“Still here.” He wheels to the fridge and takes out the milk. His fingers, like swan necks, curve around the carton in a precarious grip, but I’d rather mop up milk than take over and hurt his pride.
Keeping a peripheral eye out, I scramble up some eggs and drop four slices of bread in the toaster. When the mug is secured between both of his hands, he looks over at me; the corners of his dark eyes crinkle with a grin.
“Things must be going well with the architect. You been creeping in here after three a.m. for two nights now.”
“We’re just…friends.”
“Yeah. You and yourfriendup late playing Scrabble?”
I dismiss his sarcasm and butter the toast.
“When do I get to meet her?”
“You don’t.” His mouth dips in a disappointed frown. “It’s not like that, Pops. Neither of us wants a relationship. Jordyn’s level-headed and emotionally stable. She knows the score. In fact, we came to terms.”
“Terms?” he scoffs. “Like a contract?”
“Not that formal, more like mutually agreed-upon rules.”
“What kind of rules?”
“No plans, no commitment, no emotional ties.”
“You think a heart gives a good damn about terms or rules?”
“She’s not looking to give her heart. Jordyn is very…independent.”
“What’s independence got to do with it?”
“I just mean she doesn’t want or need a man in her life.”
“Then what are you, a baloney sandwich?”
“Pops.” I heave a sigh. “Can we drop it?”
“Just doesn’t make any sense, is all.”
“What doesn’t make sense is you refusing to wear the medical alert device I ordered.”
“It’s bad enough you got some nurse checking in on me,” he grouches, distracted from myarrangementwith Jordyn. “Now you want me to wear a baby monitor too?”
“It doesn’t monitor you, Pops. It’s a sensor.”
“Same difference. It says I can’t take care of my own damn self.”
“It’s in case of an emergency,” I try to explain. “911 would be alerted, and so would I. It even has a two-way call feature. That’ll make me worry less when I’m not here,” I add because that’s more likely to motivate him over his own safety. “I’ll show you how it works before I head out.”
“Don’t forget about tonight,” he reminds me. “Denzel, Kareem, and some of the guys are coming over. I don’t need you hanging around, watching my liquor intake, fussing, and carrying on.”
“I’ll make myself scarce.” That’s how I ended up at Royal’s the night I saw Jordyn. Pops wanted me out while he hosted his geriatric version of a frat party.
“Why don’t you go see your architect?” he suggests single-mindedly. “I’ll wear that damn gadget, so you can spend the night instead of leaving her at all hours. ’Cause no matter what rules you think you have, I can tell you, no woman is okay with that.”
* * *
Me: If you’re free tonight, wanna chance 3 in a row?
Ihit Send, and Jordyn responds almost immediately.
