Love Delivered (36 page)

My eyes scrape up his body, passing his acute erection and up his chest to land on his eyes. They got locked there for what felt like minutes long until I was able to pull them away. I dried my hands and lifted the tub to dump in the powder room. When I returned, I lotioned Stenton’s feet in silence. I could feel the burn of his gape, but refused to acknowledge it. We’d already crossed so many lines. When I stood to gather the bottles I’d used, Stenton’s big hands clamped on to my lower arm. I glanced up at him, confused by the move.

“You ever met that time in your life where you have this short period of insanity? That small stretch of time where you can do whatever crazy things you want without considering the consequences? It’s because you know you’ll likely never get the opportunity again. You may never feel the euphoria again, so you just go for it.”

My breath caught in my chest at the reference. I could have sworn he recited my words from five years ago. I was dazed. Trying to discern the significance in his recollection and regurgitation, I was lost in the moment. And when Stenton inched closer and closer, nearing my frozen face, I couldn’t breathe. All I could think about was the desire in the maneuver. How the way Jae made me feel so menial and paltry the night before didn’t matter in that moment because without effort, Stenton could allay it all with just a simple gesture. He’s really close now. So close I can almost taste the tequila on his breath. Then he slowed, then stopped. It was as if he was giving me an opportunity to deny him, or myself, of this forbidden embrace.

Did I want it? Heck, yes! Would it be wrong? Well, yeah! Was it good for me? That one was debatable. But I wanted Stenton. At this point, being able to feel the cool air from his nostrils hit my face, there was no area of my body that wouldn’t welcome his hands or mouth. And apparently, not even my mouth wanted to turn him away as it parted of its own will. That must have been his invitation because he moved closer to the point of touch, and—

Bang. Bang.

There was an urgent knock at the door. Both our heads swung erect at the sound. Stenton glanced behind him, in the area of the sound although the living room was closed off to the foyer.

He turned back to me. “Were you expecting someone?”

My face wrinkled. “I don’t get unannounced guests. Kind of too isolated for that occurrence.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Stenton jumped to his feet, slipping into his house shoes and headed out of the room and to the door. I was a few steps behind him from clearing the bottles from the floor to make room.

My steps were halted when I heard him nearly screech. “What the hell are you doing here?”

From that screech, I knew who it was immediately. I have no idea why. It wasn’t like I was accustomed to having his world spill over into my life. It wasn’t even a mild possibility that crept into my head over the past few days. Perhaps because it felt like déjà vu. But I knew it was Stenton’s girlfriend, Jenna at my door.

“What. The. Hell. Are. You. Doing. At. My. Son’s. Home?” Stenton’s tone was frightening. My eyes ballooned.

“
I
-I,” Jenna’s voice sounded delicate. Cautioned. “…heard about your friend Quincy while away and jumped on the next plane. I tried calling, emailing, and texting, but you didn’t respond.”

“How did you know I was here? How do you even know where my child lives?”

“Srey told me.”

“She’s not authorized to give the address of my son’s home.” He exhaled, visibly frustrated, from my anterior view.

She’s your girlfriend, idiot!

“Stenton, I am…” she sounded off clinically. “We are together. Why would she withhold this type of information, especially under the circumstances?”

He quickly bit back, “Because he shares this place with his mother, who deserves privacy!”

I jumped at that. Things went quiet for a few moments and I hoped Stenton was cooling his hooves. I just wanted both of them gone at this point.

“I’m sorry for that.” He exhaled again. “Listen, Jenna. Go home. I’ll meet you there and catch you up on everything.”

“I can wait for you.”

“No!”

“Stenton!” Jenna wheezed. “What is going on? Why haven’t you welcomed me in? Is Zoey there? I’m sure she wouldn’t mind.”

“Of course she’s here. It’s her place, but they’re sleeping. It’s late. I’ll meet you at your place.”

“Stenton, please. It’s a two hour drive. We can drive together.”

“That won’t be necessary. I need to stop off at my place for a few things.”

“Fine!” she hissed and from the sounds of it stomped off.

Stenton closed the door and steeled in place, not turning to face me. All I could think about was how guarded Jordan and I were, living in a refurbished warehouse that no one would automatically assume was a large luxury apartment. How she was able to walk up and knock on my door without resistance. But of course this was the phenomenon; she was Stenton’s woman and had access to his life. Why he created a barrier to it for Jordan and me and I didn’t understand.

