Casually, I removed myself from his embrace and rolled to the opposite side of the bed. Palming the bed, I looked down as my toes rubbed against each other. Since the lights were off, I couldn’t see them, but it gave me something to focus on instead of my thoughts. I didn’t know if I wanted to go home or talk about it. This shit was new to me. Usually I didn’t give a fuck about a woman who was alive, so it was blowing me that I was worried about one who wasn’t even here anymore.
Ishmael promised to be patient with me, but I wasn’t sure if the topic of Jessica was included in that.
“Gone to the bathroom or whatever you gotta do and bring your ass on back so I can go to sleep.”
Even with his sleepy ass sounding grumpy as hell, I smiled. We’d gotten to the point where if he wasn’t sleeping at my place I was sleeping at his when his schedule allowed. My schedule was pretty much always free around this time, mainly because I didn’t see clients after midnight. Me and Candy were doing the friend thing, but we didn’t really go out until the weekend.
“You act like you can’t go to sleep unless I’m on you.”
“I can’t. So gone.”
That only made me feel worse as my chest tightened, but I had to get this off my chest in order to regain my peace. Running my hand down the back of my head and neck, I released a tired sigh before asking, “Am I her replacement?”
In the dark silence, I could feel him turn his head my way and look in my direction. “Are you whose replacement?”
“…Jessica’s.”
“Where the fuck that come from?”
“I went through the rooms before I left to see which one I wanted to use for my office space and the one that is closest to your room is the one I liked best. But I saw those initials by the bench at the window and… it fucked with me. We started messing off right after she died, and I just, I don’t want your feelings for me as your rebound to blind you into thinking it’s more. I mean I get it if you still love her. I’m sure you will always love her but…”
I felt the dent in the bed when he moved but I wasn’t expecting Ishmael to wrap his arm around me and pull me back into the middle of the bed.
“Those aren’t me and Jessica’s initials. They are, but I didn’t put them there. I bought this house from Jacob and Iyana. It was their starter home, and they stayed here until their children left for college. I didn’t even realize the initials were there until after I moved in, but I felt like it was a sign that she was good and I could move on.”
“Ish, I’m…”
Before I could even get it out, his hand was cupping my cheek and he was pulling me to his lips. They told me everything I needed to hear without the need for him to vocalize it, but it did make my heart skip a beat when he said, “I’m wit’ you ‘cause I wanna be wit’ you. Aight?” I nodded and placed another kiss to his lips. “I don’t ever wanna hear no shit like that come out yo mouth again. I love you, Rosalyn.”
I was honestly glad the lights were off because I was sure my face looked a whole hot mess. My mouth opened wide as I stared blankly, unable to believe the confession that had rolled from his lips so effortlessly. Blinking rapidly, I inhaled deep breaths as my heart began to palpitate. Before I could melt into a full-blown panic attack, Ishmael soothed me quickly by taking my hand into his and placing a tender kiss to my forehead.
“I love your ass, and there ain’t a damn thing you can do about it. But don’t feel obligated to say that shit back. My love for you ain’t tied to you loving me. That shit went out the window when I fell in love with you three years ago.”
Cupping his cheeks, I nodded as I covered his lips with mine. Truth of the matter was, I did love Ishmael, but I was scared to accept or admit that fully because of my secret. I honestly felt like the moment I expressed that, things would get real, and my secret would come out. Men like him, love like this, didn’t happen for women like me. It was best if I made the most of this now while we were on good terms, because there was no doubt in my mind that Ishmael’s perception and acceptance of me would change the moment he found out the truth about me.
Chapter 8
Ishmael
Rosalyn was a piece of work. In the same moment, she was irritating the fuck out of me, but I thought what she was doing was cute as hell too. She didn’t think I knew, but I knew when her cycle stopped and started. For the past three years, I’d been fucking with her faithfully. Some things you just noticed.
While I was a client, it was cool when she wanted to disappear for a week and not see me. But with us talking now, it wasn’t gon’ be none of that. We had exchanged keys to each other’s homes, and she knew I was good for kicking a door in, but she was still playing these games like I wouldn’t pull up on her for any and everything. I understood that her pride had her feeling some type of way, so instead of picking the lock of her bedroom door to see her, I was sitting on the floor leaned against it talking to her.
“Ros. Open the door, love.”
“No! I don’t want you to see me like this.”
Chuckling quietly, I lowered my head as it shook. “It’s a pimple, Rosalyn. I’m sure it can’t be that bad.”
“It is to me,” she whined, and I could tell she was on the verge of tears. That was the only reason I was giving her as much patience and empathy as I was. To me, she was making something out of less than nothing, but she swore I felt that way because I was a man and I didn’t understand.
“Baby. Open the door. I don’t care about that shit, man.”
“No, Ishmael. This is exactly why I don’t take clients the third week of the month! Not only am I on my period, but I break out, too! I hate getting pimples!”
“You got one minute to open this door otherwise I’m picking the lock and coming in.”
Standing, I leaned against the wall just in case she decided to act right for a change and opened it. With a loud groan, Rosalyn opened the door. I smiled as I opened it. The moment I laid eyes on her, I immediately was about to clown her for making a big deal out of nothing, but instead, I couldn’t resist the urge to fuck with her by letting out an exaggerated, “Daaammmnnn,” like Craig and Smokie on Friday.
As soon as I did, she swung at my chest, but I grabbed her and pulled her into my arms. “I’m just playing, girl,” I assured her through my laugh.
The pimple she was all worked up about was big and it did look painful, but it wasn’t anything for her to trip about. There were no other bumps or dark marks on her perfect skin.
“You play too much!”
“I’m sorry.”
She didn’t take my apology seriously because I was laughing and I couldn’t blame her, but the shit was funny as hell to me. As soon as my laughing subsided, I calmed myself down and tried to be compassionate. I turned her around in my arms.
“What’s the problem, love? You’re still just as beautiful as you’ve always been.”
“No, I’m not. Look at it, Ishmael! It’s fucking huge! And it won’t go away.”
Unable to resist, I tapped her forehead, including the pimple, and commanded it to, “Loose here!” like my grandma used to do me and my brothers when she said we had the devil in us. As soon as I did it, we both died laughing. She laughed until she had tears in her eyes, and that’s what I wanted to see. At this point, I was willing to say and do whatever it took to make her happy in this moment.