by Tina Martin
Romulus frowned. “What are you talking about, man? I know Derra loves me.”
Ramsey shook his head. “She’s in love with you, Rom, and if you ask me, she’s been in love with you for years.”
Romulus shook his head again in defiance although he’d known that Siderra may have had some deeper feelings for him. He chose to ignore those feelings just like he chose to deny Ramsey’s observation. He had his reasons.
“You can shake your head all you want. It doesn’t change anything and you know what else? Deep down, you love her too. That’s why the fact that she’s seeing this other guy has your whole foundation shook. I’m here to tell you, bruh—life is too short to let a woman who has loved you for ten years walk away and make a life with some other guy. It’s not too late to get a handle on the situation but denial is only going to drive a deeper wedge between you two.”
Romulus leaned back in his chair and chuckled. “You know what, Ram? You were right. Let’s stick to only discussing business at work because you have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Ramsey smirked. “Whatever you say.” He got up and walked away leaving Romulus to his thoughts.
Siderra was in love with him...
He would be a fool not to recognize when a woman was feeling him like that especially Siderra. He knew it, but he didn’t feel like he was in a position to do something about it just yet. As for him being jealous – okay, maybe his brother had a point. He was accustomed to having Derra by his side. Available at his call. There whenever he needed her. Now, her time was being spent – more like wasted – with this guitar dude.
Romulus sighed. He needed to get a handle on his emotions and fast. This rift between him and Siderra had been going on for far too long. They needed to squash it and get back to being friends.
He picked up his cell and dialed her shop number. He didn’t call her cell since he knew she kept it in her purse during business hours. He listened as the phone rang. He wasn’t sure if she’d answer after the way he acted last night.
“Derra’s Designs,” she answered.
“Hey, Derra. Before you yell, snap at me then hang up the phone, I want to apologize for being a jerk last night.”
“Who is this?” Siderra asked.
“Funny,” he replied with a smirk.
“I’m serious because I know this ain’t Romulus St. Claire calling me. He’s been M.I.A. for some time. I was thinking about filing a missing person report.”
“Okay, okay. I’ve been trippin’ lately—doing the very thing I accused you of, but I am sorry, Derra. You forgive me?” He waited for a response and when one never came, he said, “Derra, are you still there?”
“You nearly took my door off the hinges last night, Rom. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so angry.”
“And that’s why I’m apologizing. I lost it. Okay. Do you forgive me?”
“You know I do.”
He smiled. Relieved. “Good, because I’m hoping we can get back on track tonight. Are you available?”
“Available for what?”
“For me. I just want to be with you. No interruptions. Just us. Are you available for me?”
Yes. I’m available.”
“Cool. I’ma head your way right after work. I’ll drop by the store to get the key—”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know the routine.”
“It’s been so long, I figured you would have forgotten by now,” he said.
“It hasn’t been that long.”
“Yes, it has. I can’t remember the last time I had you all to myself,” he said, then bit down on his lip. That’s what he wanted. What he craved. Just to be with her. To spend time with her. Laugh. Talk. Just to be in her company was all the therapy he needed.
“It has been a long time.”
“Yes. Too long,” he said.
“We’ll make up for it tonight.”
“Okay, Rom.”
“Alright,” he said. “Let me get some work done. I’ll see you later.”
“Okay. Bye.”
“Bye.”
He hung up the phone and smiled. It was approaching late afternoon, but the day for him had just gotten a whole lot brighter. His mood was better. He couldn’t wait to spend the evening with Siderra.
Chapter 7
Siderra
I was helping a customer when Romulus showed up at my store. His mere presence gave me hot flashes. He wore a suit better than I’ve ever seen any man rock one. He always looked dashing. His five o’clock shadow made an appearance and did something to make him look sophisticated. His smile, his best accessory could make anyone blush. He wasn’t one of those men you glanced at and looked away from. No, you stared. Took him all in. Even the woman who cleaned out my crochet inventory of potholders was checking him out.
I gave him my apartment key and he went on up. That was around 6:15 p.m. After I locked up the shop for the evening, I went up to find him in the kitchen standing at the stove stirring up some ground beef in a pan. He’s changed out of his suit and into some casual comfortable clothes – a black tank that shows off his thick biceps and meaty shoulders with a pair of gray, cotton shorts that clings to his tight, iron butt. In his new relaxed clothes, I can take in the definition of his chest, those broad shoulders like a linebacker and his incredible physique that adds to his overall, extraordinary good looks.
“And just what do you think you’re doing in my kitchen?” I ask.
He turns around and smiles at me. His smile is so magnificent, I hold on to the corner of the sofa so I don’t fall. Good grief he’s beautiful. I swear I hear a chorus erupt into song.
“Hey,” he says.
“Hey.”
“I saw taco shells on the counter, so I figured I’d give you a head start on your taco Tuesday plans.”
“Is that right?”
“Yes, that’s right,” he says. He turns off the stove and moves the pan off to the side. His arms are open wide when he says, “Come here.”
I walk over to him and allow myself to be absorbed in his embrace. Being in his arms feels like home. Familiarity. For years he has been a part of me. I must have been a fool to think I could let him go now.
