“You know he’s gonna hate that I called you without him,” she teased me.
“That’s on you, not me.”
“I’ll never hear the end of it. Did you see the comments he left under your Facebook post?”
“I did and he’s gonna cut up if I don’t respond,” I snorkeled.
A quick check in, ended up being a thirty-minute conversation of us talking about nothing as if we don’t talk on the phone every day. I had to turn my shower water off so I wouldn’t use all the hot water. Eventually I had to end the phone call or thirty minutes would’ve turned into an hour.
I had to get myself together, so I could get my day started. The thought of Syx had my heart feeling like it was about to lodge through my chest.
When I entered the shower, the water felt amazing against my skin. I stood under the hot water for a long time, letting it cascade over my shoulders, breasts and stomach. Everything felt more alive and sensitive now. Even the simple act of washing my body felt different. But a small inkling of me knew I was missing something.
I’ve never yearned for a man after my divorce, but the sexiest thing was seeing him so eager and patient with me. Now I’m starting to think if this was all I’d been missing. It’d be hard notto fall for him if he’s able to accomplish the one thing no other man could. In the back of my mind, during the entire stay, I’d have to keep myself from admitting the one thing he told me not to do—catch feelings, which would be merely impossible.
After drying off, I did my skin care regimen which considered of serums, facial washes, sun screen and some under eye cream then I brushed my teeth and gargled some mouthwash. Then I slathered my skin with the rich Fenty Skin Butta Drop, followed by a generous spray of Snif's Hot Cakes, its warm fragrance settling on my ankles and behind my ears. Satisfied, I slipped into a simple yellow sundress and let my braids down to flow in the island breeze.
I felt restless because of the late night. Sleep didn’t take me over until the wee hours. My body was humming with a new kind of awareness, and I needed to move, to walk and process everything that happened.
The house was quiet as I padded downstairs in my beige Hermes Oran sandals. It was early afternoon. The sun high and bright, casting golden light through the windows. My stomach growled, reminding me I’d barely eaten anything since yesterday, aside from the banana. All I could think about were the conch fritters I saw on TikTok.
As I reached the bottom of the stairs, I heard Syx’s voice drifting from his office down the hall. The door was slightly ajar, and I paused, not meaning to eavesdrop but unable to help myself.
“I know baby,” he said, his voice low and intimate, the same way it’d been yesterday, and it made my stomach clench. “I miss you too.”
My feet froze to the floor.Baby?He never mentioned being in a relationship. Not that it was any of my business because our arrangement was professional, but he didn’t have to go aroundvolunteering lies either. But the way he touched me last night had me feeling like this was all personal, or was I tripping?
“Nah, it ain’t like that,” he continued, and I could hear the smile in his voice. “You know you’re my favorite girl.”
Something sharp twisted in my chest. It was raw jealousy. I had no right to feel this way. He’d been clear from the beginning about boundaries and about not catching feelings. I’m his client and our relationship is strictly transactional. I should’ve walked away and gone outside and pretended not to hear anything or I never did, but instead I found myself leaning closer, trying to hear more. It caused my heart to pound so loudly I was sure he could hear it down the hall.
“I’ll be home soon,” he said. “Just give me a couple more weeks and then?—”
I shifted my weight, trying to get closer to the door, and my elbow knocked against a decorative vase in the hallway table. It happened in slow motion. The vase teetering and my hand reached out too late because as the crash hit the hardwood floor, it shattered into a dozen pieces.
“Shit,” I hissed, dropping to my knees to gather the broken ceramic, but not that it’d do any good.
“Let me call you back,” I heard Syx say quickly, and then footsteps approaching.
I put on a show of casualness, hoping to seem like someone who had just wandered by and caused a mishap, a far cry from the reality of me having been caught eavesdropping on his intimate phone call to a woman he called "baby.”
The office door swung open, and Syx appeared, his eyes immediately taking in the scene—me on my knees surrounded by broken vase, my face flushed and my sundress riding up my thighs.
“You good?” He asked, with concern etched on his handsome face as he crouched down beside me.
“Yeah, I’m sorry. I was just—” I gestured vaguely toward the front door. “I was going to get some air and knocked it over. I’m so damn clumsy,” I lied, trying to act like I really gave a damn about the vase instead of his intimate conversation. He could buy another damn vase.
His eyes narrowed slightly, and I realized he was studying me…reallystudying me. My hair was down my back, swaying past my ass. My sundress hugged my curves. I didn’t look like someone who’d just woken up and stumbled downstairs. I looked like someone who’d been awake for a while…someone who’d been standing in the hallway for a minute too long—long enough to hear shit.
“How long you been up?” he asked casually, but there was something knowing in his tone.
“Not long,” I lied, standing up with a handful of broken ceramic. “I was just going to to grab something to eat. I’m starving,” I giggled nervously.
“You hungry?” He took the broken pieces from my aid and placed everything in the trash and swept up the rest. “What you in the mood for?”
“Conch fritters,” I retorted, grateful that he changed the subject. “I was on TikTok last night looking up things to eat and this was most raved about.”
A slow smile spread across his face showcasing his Colgate white teeth. “My treat.” He offered.
