional words to me and I gladly obliged.

As for Shiro, he’s still in time out. I love him with every fiber of my being but he has to sit in his dumb ass decision. I know exactly who I am and what I am worth. He was wrong as hell. The minute he discovered or remembered who she was, he should have fired her. When he didn’t, he one thousand percent should have told me about her. His failure to do either is why I’m not responding to his texts. It’s been three days and he texts me every morning, afternoon, and night. The way I miss my man is insane but I’m holding strong.

“Dr. Morris,” security says when I answer my desk phone.

“Yes, Michael.”

“We have a delivery for you at the front desk.”

“Okay. I’ll be right out.” Lexie is out today. Her husband had his wisdom teeth removed.

“We can send one of the work studies if you don’t mind,” he says, referring to the students who work part-time in the business department.

“Depends on the delivery. What is it?”

“Flowers.”

“Oh. You can send a student. That’ll be fine. Thanks, Michael.”

“Of course, ma’am.”

As soon as I end the call, I flip my phone and open my messages. Shiro’s message makes more sense now. I thought he was being corny but cute but I get it now. These flowers have to be from him.

Him: Good morning, baby. I miss you like flowers miss rain.

Ten minutes later, a student walks into my office holding a large bouquet of purple and white calla lilies and ivory roses.

“Where do you want them, Dean?” he asks.

“On my desk, please. Thank you.”

“Yes, ma’am. Do you have anything for me to do? I’m working until three.”

Because my office has access to confidential student and faculty information, my records are off limits from the students. Lexie occasionally has flyers for them to copy, but with her being out today, I’m clueless about what she might have. I refer him to Student Services. “Thank you. I’ll ask Miss Jeanette then,” he says before leaving.