“Must be nice to be rich.”
I smiled with a nod. “It is. Shit, I’ll get them to cook for you too so you can get a taste of this life.”
She shook her head, then waved me off. “Oh, I’m good, boo. I know how to get in the kitchen and make magic.”
“So, you into witchcraft and shit?”
She abruptly stopped walking as she turned to face me. “Huh? What? Where’d you get that from?”
I noticed people watching me and dipped my chin to my chest like it had the ability to make me disappear. “I heardsomebody say before that women who say they be making magic in the kitchen be cooking up spells and shit too.”
She punched me in the arm, forcing me to laugh heartily. I hissed as if it really hurt. “Don’t play with me like that. I’ve never needed to cast a spell in my life.”
I held my hands up in surrender. “My bad, baby.” My eyes roamed over her little frame. I licked my lips, loving everything she had to offer. “Your presence alone is a damn spell. And those eyes. . . Please stop looking at me before I do something to you.”
“Is that a threat, Sym?”
I bent down so my lips were right by her ear. “Nah, it’s a promise, and it can get like that, so tread lightly with me, baby. I’m easy.”
She rolled her eyes, sucked her teeth, and backed away. She spun around, tossing her hair over her shoulder in the process. “I bet you are. Come on. Let’s get this over with.”
I stood in place, watching the sway of her hips as she got farther away. Little did she know, the shit between us was so far from being over with. Like, even rushing behind her with the buggy had me excited and ready for the chase to come.
The sizzling sound of the eggs in the pan calmed my nerves. The bacon was nearly finished in the oven, and I had two Ego waffles in the toaster oven. Iylah sat at the bar, looking so sleepy. I felt bad about waking her up. I decided that if she was still sleepy after she ate breakfast, I would let her go back to sleep. It wasn’t like I really had anything to do around there with her.
Finishing up with the food, I quickly made her a plate. Going into the fridge, I grabbed the carton of apple juice and an orange. I set them down before getting the syrup and a cup for her juice.She patiently waited for me to set everything up. If it weren’t for the sounds of me moving around, it would’ve been completely silent in the condo. Iylah wasn’t what I expected at all, with how reserved and quiet she was. I felt accomplished as I finished setting everything up for her.
“Unca Sym, you po’?” She motioned to the syrup.
I smiled with a nod. “Of course. I got you. Tell me when to stop.” I began pouring the syrup on her waffles until her little voice gave me the command.
“Stop!”
I chuckled, setting the bottle to the side. While she was busy eating, I went to find the learning things Leigh suggested last night. There were some coloring books, then flash cards for colors and numbers. I was determined to prove there was nothing dumb or stupid about my little Doodle Bop.
I set it all up at the dining room table and decided that, instead of letting her go back to sleep, we could work on it. By the time I made it back to the kitchen, her plate was empty, and she was draining the last drops of her juice. I picked up my orange and began to peel it.
“Full?” I asked.
She nodded. “That was good, Unca Sym. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, Doodle Bop. Come on, I want to color with you.”
She clapped her hands. “I luh color,” she told me excitedly.
Her innocent aura drowned out the stagnant energy of the lifeless condo. I helped her down from the barstool as we made our way down the hallway to the dining room. When we made it, Iylah clipped the corner entering the room. She hissed but didn’t cry. I bent down, looking her over.
“You okay?”
“I good,” she told me.
Once I was sure, I took her hand to help her into the chair. We started off just coloring because I didn’t know what to do. I picked up the blue crayon and colored on her sheet. “What color is that, Iylah?” I asked her.
She twisted her little lips to the side. “Rwed!” she said cheerily.
Picking up the red crayon, I used it to color on her paper next. “What color is this one?”
“Mmm, arnge.”