That aside, I had more pending questions, issues…dilemmas. Those feelings of inferiority had returned. Jenna’s arrival reminded me of his choice. His decision. Stenton had chosen her and not me. I was about to cross the line, allow myself to be a secret lover all under the guise of nothing or no one being bigger than
Stenton and Zoey
. I had allowed myself to believe that giving myself to him while he belonged to someone else was fine because…again, we were
Stenton and Zoey
. We were soul mates who could never free each other from the magnetic pull of our chemistry. Bullcrap! Stenton didn’t want me. If he had, he’d’ve chosen me long ago.

Stenton finally turned to me, wearing an apologetic expression. “Look, Zo—” 

“Why are you here?”

“Come again…?”

“Why did you come here? When Quincy died, why did you ask Srey to call me? Why disrupt my resolve of there never being an “us” instead of calling your uncle, Sarah…or…or Maggie for instance? Why call me? Why continue the charade of “Mess with Zoey’s Head?”

“Zo—”

“DON’T!” I screamed, then decided to lower my voice. “Don’t
Zo
me. Don’t call me. Don’t bother me anymore, Stenton. Just let me go. Let me be. Let me live, and you be a good man to the apparently good woman you just kicked out of your “
son’s home
.”

I walked off to my room. In a fit of anger, I snatched the bedding from my mattress, throwing them into the corner, exerting more energy than necessary. I didn’t hear from Stenton for the rest of that night, didn’t want to or expect to. But perceptively, I knew he was gone. And that bitterness I’d developed for him in Rio de Janeiro increased tenfold.

November 2012

~
Zoey
~

“Could you remind me once again why we’re here?” I attempted to speak low and without moving my lips, thinking Jordan wouldn’t hear, and neither could anyone on the other side of the door.

“Because we were invited,” my mother replied in the same manner, avoiding my imploring eyes.

If we weren’t on the steps of Jenna’s modest Englewood colonial, I’d give Sarah Barrett a
small
piece of my mind regarding her stubbornness and imperceptible need to support this man and his shenanigans. And I was even tempted to start until the door swung open.

“You’re here!” Jenna noted and grabbed Jordan into her arms as if she had some level of familiarity with him.

Of course we made it. You wisely called Sarah Barrett instead of me to get me here.

I wouldn’t dare whisper that to Jenna. She’d been nothing but kind to me. Even since leaving my apartment that dismal night, over two months ago, I hadn’t heard from her…or Stenton, thankfully.

I attempted a warm smile when she turned to me. “Hi, Jenna. Thanks for having us.”

We stepped over the threshold and I was hit with the aroma of culinary right away. My mom smiled politely as always. I had to give it up to her for sticking by my side even through my baby’s daddy drama.

“Are you kidding me? I’ve been begging Stenton to gather us for months now. He didn’t do it yesterday on the actual Thanksgiving holiday, saying he didn’t want to break Sarah’s tradition of hosting and didn’t want to impose by inviting Momma and me. So, the next best thing was to have you over right after while everyone is still in the holiday spirit.” Jenna scanned my mother’s hands. “Here.” She put Jordan on his feet and turned to relieve my mother of the baking dish she’d brought. “Let me get this and take it into the kitchen. Take off your coats, I’ll get Stent and my mother, who are upstairs, and be right back.”

Jenna took off into another room. The mention of Stenton being upstairs spoke intimacy that made my stomach toil. I didn’t dwell on it much. What did snatch my attention was my mother staring at me suspiciously.

“My tradition?” she whispered before calling Jordan. “Come here, JR. Let MaMa take off your coat.”

I knew that would catch her attention. It had been messages and gestures of that very nature that had bemused me over the years. I was only glad my mother was finally getting a dose of Stenton’s insensate ways. I was over it. Tired of trying to figure him out. I’d moved into a new lane. One of finding me and getting over Stenton Rogers. The only reason I was here was to appease my mother, who found it unreasonable to decline Jenna’s invitation when she called her out of the blue over a week ago, asking her to attend tonight and to bring Jordan and me. Why not call me? If you can stalk my mother, why not use those same techniques to phish for my number? She did, after all, find my home address.

“Daddy!” Jordan yelped, turning my attention to the lanky grimacing figure at the landing of the steps. Or at least he was scowling at me. He looked painfully delicious in a black crew neck sweater with the sleeves rolled, exposing his skin art and blue denims. When Stenton’s eyes went to my mother, they softened, and when they hit Jordan, they lit up.

Well, screw you, StentRo!

Jordan literally climbed his dad, barely giving him the room he needed when he reached out and offered my mother a one-armed hug. 

“Sarah B, always a pleasure,” Stenton bestowed on my mother a kiss that widened her already welcoming smile. And then he smiled. Those two together. I fought not to roll my eyes.

