Page 16 of Lily In The Valley
I paused, letting the soft sizzle of the pan fill the kitchen, save for my father’s breathing on the other end of the call. “They’re not the same.”
“Women like that don’t want no man telling her to slow down or sit still.”
“I’m not telling her to slow down. Her ambition is the thing I love most about her.” I clenched my jaw again, ready for this conversation to be over.
“Exactly,” he snapped. “That’s my point. It’s going to come a time when you try and push her into something she don’t want, you gon’ lose her. Yourself too.”
His words settled heavy in my chest. Even though his comments irritated me, I knew he only spoke from experience. It was all any of us could speak from. I remembered the silence after my mother left. My father moved through the house like a ghost. For months, he went to work, came home to eat, then went out in search of the love of his life. It was as if she vanished without a trace, her memory haunting us in the form of old photos and unopened mail.
“I understand what you’re saying, Pops, but that’s not Kelly. Things between us…it’s complicated.”
“Son, every damn thing in this life is complicated. Just don’t fool yourself into thinking you can fix or trap her. Just when you think you caught her, she’ll slip away like lightening in a storm.”
I nodded, even though he couldn’t see me. “Thanks for the wisdom, old man.”
“Love you, too.” He chuckled, deep and hearty. “Finish cooking. And stop moving around like you some kind of pimp. I raised you better than that. That’s probably why Kelly ain’t taking your ass serious.”
He hung up.
I stood by the stove, heat rising from the omelet threatening to burn, trying to shake off the conversation. I knew Pops had good intentions, but I’d be lying if the words didn’t leave me second-guessing.
Bare feet padded against the hardwood upstairs. The bathroom door creaked open, followed by the strong spray of water hitting the shower floors. I busied myself with plating our breakfast, and preparing Kelly’s cup of coffee. Well, her cup of cream with a splash of coffee. When she stepped into the kitchen, I also dropped the prized mug.
She’d smoothed her fussed hair into a messy bun high on her head. A silk robe clung to her curves, her skin still dewy from her shower and the oil she’d applied to her limbs. She looked like the softest thing God ever made.
“Is there a reason you’re still here?” she asked, folding her arms as she leaned against the counter. “It’s Friday morning. Shouldn’t you be at work?”
“When you the boss, you set your own hours.”
She smirked, snatching the mug from my hand. “You’re getting too comfortable here. I don’t like that.” She took a sip, moaning her satisfaction. My dick stirred in my pants. She looked up at me with affection-filled eyes buried under years of playing it cool.
“Sit down. I made breakfast.”
“You’re going to stop talking to me like I’m a child,” she quipped, making herself comfortable at the kitchen table near the window. I added some toast to her plate and placed it in front of her.
“How did you know this is exactly what I had in mind when I bought these groceries?”
“It’s my job to know.” I smiled.
“Don’t get carried away.” She took a bite of the omelet and danced in her chair. “This is good, though.”
Satisfied that she was satisfied, I grabbed my plate and sat in the chair opposite her. “I’m glad you like it. You can’t survive off caffeine and lab reports.”
She barked out a laugh. “How did you know that’s my love language?”
“Seriously, though. You good?”
She chewed slowly, then nodded. “I’m decent, I suppose. Been working like hell trying not to think about my match. I don’t have to tell you how stressed I am.”
“You’re gonna get it.”
“You sound sure.”
“I am sure. Even if it’s not your first pick, you’ll make the pivot.”
She paused, holding her mug midway to her lips. “You know me too well.”
“You know me too, and yet you’re still convinced that this thing between us is just a situationship.”