I close my eyes, breathe in a deep breath and release it slowly as I surrender my soul to him. I tighten my arms around him and secure our bond. I miss this. Miss these muscles. Miss feeling his heartbeat. Oh, how I love his heartbeat. I love the way I feel in his arms. The way he breathes. The way he smells. I consider it a blessing that for this brief period in time, he’s all mine.
“Derra?” he says, his chin resting on my head.
I hear him say my name but I don’t respond. I’m still captivated by this feeling of being entangled in his embrace. His body and his voice have me under a spell.
“Derra?”
“Yes?”
“Why do you have a death grip on me?”
“Because I missed you so much, Romulus.”
“I missed you, too.”
I still don’t want to let him go, but the more I hold on the more weird things will become so reluctantly I release him and look up into his eyes briefly. Watch him smile again. “I’m going to go take a shower real quick. Since you’re in a cooking mood, can you cut up that onion?”
“Sure. I’ll get the onion, lettuce and tomatoes. You take your time okay?”
“Okay. Thanks, Rom.”
I disappear into my room, find a change of clothes, then step inside of the bathroom to take a shower. I’m actually giddy. I haven’t been this excited in weeks. The last time I felt anything close to being this happy was when Gianna welcomed her baby girl into the world. And now I feel it again. Pure elation.
Amazing.
I don’t feel this way when I’m with Jamar. Being with Romulus isn’t a going-through-the-motions type of deal. It’s real. Incredible. This is proof.
I put on a pink tank top with matching cotton shorts before returning to the kitchen. Romulus is dicing tomatoes. He glances up at me
then quickly looks again, pausing, holding the knife. I’ve never gotten a double-take from him. I try not to read too much into it because after ten years, surely he knows how I look from every angle. There’s nothing new to see here.
“You’re wearing your hair down,” he says, lowering the knife on to the cutting board. He dumps the chopped tomatoes in a small blue bowl.
Okay. Maybe there is something new to see…
“Yeah...figured I’d give the ponytail a rest since my hair has been pulled to my scalp all day long.”
“I thought you only wore your hair down for special occasions—like when you’re with your boyfriend.”
“We’re just dating, Rom. Me and Jamar have not reached boyfriend-girlfriend status.”
“Good.”
I chuckle. “Why is that good?”
“It just is. Have a seat.”
“I gotta make the tacos—”
“I got this,” he says. “I’ve seen you do this a million times. Have a seat. You’ve been on your feet all day. Let me handle it. Besides, I have a lot of making up to do when it comes to you.”
“You ain’t never lied,” I say, pulling out a chair. I watch him work. He brings the lettuce the table. A jar of salsa. Sour cream. Shredded cheese. Chopped onions and tomatoes. After grabbing plates, cups, taco shells (that he warmed up by the way) and the diet tea from the fridge, he sits down across from me and says, “Let’s eat.”
“Let’s.”
He goes for a taco shell, fixes it up how he likes it – loaded with everything – then takes a bite.
I haven’t moved. I’m very much in awe. You know you got it bad when the way a man eats gives you hot flashes and intermittent body spasms.
“Don’t tell me I prepared all of this for you and you ain’t hungry.”
“I am hungry.”
Hungry for you wit’cho handsome self…
I get a taco shell, stuff it with the fixings and take a bite. Meanwhile, Romulus has started on his second taco.
“How was your day at Derra’s Designs?”
“Good. I sold a lot of inventory today. The lady I was ringing up when you came in bought all of my pot holders. She was staring at you like she knew you.”
“I don’t know that old lady.” Romulus takes a bite.
“Right. You just get stares everywhere you go because you’re Rom-u-lus.”
“That about sums it up,” he says confidently.
“So modest...” I tease.
“I’ve been living it my whole life—I know what’s up.”
I observe as he eats more, then gulps tea. “Anyway, how was your day at the office?”
“Good, especially after I talked to you.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah. Seriously. You single-handedly made my day.”
I smile. I feel his bare foot touch mine beneath the table. I glance up at him to see if it’s intentional, but he gives me no indication that he’s purposely playing footsie with me. He’s sipping tea.
Romulus sets his cup on the table. Clears his throat. “Can I ask you, something Derra?”
“Sure. Just try not to let it be about Jamar.”
“It’s not about Jamar. It’s about us. Me and you.”
I stare into his eyes for a moment feeling trapped. Does he know how I feel about him, or is this conversation a speech about how long we’ve been friends and we should do everything in our power to keep our friendship intact?
“What about me and you?” I ask. I feel his big ‘ol size fourteen feet touch mine again.
“We’ve been friends for far too long to be allowing silly disputes to destroy us.”
“You’re right.”
“So how do we prevent this going forward?”
“Rom, this friendship isn’t a business. We’re people. Things happen. I’m sure you’re going to piss me off again at some point.”
He exhales a slow breath. “Agreed, but our friendship should be strong enough to survive a disagreement.”
“It is, but like I said…things happen like you getting jealous of the fact that I went on a date.”
He quirks up his lips in the corner. “You know I don’t have a jealous bone in my body, girl.”
