Love Delivered (45 page)

“Okay,” Jordan smiles over his ice cream.

“Okay, pumpkin?” I parrot, dubiously.

“Yeah, it’s cool. My dad is the best. He’ll be real nice to you, Mommy.” Jordan dollops his ice cream as he regards his father.

Stenton smiles a real smile. An impressed smile.

Things go quiet for a moment until Jordan asks, “This is like different from Jemma, right?”

Stenton’s eyes go big. He’s panicking, and while I don’t relish my child knowing who a “Jemma” is, I see he doesn’t know her well enough to know her name.

“No.” Stenton shakes his head adamantly. “Nothing like that either.”

Stenton’s out of wits, but Jordan’s full of them. It’s quite amusing…and
conjures questions
. I take a minute to consider my thoughts before speaking. When I observe Jordan is totally transfixed with his ice cream, I go for it.

I grab my glass of water. “When was the last time you”—I clear my throat, covertly—“dated?” I then take a sip.

In my periphery, I see Stenton’s eyes flutter, obviously catching my drift. As my gaze lands on him, he straightens in his seat and clears his throat, too.

“In March,” he answers with forced confidence.

Wow! March?
I don’t know how to feel. I want to be upset…but why? Stenton didn’t start pressuring me about still being in love until June of this year. But why do I feel jealous about him giving his stuff—good stuff…toe curling, award-winning stuff—to another woman? I shake it off as soon as jealousy tries to creep in. Only he conjures that particular insecurity in me.

Stenton’s mine!

We may not be intimate…yet, but we’re still together. When we’re ready, his “good stuff” will belong to me, exclusively. Finally.

“When was the last time you”—I cough and quickly shoot out—“restrained someone?”

“August of 2010,” he answers without hesitation, though I can see the arousal in his incited composure.

August 2010? August 2010?

That was when we spent several of the best days of my life, forgetting about the pain, confusion and frustrations of our relationship. It was just before another bout with darkness from Erika’s untimely announcement to the world. Stenton and I made love both sweetly and intently for lengthy days and nights. Without words, he was able to make me forget about everything. With his hungry mouth, he communicated the only message I needed to hear at the time. I found my eyes abruptly diverting to his mouth.

“Excuse me, I need the ladies room.” My voice sounds strange, even to my own ears.

