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“Right on time, cousin,” Lionel says.
“Hush,” Uncle Tommy says, glaring daggers.
Aunt Denisha hustles out of the kitchen, carrying a crock of steaming mashed potatoes that she sets in the middle of the table. My mom carries the ham. Then they whip off the kitchen mitts and complete the chain of hands as we pray.
Little Johnny leads prayer this time around, thanking God for the food and hoping that the Lord gives his parents some clarity to buy him a new toy car come Christmas time. That earns some chuckles around the table, while my Aunt Denisha scolds him and tells him not to ask for such things while saying grace.
Everyone digs in. Meanwhile, I don’t have much of an appetite besides some mashed potatoes. I serve myself some spoonfuls of macaroni and cheese, hoping it will seem as if I’m eating more than I actually am.
“Vivi, do you like the mac and cheese?” Johnny asks. “I helped make it.”
“It’s great, Johnny, thanks. I have a bit of an upset stomach right now, but the food is amazing.”
Loretta snorts. “Pregnant already, huh? Was that the reason for the fast marriage?”
“Loretta Gillian Carter.” Dad sets down his fork. “Do not bring that nonsense to my table.”
Caesar laughs. “I assure you that she’s not pregnant. Right, Vivienne?”
“Of course not,” I snap. I can’t believe how quickly I became the topic of the dinner conversation yet again. It doesn’t help that he’s making a joke out of the whole thing as if it’s nothing when I’m agonizing over the question of whether to lose my virginity to my husband.
Shoveling down the last of the food, I finish first, but that’s mainly because I didn’t start with much to begin with. I take my water and excuse myself to bed, which earns me a few concerned stares from my parents and aunt. I don’t feel like dealing with their questions. It’s Caesar’s turn to keep the wolves at bay.
Serves him right for mocking me.
I feel like a frustrated child again. Gently closing the door to my bedroom, I flop onto my bed and lay on my side, gazing out the window. From where I’m lying, I can hear fragments of their conversation wafting through the floor panels. Aunt Denisha has a distinct, loud laugh, as does my father.
I hope Caesar is enjoying himself down there. They’re probably bombarding him with questions about us and our phony relationship. So as long as he’s confident, he should come away unscathed. And he’s always confident. I love and hate that about him.
I start to feel guilty for leaving him alone. Maybe I shouldn’t have.
As much as I want to sleep the night away, I can’t. I’m too restless. I keep checking my phone for the time, wondering when dinner’s going to end.
It’s nearly nine o’clock when Caesar finally slips into my room, careful not to creak the door too loudly. I cling to my pillow and close my eyes, pretending to be asleep. Caesar walks past me and into the bathroom. Soon enough, the shower turns on. I release the breath I was holding and open my eyes to the glistening stars and full moon outside.
I stay in that position until his shower ends. When he comes out of the bathroom, fresh with a towel around his waist, my eyes close quickly. Judging by his footsteps, he brings himself to the side of my bed. He looms over me, and for a moment, I wonder if he’s going to join me under the covers.
If he does, what am I going to do? He’s naked. I’m going to feel him, all of him, rubbing up against me. That’ll drive me crazy, without a doubt.
Instead, I hear a soft sigh as he retreats to the couch in the corner. After a few minutes of silence, I take a chance to glance at him. He’s lying down, snoring softly. He didn’t even bother getting dressed for bed. No pajamas, nothing. Just a thin towel covering him.
My heart’s in my ears at this point. He went to bed? Just like that? As I lower my head back down, I’m starting to get confused by my own emotions. I wanted to be left alone, didn’t I?
So why do I feel so disappointed that he didn’t make a move just now?
With Caesar snoring on the opposite side of the room, the tension in my body slowly ebbs away. Finally, I feel myself relaxing on the mattress. Exhaustion finally catches up to me, dragging me down into sleep while I think about Caesar and his kisses. I fall asleep gazing at him, taking in his features while my eyes slowly close.
The next morning, I wake up to a clear blue sky. And no Caesar.
He’s no longer on the sofa, which makes me a bit concerned. I sit up quickly, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. It’s nearly ten o’clock, which stuns me. I usually wake up at six. Seven at the latest. Maybe it’s jet lag.
“Hey, sleepyhead.”
The bedroom door opens. Caesar enters with a tray of breakfast food, from pancakes to scrambled eggs to sausage and bacon. There’s also a pitcher of orange juice, along with a small flower vase.
“I would love to take credit for this incredible meal, but it’s all thanks to your Aunt Denisha. She gave me some tips on how to make some amazing eggs.”
“Did you already have breakfast?”