“That’s what you want the world to believe, but I know better.”
He holds my vision for a moment then grimaces slightly before making another taco.
I want to ask him why he was staring at me so hard, but I’m afraid of ruffling feathers so early in the mending stages of our most recent spat so I go off topic to keep the flow lighthearted and safe. “I need to go by Gianna’s to see the baby. Suddenly I feel like I’m having baby fever.”
Romulus smiles. “She’s a beautiful little girl. I was over there the other day feeding her.”
I lift a brow. “You were?”
“Yeah.”
“You actually fed her?”
“I did,” he says with a chuckle. “Why do you find that so hard to believe?”
“I don’t know…maybe because you seem like you don’t have the patience for that sort of thing.”
“Well, you’ll be blown away to know that I also burped her, too.”
“Well, I’ll be,” I say, placing a hand over my heart.
He laughs.
“Do you want kids, Romulus?”
He shrugs. “Maybe.”
Maybe...
His indecisiveness annoys me. The only thing he’s sure about is his ability to do his job and the fact that his family will always be there for him and I’m included in that. His family.
“I want kids and I don’t want to wait until I’m forty to have one. I need to get the ball rolling like right now.”
“Be careful what you wish for.”
“I know what I’m wishing for, just like I know what I want. Just because you waste your time chasing chicks doesn’t mean I’ll waste mine chasing—”
You.
“Chasing what?” he asks, sitting up tall. Alert.
“Nothing.”
“And I haven’t been chasing any women. In fact, I haven’t been on a date in months.”
“Why’s that?”
He shifts in his seat. Shrugs. “Not really feeling it anymore.”
I shake my head at his answer. He offers no details – just a vague shell of an answer that only leaves room for me to come to my own conclusion.
I stand to clear the table. He helps me, then we take the discussion to the sofa.
I turn on the TV but we don’t pay it any attention. We’re still in mending mode. Relationship repairing. I slide closer to him because I want to be close. I take his large hand into mine feeling its heaviness and say, “You really need to start opening up more, Rom.”
“Don’t start with that,” he says, trying to take his hand away from me but I hold it tighter. I know he can move it if he really wants to but he doesn’t. He lets me win.
I trace his long fingers and run my fingertips across the veins at the back of his hand. “I know you don’t like talking about feelings but jeez. I asked you why you haven’t been dating and all you say to that is you ain’t feeling it.”
“I’m not.”
“Tell me why.” I look at his face and see a series of expressions. One looks troubling. Another looks like he’s hiding something. Then a phony smile comes along – something he uses to mask his true feelings. So typical.
“Rom?”
“Keep on pressuring me with all these questions and see what happens to you, girl.”
I can’t help but laugh at his threat. He knows how to make me laugh and change the subject at the same time apparently. However, I press on undeterred. “Please just tell me. It’s me. Derra. What? Are you shy now?”
“I know you didn’t fix your lips to ask me if I’m shy.”
“Then talk to me. Why are you being so freaking difficult?”
“Oh, you want difficult?”
He’s trying to make light of this. I’m being serious. “Rom—”
&
nbsp; “I’ll give you difficult,” he says. He snatches his hand away from mine, grabs me and lays me out on the sofa, then blankets me with his towering body of muscles, squishing me between his body and the sofa cushions. My arms are stretched above my head. He has me locked at the wrist using only one hand as a cuff. “Look at you now.”
“Rom, let me go,” I say, steadily squirming and laughing at the same time. I try to free myself but his solid-as-a-rock body has me pinned.
“Now, what were you saying?” he asks.
“I—I can’t talk with—with you—squi—squishing me.”
He stops smiling abruptly, looks a little more serious when he says, “I’ve been doing some serious thinking lately, Derra.”
“About what?” I ask, staring up into his eyes.
He releases my arms and rests on his elbows to take some of his weight off of me. “You asked me why I stopped dating. I’m explaining it to you.”
“Okay. Continue,” I tell him, trying not to react with him being on top of me this way when internally, I’m soaking it all in. Feeling my pulse race.
“I’ve been thinking about where I’m headed and I realized I wasn’t going anywhere. I understand how important my family is to me and I think that’s what I want. A family. Children. Heck maybe even a dog or two. I’m beginning to sound all sentimental like Ramsey but when it’s all said and done all you have is family. That’s why I’ve been tripping about you dating. I get what you were trying to say about being with someone and getting to know that person’s family. I get it, Derra, but even still that doesn’t mean I’m ready to let you go.”
I couldn’t speak. His words touched me deeply. He’s never like this. He’s usually elusive with his feelings but this time he’s allowing me to peer into his soul.
“Rom, you don’t have to let me go.”
“I don’t plan to,” he whispers. “And I don’t care who you’re with. I loved you first,” he says, glancing at my lips. “And I’ll always love you. No matter what.”
I feel his weight start to come down on me again. My body shivers. Lips quiver.
He glances at my mouth. His nose grazes mine. I feel the roughness of his mustache. We share the same air. Our faces touch. His full weight restricts me. I give in to it. Let it happen. I place my hands on his back and welcome this foreign feeling.