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“How is Paul?”
“Fine, Mama. I saw him last night.”
“Tell him I said hello.”
“Okay.”
“Is your boss paying you extra money for helping her husband?”
Mama had asked me this before. “No, but she really appreciates it and she has said that s
omething real sweet lies ahead for me. I’m hoping it’s a promotion to executive editor.”
“Real sweet, huh? What if she just gives you a box of chocolates?” Mama laughed heartily at her own joke.
“I’ll wring her scrawny neck,” I answered with a chuckle that made my head hurt even more. “Do you need me to bring you anything tomorrow?”
“Some oranges and grapes would be nice.”
“Okay. I love you, Mama.”
“I love you too, honey.”
I had just lotioned myself up and slipped into jeans, sneakers, and a navy blue turtleneck sweater when Paul arrived. He was carrying two bags of food, which I snatched from his hands before he had locked my front door behind him.
What is there to say about Paul? He is average-looking—tall, light-skinned, and stocky with close-cropped, wavy hair. Aside from his brother Richard, he had no family. His mother died when he was ten and the boys had never known their father. Paul and his brother had grown up in the foster care system.
He followed me into the kitchen and watched as I tore into the cartons.
“I didn’t know what you were in the mood for, so there are four different meals. Fried chicken and waffles. Grits, bacon, and biscuits. Fried catfish and grits. Bacon, eggs, and toast.”
“This is wonderful, Paul, but . . .”
“But the smell is making you feel queasy all of a sudden and you’re wishing for some tea and dry toast instead, am I right?”
I gave him a grateful smile. “What would I do without you?”
“You’ll never have to find out.” He opened the refrigerator door and packed the food neatly onto the shelves. “You also won’t have to cook for a week. Go lie down.”
I threw myself across the bed, wishing that there was some way I could get out of going to see Annabelle and Craig on my day off. Sleep had overtaken me again when Paul woke me up. The tea and toast were on my nightstand.
His light brown eyes watched me intently as I bit a piece of the toast. “Jackie, the only reason you got so drunk is because you were disappointed that Victor didn’t show up. You really need to think about what I said last night.”
My face creased into a frown.
“You’ve been torturing yourself over this guy for the past year.”
“I’m going to end this torture by calling Victor and inviting him over.”
Paul’s eyebrows went up. “For what?”
“Toe-curling sex, followed by lots of cuddling. What else?”
“Very funny.” He gave me an odd look and then said, “Guess who asked me out?”
“The waitress with the crooked nose who used to work for Richard?”
“Her name is Rosa and her nose is not crooked.”
