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Chapter Three
After her phone call with Zander, Zsanine felt lighter. She was able to focus on those things she needed to accomplish and get them done in sufficient time to go to her parent's home for their regularly scheduled dinner date. Zsanine listened to all of her missed messages, checked her email, and finalized her schedule for the next week before heading out the door. She felt good about what she had accomplished, as it would set her up nicely for the week to come. Zsanine liked checking things off her ‘to do’ list. Those small achievements led to even greater ones, and although her parents were wealthy, that was her parents’ wealth. Zsanine always wanted to establish her own independent wealth, and she was well on her way to doing so.
As she drove toward her destination, music playing softly on the car radio, Zsanine had a thought. It was of Zander wearing that towel. A naughty smile eased across her full lips as she scolded herself for entertaining such an impure thought. Yet, Zander in that towel was pure – pure enticement, pure sexiness, pure temptation. Zsanine remembered that moment so vividly, seeing him standing there, the dew of the shower still fresh on his obsidian skin, the towel perfectly placed, threatening to slip at any moment.
“My lord,” she uttered aloud, knowing that complete repentance would be required if she allowed herself to remain in that taboo moment. Yet, even as she tried to pull herself from the memory, another one emerged – when he walked away. The chisel of his back, the strength in his shoulders, and the way the towel threatened to fall because of how low it hung from his waist were all things that stirred her as she pulled onto her parents’ street. The flight home had been just as wonderful as the original. The conversation between the two remained easy, but the second time, their communication was peppered with more than just innuendo because of how they experienced each other and enjoyed it. The ease of their conversation, the depth of Zander’s intelligence across a variety of subjects, and the way he engaged her and was present as they talked were all things that heightened Zsanine’s attraction to him. She found herself drawn to him.
As she pulled into her parents’ driveway, Zsanine was mindful of shifting her thoughts away from the man she found herself craving, especially when he was away. This was family time.
“Whew, someone is glowing,” Zsanine’s mother, Zsa Zsa greeted as she opened the door for her daughter. Zsanine walked into her mother’s open arms, and the mother-daughter shared a loving hug. “If I didn’t know my daughter, I’d ask if you were pregnant,” Zsa Zsa continued as they separated.
“Mom,” Zsanine smirked as her mother closed the door behind her. “You know me better than that.”
“I do,” Zsa Zsa replied with a smile, “but I am curious as to what the shine is all about, not that you don’t shine ordinarily, daughter, but something is different.”
“Just rested is all,” Zsanine commented as they entered the living room. “Nothing more.”
Her mother was and had always been very intuitive. It was very difficult to hide anything from her. Since Zsanine wasn’t quite ready to talk about what had her glowing, she knew she would have to mind her p’s and q’s for the duration of her visit. The rest of Zsanine’s family was there to greet her as she and her mother made their way further into the house. Her father made sure to come over and give her a hug as soon as he saw her.
“How’s my baby girl?” Shareef asked, hugging his daughter tightly.
“I’m good, dad. How are you?”
“Anytime I see you, I am fine,” her father smiled. Shareef hugged Zsanine a little longer before letting her go. He missed her. She was so busy. Their family dinners were too often the only time he saw Zsanine. There were more hugs for Zsanine to enjoy.
“Hey, little sis,” was repeated three times in one version or the other as Zsanine greeted her brothers, Mustapha, Brigham, and Shareef II. Regardless of how old they were, Zsanine accepted that she would always be their kid sister, and they would manage to refer to her that way irrespective of the setting or how much she cringed when they did. The cringe wasn’t about position. It was about disposition. In her brother’s eyes, Zsanine would always be the baby girl who needed protection and their oversight.
“Mom, do you need some help in the kitchen?” Zsanine asked as the family moved toward the dining room.
“Help is always appreciated,” Zsa Zsa commented in return.
Mother and daughter entered the kitchen. It’s not that her sons were not required to help, they were, but Zsa Zsa found it much easier to move around the kitchen with her daughter versus her mountainous sons, who were each over six feet tall. After washing their hands, both mom and daughter donned aprons to protect the clothes they were wearing. Zsanine fell into old habits, pulling out the dishware and the utensils as her mother checked the food one final time before serving. As Zsanine moved around the kitchen, she felt her mother’s eyes on her in an unnatural way. Her mother was purposely turning to watch Zsanine.
“What?” She asked, trying not to feel self-conscious and keep busy.
“Nothing,” Zsa Zsa replied, “or something, depending on whether or not you’re ready to tell me.”
Zsanine turned slightly away from her mother. She was so busted. What was ironic was that at the moment, Zsanine wasn’t even thinking about Zander. She had to make sure her face was absolutely expressionless yet genuine before responding to her mother.
“Mother,” Zsanine began once she faced her. “If there were something to share, you would be the first person I’d share it with.”
“Okay,” Zsa Zsa smiled disbelievingly, but she was willing to go along with Zsanine for the time being. She plated up dinner, and she and Zsanine took it in the dining room.
“Let me get that,” Shareef II said, lifting from his chair and helping the ladies.
Once everyone was settled around the table, their father made the call to prayer. The St. Laurent family bowed their heads and held hands as Shareef Sr. blessed the food.
“Gracious heavenly Father, we come before you as humbly as we know how, grateful that we can gather as a family once again. Thank you for protecting us from all hurt, harm, and danger. Thank you for keeping us in your grace. Bless the food, Father, that it may be nourishment to our bodies and food for our souls. Bless the hands that have prepared it. In your mighty name, we pray, amen.”
The family answered, “amen.”
“Dad, no disrespect, but I promise you those prayers get longer and longer,” Brigham said, shaking his head.
“Excuse me?” Shareef Sr. asked with a slight smile.
“For real, dad,” Shareef II added. “Whatever happened to ‘good bread, good meat, good God, let’s eat’?”
“I have no idea,” their father chortled. “I don’t recall ever praying that prayer.”
