“Waiting to speak with Mahogany,” I said before flicking my wrist to check the time.
My meeting with Shar started three minutes ago. I didn’t give a fuck. Mahogany was avoiding me, and I hated that shit.
A couple of seconds later, she walked away from the reception desk and my eyes swept over her body. She was wearing a cream-colored pantsuit. One that hugged her curves to perfection. The heels she wore were high—a little too high for work. Later, her feet would hurt. I listened as the sound of them click-clacked against the waxed floor. Watched as her hips swayed from right to left, smooth like butter. Sultry like a symphony.
“Good morning, Mahogany,” I spoke once she was in earshot.
She smiled again. “Crescent. How are you?”
Subtly, I inhaled. She smelled soft. Like vanilla and cashmere. I wanted my face buried in the side of her neck. Wanted it between her thick thighs too. But…
“Great,” I said as I turned to push the up button on the elevators panel. “You?”
Slightly, she swung her purse to the front and gripped the handle with both hands. With a smile that didn’t reach her eyes, she said, “Good.”
She wasn’t good. I could sense the lie the minute she spoke it. I surveyed her. Eyed her up and down. Slowly. Softly. With intention. Something was off. She didn’t have a hair out of place. It was pulled back into a tight bun. Her makeup was flawless. She wore long eyelashes that if I wasn’t paying attention, would have hid her sad eyes. Something was wrong. My eyes landed on her hands again. The grip she had around the strap said she was stressed. Everything about her body language told me she was. But then, I wondered if it was me. Wondered if I shouldn’t have waited. Maybe I was coming off too strong. Too persistent.
Clearing my throat, I gestured for her to step onto the elevator first once the doors opened. She gave me a tightlipped smile and walked on.
“You sure?” I asked, after hitting her floor number on the keypad before hitting Shar’s.
“Hm?” She asked.
“Are you sure?”
“Am I sure what?”
“That you’re good.”
We locked eyes. Her glossed over a bit. Instantly, I knew it wasn’t about me. How stressed she was. It was about something else. My mind instantly went to her husband. The look behind her eyes… the emptiness… it reminded me of the pictures I had seen of them on her IG.
“Yes,” she lied before quickly looking away, brushing her thumb over her purse strap.
Was I supposed to dig? Should I have asked more? Told her I could tell she wasn’t okay? I couldn’t do that. Wouldn’t. We’d already overstepped major lines, and she wasn’t on that type of time with me. I was trying my hardest to keep shit cordial between us. If Mahogany wanted to pretend she was okay, I’d let her. I didn’t have any other choice but to. She’d already transferred me to another designer because we’d gotten too close. I felt like… shit… if I made the wrong move, she’d take every precaution known to man to avoid me. And well… I didn’t want that. I needed to see her. Needed to have moments like this. Quiet moments on the elevator. Her mind swimming with thoughts I wanted to read. Mine swimming with thoughts of her. Thoughts of wanting to draw closer. Thoughts of the last and first time we were together. Thoughts of wanting to fix whatever was wrong.
It was quiet.
Too quiet. With five more floors to go.
“I miss having you on as my designer, Mo,” I admitted. I blurted out against my will. She made me like that. Slow to think, quick to react. “Miss listening to you talk about shit like colors… fabrics…flow.”
She didn’t say anything. Shifted around a bit. Took a deep breath. Brushed that thumb against her purse strap again.
“I miss the smell of your perfume,” I continued. “Miss?—”
“Okay,” she whispered. “Stop.”
I watched as her throat moved up and down with a swallow.
“I can’t keep it real with you?” I asked, inching in a little closer. I was inches away from brushing the side of my arm up against hers.
“What do you want me to do with that, Crescent?” She asked. “Hmm? I told you?—”
“I know what you told me,” I interrupted. “I don’t think it should matter though?—”
“But itdoesmatter. More than you know. We’re not having this argument again. Not here. Not right now. I’m—I can’t… and?—”
“Yeah, I got you.” I ran my tongue over my bottom lip. “Still miss you though. I’m just sayin’.”