Jenna appeared behind him, lacing her hands at her pelvis and gushing over the sickening scene.

Stenton then shifted to me, bringing his long arm around my shoulders, bringing with it his tantalizing signature Bergamot scent that never failed to do something to me. Stenton rested his soft full lips on my forehead. My blood boiled in fury at the way my body responded to his scent, touch—

“Elizabeth,” he greeted lowly. And vocal chords.

“Stent…” I cleared my throat. “Stenton. You look…season fit. Thanks for having us over with Jenna and family.”

When Stenton withdrew, his searing gaze hit me. He didn’t respond to my dig, but Jenna did.

“Oh, it’ll just be my mother, Maggie. You remember her. Right, Zoey? We don’t have a large family like I assume you do.”

Her statement was expectant. I could tell right away Jenna wanted answers more than she meant to give an explanation of there being a small party for dinner this evening.

Instead of giving her what she was asking for, I nodded softly. “Well, again, thanks for having us.”

I watched as Jenna’s arms encircled Stenton’s tapered waist. I didn’t react to the stinging it caused in the back of my throat. What was unexpected was the way Stenton maneuvered out of her hold, placing Jordan on his feet.

“Maggie!” he called up the steps.

Minutes later, Jenna’s mother, Maggie, came down the stairs, holding tightly to the rail to the point of trembling. When she hit the bottom step, Jenna rushed to her side. “Mom, what are you doing without your cane?”

Maggie brushed her off with the hand opposite of the railing. “Girl, please.” Then Maggie’s eyes turned to my mother. She squinted. “Mmmhmm.” Then her eyes made their way to me. “Well…well…well. Look at who we have here,” she announced dryly. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again… Unless you’re the type who can brave going to his wedding.”

“Well, you know what they say about the baby’s mother, Maggie,” I started, recalling her insertion of me calling her Mrs. Brown in Brazil. “You can never get rid of us, right?” I smile. “It’s been a while. How has your recovery been from the cosmetic surgery? What has changed?”

Maggie issued me the most deathly glower, and instead of allowing it to upset me, I had to keep from laughing in her face. It didn’t help that I’d had two shots of the expensive tequila Stenton kept at my parents’ before we left for Jenna’s.

“Maggie, this is Sarah Barrett, Zoey’s mother and Jordan’s grandmother.” Stenton poses to Maggie. He then turned to my mother. “Sarah, this is Jenna’s mother, Maggie.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Maggie. From my conversation with Jenna on the phone I could tell she’s a well-mannered young lady. I’m sure you’re to credit.” My mother smiled as her hand went straight out to Maggie. This was all for Maggie to take her sweet time reciprocating. It pissed me off beyond repair.

“Mother,” Jenna urged Maggie.

It took a few seconds more before she took my mother’s proffered hand for a quick shake and withdrew. Then I moved in.

Maggie may have been a miserable and antagonistic woman, but she would not attack Sarah Barrett. If she tried, I’d annihilate her without a second thought. I brought this drama to my mother’s door. I could be attacked, but not Sarah Barrett or Jordan Michael Rogers. We were in for an interesting evening.

“Sarah, let’s go eat,” Stenton demanded with more base in his voice than I was accustomed to. We all followed him into the modest sized dining room.

We’d just finished up dinner that was a bit on the lean side and nothing I was used to eating for Thanksgiving. There was a beef roast with no gravy, carrots and no yams, string beans yet no collard greens, roasted potatoes, but not mashed potatoes. It was, quite honestly, culture shock to me, and I’m sure my mother, who wouldn’t dare react to the skimpy menu. Jenna brought out my mother’s cream cheese pound cake and a pumpkin pie.
Pumpkin pie?
Black folks don’t eat pumpkin pie.
Where’s the sweet potato?
Instead of commenting on it, I took another chug of the 2010 Domaine Le Clos du Caillou Chateauneuf du Pape Reserve I brought over. It seemed to be the one thing Maggie and I agreed on tonight. I was one glass behind her.

Everyone except for Maggie opted for my mother’s pound cake. It was delicious as usual. She would have made her famous apple pie, and though she knew Stenton would enjoy it, she felt the cake would be more preferable to him. Why she gave so much thought to this infuriating man, I didn’t know.

“Oh, my goodness!” Jenna shrieked, snatching all of our attention. “This tastes… It tastes…” She looked to Stenton. “This tastes like the one you make me, but—no offense, honey—better. Did he share the recipe with you and you nailed it? I tried and couldn’t even get it as good as his.” She winked at my mother.