Stenton’s suspicious eyes find mine. Jordan’s face is still buried in his porcelain bowl finding more entertainment in his ice cream as I abruptly leave the table.

~~~~~~~~~~

August 2014

~
Zoey
~

Almost a week later, after church service, we’ve just finished a lip-smacking dinner at a country club in Scotch Plains. It so happens to be the sister club to
Moorestown Creek
, the place where I met Stenton. He had Srey reserve a rather large room here to celebrate my dad’s birthday. The sun is pushing through the tall windows of the room, highlighting its opulence. The staff is busting in and out of the double flap doors from the service kitchen, supplying refilled drinks and setting up the dessert table.

Jordan is running around the perimeter of the room with the stick airplane my dad made him, pretending to soar. He’s animated even without the awaiting sugar from desserts. Ruth is at the end of the table, fussing with Stenton about pictures on social media. Whose pictures, I’m not quite sure, but I do know it’s one of Stenton’s celebrity friends. I even hear her slip a few vulgarities into her arguments. I don’t say anything because Jordan doesn’t seem to have caught them. I’m simply relieved Stenton hasn’t joined her. These two constantly go at it, but never fail to engage each other. I guess he’s the brother Ruth’s never had. Funny, when I met him, I resented that little sister role I felt Stenton forced me into. Now, we’re…together.

Hmmmm…

My parents are not too far behind Ruth and Stenton. They’re perusing Facebook, commenting on the content there. I swear I hated the moment my mom signed up for Facebook. She has pictures of Jordan all over, showing off her pride and joy. This is something I’ve avoided on my own social media accounts over the years, not wanting to over-expose him. Now she’s talking Instagram and I could just croak.

“I’m taking JR to the bathroom,” my dad calls over to me.

I nod my acknowledgement. When they leave the room, my mother waves me over to her. I suck my teeth while standing to my feet. When I arrive, I plop down into the seat my dad vacated. Instinctively, my arms encircle her soft and plump frame and I find instant comfort.

“I have zero interest in your Facebook friends, Momma,” I muffle into her shoulder.

She giggles. “Dear, I have no interest in you seeing the happenings of my Facebook life. I just wanted to know why you’ve been pouting all afternoon. You and Stenton okay? You’re back together now, right?”

I nod my head into her shoulder.

“Then why the physical distance. You two should be no more than a half an inch away from each other in this phase.”

I shrug, my arms still around her. “We’re fine.”

“With the way he’s pouting over there like he’s jealous of the attention you’re giving me, I don’t think so, dear,” she keeps her voice low.

“Trust me, Stenton and I are finally going at this the right way. One thing we’ve never been good at together is pacing ourselves. We rush, we manipulate and get it all wrong. I don’t want it to go wrong this time. I want this thing to be right.”

She pats the side of my face with her left hand. “Okay, baby. If you think
right
is being so far away from him, maybe you can teach this thirty-five-year marital veteran something about love in this new day and age.”

My head jerks up. “Don’t be patronizing, Momma.”

“And don’t use those formal words that you do with your staff. I’m your momma. And that…” she gestures to Stenton who’s trying to avert his eyes from me. “…young man wants me to be his official mother-in-law. That won’t happen with you over here, laying out on your momma. You don’t get a man that way. And if you can in this new age, I ain’t with that type of freaky stuff. Do you catch my drift, young lady?” her tone is definitely patronizing.

“Yes, ma’am,” I shrill.

What my momma doesn’t know is three nights ago, on our last date, when the car arrived at my apartment to drop me off, Stenton and I were locked at the lips, under each other’s garments gripping skin and moaning like a pair of horny teens. If it weren’t for the door slamming closed from his driver giving us privacy, reminding us that we weren’t alone, we would have engaged in copulation right there in his truck.

After a long shower, I was overcome with guilt and disappointment in myself. Stenton and I could never pace ourselves. Yeah, it took us months to sleep with each other, but that’s only because we didn’t see each other until I could take it no more. The thing I can’t get out of my head is Stenton’s vulnerability that night in my arms. It was like he reveled there. His breathing was erratic and touch desperate, but not in an aggressive manner. The emotions behind his caress were needy. It scared me that night, very similar to my first orgasm with him. I understood something good and powerful was pending, but wasn’t quite ready to collide with it. How long I’ll be able to hold out—from myself—I don’t know.

My phone goes off. I grab it from my clutch back at my seat. It’s one of the managers from the second
Niña’s Sweet Cakes
location in Philly following up with a report on his mother who’s been hospitalized. He can’t make his opening shift in the morning. The place is being inspected at ten and a manager needs to be there. I let go of a long breath after excusing him. It was enough that I had to work late tonight, but now I have to prepare myself mentally to be there in the morning. I was really looking forward to sleeping in tomorrow since Jordan will be leaving for camp from Stenton’s.

