“Yes.”
“Have you slept with one since meeting me?”
“No.” He hadn’t sought out nor had he thought about another woman since Jasmine introduced him to Nydia.
“Thank you for being honest with me.”
“I will never lie to you.”
“Or I to you,” she admitted. Pushing against his chest, Nydia extricated herself from his embrace. “I have to make the biscuits.”
Lamar felt her loss immediately. He’d enjoyed the warmth of her body seeping into his and inhaling the scent of coconut on her hair. He sat on a stool and watched as she moved comfortably around the kitchen, checking on the grits and sausage.
He noticed the single-serve coffeemaker on the counter. “Do you mind if I brew a cup of coffee?”
Nydia smiled at him. “Of course not. It’s not the chicory blend you’re used to.”
Lamar slipped off the stool and plucked a coffee pod from the carousel. “I only drink café au lait when I eat beignets.”
“I told my mother I’m going to have to trade in my bagel with cream cheese and light and sweet coffee for beignets and café au lait once I move to New Orleans.”
“How did your parents take the news you’ll be leaving the Big Apple for the Big Easy?”
“My mother was always very supportive, because she’s an advocate of female-owned businesses. She’s operated her own hair salon for twenty-five years. My father was against me moving until this craziness with Danny and his people. Now he thinks it is better I leave. Papi is really laid back, but if anyone messes with hispequeña muñeca, or little doll, as he used to call me, then he’s not so easygoing. History has repeated itself with my brother and his daughters. Nelson is currently a sergeant with the NYPD, and he’s like a live grenade. He went ballistic when he heard about theTMZtape, but I managed to calm him down.”
Lamar gave Nydia a sidelong glance as he waited for the coffeemaker to warm up. “How are you doing with the craziness?”
She sprinkled a wooden board with flour and kneaded a ball of biscuit dough. “I’m coping.”
“You shouldn’t have to cope, Nydia. And you also shouldn’t have to be a prisoner in your own home.”
“This, too, shall pass,” she said under her breath.
“I know,” Lamar countered. “After we eat, we’re going out for a walk. And to return the favor of you making breakfast I want to take you out to dinner. Don’t look at me like that,” he warned, “because I intend to run interference if anyone comes at you.”
“What are you going to do? Go gangsta on them?”
“Gangsta or not, you can count on me to protect you whenever we’re together.”
* * *
Nydia recalled Jasmine talking about men protecting her. First her father, then her much older lover, and now Cameron. Her friend did not realize how lucky she was, because there were women who went through their entire lives without a man’s protection. Other than her father and brothers, she had never been involved with a man willing to protect her. The man in her first serious liaison failed to tell her he was married until confronted by the man’s wife; and she didn’t want to think of what she’d had with Danny, who’d used her and had planned to use her again with a public bombshell proposal.
She pondered what type of connection she could look forward to having with Lamar. He’d claimed he didn’t need her for sex, unlike her married professor who’d claimed she was the best woman he’d ever slept with. And he didn’t need her to support him financially, unlike Danny, who’d refused to get a job while waiting for his big break. But more important for her, Nydia had no intention of becoming a replacement for his dead wife. She was willing to offer friendship and not much more, because she now had two strikes in the romance department.
“Are you sure you want to be seen with me?”
Lamar gave her an incredulous look. “What’s wrong with being seen with you?”
“New Orleans may be thirteen hundred miles away from New York City, but it could be thirteen when livestreamed on the internet. I’ve closed my Facebook, Messenger, and Twitter accounts, and set up a new email because of nasty threats from people who don’t even know Danny and even less about me. Why should it matter to them if I reject a man’s marriage proposal? I’ll answer that question for you,” she said, not giving Lamar time to reply. “Because Danny’s publicist is hyping him up even before his first album drops. Danny admitted the man’s a piranha and with this so-called media blitz he’s achieved his objective: catapult his client into the spotlight as a spurned heartthrob, while the woman who rejected his undying love is a heartless skank.”
“Do you really care what people think of you, Nydia?”
She halted rolling out the dough. “No. What I do care about is dragging my family and friends into the fray. Think about your reputation. Do you want your photo splashed over the pages of some tawdry tabloid for your friends and family to start asking questions about me?”
“I’ve never put much stock into what people think of me. I live my life by a certain rubric and anything or anyone that doesn’t fit within those guidelines I reject.”
“That sounds very rigid.”