My fork slammed in my saucer. With hard eyes I observed Stenton. “You shared my family recipes?”

Stenton’s angled his head to the side and relaxed his eyes, begging my pardon.

Before he could speak, Jenna chimed in. “Oh, Stent cooks for me all the time. He has this delicious chicken marinade he makes—”

“I don’t cook for anyone but Jordan. I may have shared a meal I’ve cooked, but I don’t cook for anyone else,” Stenton qualified. Then he turned to me. “I haven’t shared recipes with anyone either. I may have cooked with someone else in the kitchen and used their assistance, but I’ve never taught anyone anything.”

“So, how’s dating life going for you?” Maggie briskly and abruptly asked, staring me square in the face. I was convinced it was a deliberate move on her part.

The table went quiet.

I grabbed my glass and the bottle of wine and poured the last of it. And while I did, I muttered, “Now, Maggie, surely you have more class than to ask such a personal question in front of my son, particularly with you being a virtual stranger and all.”

“Momma!” Jenna hissed. “Please.”

Maggie raised her palms in the air defensively. “Okay. Fair game.” She folded her arms, resting them on the table. “I can ask about your little business. How’s the bakery? Jenna told me it’s like the Little Engine That Could. I’m sure it…keeps you busy. Would that be too personal or inappropriate for the table?”

“Well, I wouldn’t call the business little,” my mother asserted defensively. Maggie wanted to spar again, I gathered. And I was ready.

“Engine? I don’t know how small an engine can be to service two locations, with one being in affluent Philadelphia, which is keeping me quite busy.” I then mimicked her posture at the table. I wouldn’t even look at Stenton, refused to or I’d crack.

“Oh!” Jenna noted. “I didn’t know you had two locations. I’d only known about the one, which is all Stenton has told me.”

“Oh, that’s cute. It sounds like a nice project for Stenton’s baby’s mother to keep busy,” Maggie, cut in again, and cracked a tight smile, smoothing out all her wrinkles.

“Welp, StentRo, sounds like you need to keep the lady in your life more abreast with what’s going on with your baby’s momma.” I flashed a bright smile, ignoring wrinkled Maggie, while fighting the urge to burst out in laughter at the tomfoolery taking place. 

Stenton’s jaw tightened as he was turned to Jordan, cleaning the morsels of bread that dropped from his mouth onto the table. His glare was cautionary, and I didn’t care.

“Well, that’s why I wanted this dinner tonight. Stenton doesn’t talk about you guys at all. He only refers to you as family and I can tell you’re special to him. And I would like to be in his life for a while…” Jenna gives a bashful grin at putting her desire for a forever with Stenton out there. “…and hopefully start a family of our own to blend with yours.”

“We already have a unit. If you want to join us, that’s fine,” Maggie amended for Jenna.

“I couldn’t have said it any better, Maggie. We are a tight unit,” I inserted, smiling affectionately at my matriarch, who, in turn communicated an admonishing message through tight eyes, forcing me to clean it up. “But Jenna, you’ve been very gracious in extending the olive branch. I appreciate it.”

“Yes.” Jenna acknowledged. “And I would also like to have Jordan around sometime. I’d like to have fun with him. We don’t have much in the back yard, but can order some fun stuff for us to play with. I also have a spare bedroom.”

“That’s actually my sewing room,” Maggie corrected.

“Mother, you’re never in there. I’m sure we can clear that stuff out and make room for Jordan for when he’s ready to come over.” She craned her neck to see on the side of Stenton, over to Jordan. “Would you like that, Jordan?”

“That has yet to be discussed,” Stenton informed with a terse tone.

I squinted my eyes at Stenton, who now refused to acknowledge me. Why is he so adamant about not sharing his personal life with his son? It made me livid. I almost wanted to suggest the first weekend for Jordan to stay just to challenge him, but quickly thought against it. I would never sacrifice my child to spite his father. Jordan didn’t deserve that. No child did. I’d just have to find some other way to burn Stenton.

“Okay…” Jenna sang, clearly attempting to move past that humiliating moment.

“Sarah, I found it strange that you’re Zoey’s mother, but Jenna called
you
to set up this meal. If I didn’t know any better I’d think you’re
Stenton’s
mom. It gives me the impression that you two are close, and that is odd considering how reticent a man he is.” Maggie shook her head as she forked more pumpkin pie. She paused for seconds before correcting her statement. “The only person I know him to open up to is Jenna, of course.”

“The perception of Sarah being my mother is correct, seeing she’s the closest thing to one,” Stenton muttered while leaning over, wiping Jordan’s mouth.