When I glance up, I find a skipping Jordan and my dad coming back into the room.

“Perfect timing. I have to get to work,” I announce to the room.

“Now?” my dad questions.

“Yeah. I hope not to run into traffic because that’ll definitely make me late.”

I glance over at Stenton. Mid-sentence with Ruth, he nods.

“What fun is there in running your own business if you still have to beat the clock?” My dad pouts.

“The boss has parameters, too,” I murmur as I hug Jordan.

When I make my way over to Stenton, I ask if he will walk me out. He stands immediately and I yell my goodbyes to my family before heading out the door. When we arrive at my car, I turn to Stenton, wrap my arms around his neck and bury my face in his chest. He smells like virile heaven. I find myself taking long breaths as his big hands rest at the small of my back.

“This is why I can’t be too close to you,” I whisper, it’s all I have in me.

“Why?” Stenton sounds concerned.

“Because I lose myself in your scent and warmth and hardness and—”

“And then I get hard.”

I giggle and he joins me with an unguarded chuckle. When I peer up, I see Stenton is no longer smiling. That wipes mine away. He lowers his neck just a bit and I think he’s going to kiss me with those full heart-shaped lips. He doesn’t. He simply studies each inch of my face with fastened discernment. He angles his head to the side and Stenton’s eyes squint with adoration for what he sees. His hand comes up and with his thumb, he traces my eyebrow then his calloused pad drags down to my nose to swipe the tip—all of this while his eyes bounce in wonderment of what he sees. When his thumb descends down to my mouth, he traces the lining of it gently, similar to the maneuver Jacques executed years ago. This feels different, though. This feels like affection. It feels like protection from proprietorship. I feel a mutual connection. I feel loved by this man.

“I’m being childish with this pacing stuff.” I avert my eyes in shame.

“Nah,” his deep vocals hum. “It’s cool, Zo. I’ll wait as long as you need.”

I grimace. “Are you sure?”

“Are you mine?” he quickly tosses back.

I grab his left hand and point out my initial on his ring finger. “If you need to add my middle and last initials to make the declaration, we can arrange for it on my day off next week.”

A slow smile opens up on his handsome face, and his smile releases the weights in my chest. Stenton then presses his warm and soft lips on my forehead.          

“You gotta get outta here, kiddo.”

I nod. “Call you later…before JR goes down?”

“You can call JR before JR goes down. You can FaceTime me after JR goes down.” His lips twitch into a mischievous grin. I can’t help my ear-splitting grin as I turn to get into the car.

My day is hard and long. As I sit behind the counter of the bakery, relieved to be off my feet for the past ten minutes, I mindlessly count the sprinkles on one of the cupcakes from the mural on the wall, it’s that eye catching. It should be, I paid a grip for it in all my locations for the uniformed look. As I change my view, raking my eyes over to the window, something feels off. It’s 9:45 at night and the heavy traffic has finally slowed. I called Jordan an hour ago to say goodnight. I did the final count and locked the safe in the back. Something still feels off.

I look down at the floor. My feet are swollen in my ‘Verses, and my lower back is throbbing. My khaki shorts are wrinkled and black blouse is powdered with sugar and god only knows what else I’ve been into these past five or so hours.

“Is this the life of a “baker”?” I mumble to myself.

“Ms. Barrett, the ovens, counters and fridges are all cleaned. Jonathan cleaned the bathrooms before he clocked out,” Amirah informs.   

She’s one of the employees at this location. A bright Drexel student, she’s been a go-getter without a solid plan, reminding me of a younger me. She’s cute and sharp, but with varied direction. I certainly don’t want her spending the next fifteen minutes in a darn bakery with a sulking boss.

“You can go now, Amirah. I know you need time to get ready for the movies.” I smile wryly.

“Really? Thanks, Ms. Barrett!” She claps her hands together excitedly. “I’ll see you on Tuesday.”

Amirah skips towards the back to get her things before leaving for the night. I’m left alone…well, not exactly. I have security outside. It’s great for peace of mind now that Stenton Rogers’ followers know who I am and where I work. As the clock approaches 10:00 p.m., I start fantasizing about the gargantuan glass of wine I’ll have during my bath tonight.

But no self-fondling tonight, Zo!

Ugh! No orgasms for me tonight. I pack up all my things and then lock up the shop. My ride home seems to take forever and the start of a heavy downpour on the way doesn’t help my mood. Once in the apartment, I head straight to the kitchen and pour a glass of cabernet. After starting my bath, tying my hair up into a sloppy ponytail, then stripping down to nothing, I drag my weighty body into the tub. Immediately my mind struggles to discover what could have me feeling this…off. My limbs relax, but I still feel wrestled.