Page 12 of Saint
“Pity me. I made a choice and I live with it every day.”
“Okay,” she replied.
“Anyway, what you see took a lot of time and hard work. But before I got to this point, I’d hit my lowest. Even though I love what I do, something has always been missing, then you came in and it was like maybe things could be different for me.”
“Saint...”
“Gavin,” I said, interrupting her statement.
Not only did I not want to hear what she had to say, but I also wanted her to know my real name. The only people who called me Gavin were my brothers, sometimes, and my mother who I hadn’t talked to in months. Every woman I’d been with since I’d gotten out of prison, my brothers, and even my clients all called me Saint.
“Excuse me?” she asked, her brows knitted in confusion.
“Gavin Lawson. My name is Gavin, not Saint.”
She smiled. “Gavin. I’m not denying there’s something about you.” She sighed. “What we just shared was amazing.”
“I hear a but coming,” I said, stepping away from her.
Her shoulders slumped, but I ignored it. I pulled up my pants and handed her clothes to her. She grabbed them, but sadness covered her face.
I knew where the conversation was headed, and I hated it. Of course, I didn’t expect us to magically start a relationship. I wasn’t idiotic. But I wanted to spend more time with her to see if something could develop between us. If not a relationship, maybe a friendship.
Who the fuck was I kidding? Angel was right. She was out of my league.
“We don’t know each other.”
“But we could get to know one another,” I replied as I watched her dress. I wanted so badly to snatch the fabric back off her body.
“Gavin. I just divorced my husband of twenty-two years.”
“And what does that have to do with me, Oya? I just want to get to know you. What’s so wrong with that?”
She laughed. “How old are you, Gavin?”
“What’s my age have to do with anything?” I asked a little defensively.
Yes, I was younger than her, but that shit didn’t matter to me. I saw a woman I wanted to know more about. Fuck her age and mine.
“A lot.” She sighed. “A lot of men don’t understand that it may be acceptable for them to date a younger woman, but it doesn’t work the same for women. I’m forty-six years old, Gavin. I also have a son who’s probably a few years younger than you.”
She didn’t look her age, and I was shocked she even had a son. None of it changed my mind about what I thought of her. I stillwanted her, but I could see where she was coming from. She had a son my age. How would I deal with that? Which was probably the reason she told me. But I also had things she didn’t know about me too. Like I’d been convicted and sent to prison when I was seventeen years old and had only been out for three years. Could she handle that?
After a few moments of silence, she smiled but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’ve got to go. I’ve got work in the morning.”
I reached for her hand. “Please stay,” I said, my heart squeezing in my chest.
If she walked out tonight, this was possibly the last time I’d see her. And I didn’t want that. I didn’t know shit about Oya. But I didn’t want that to stop whatever this could be. I could learn about her, and she could learn about me.
“I can’t,” she said, and my shoulders deflated.
She intertwined our fingers and walked towards the door. I didn’t fight her. She’d made up her mind. Maybe in a few days, she might think differently, and I still had to do her tattoo. When we reached the front of the shop, she faced me.
“I still owe you a tattoo.”
She laughed and it was like music to my ears. “I’ll reschedule. I promise.” She kissed me on the lips, then pulled away. “You’ll never understand how much this night meant to me. Thank you, Gavin.”
She pushed open the door and walked to her car parked in front of the shop. She unlocked the doors, and glanced up at me, giving me a small wave before she slid behind the wheel and pulled away from the curb.
