Heels of Love (G Street Chronicles Presents From Love to Loathe Series) (25 page)

“Jyme, I love you.”

“Say it again,” he asked.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too, Cricket.”

“I’ll see you when you get home,” I told him.

“Um, that sounds so good.”

I got into the tank and sweated bullets every time I had to turn a corner. It took me almost ten minutes to park in a parking space in the parking lot of the restaurant. I met Chelle at Maxwell’s for lunch and I had a strong feeling this was not going to be a good visit. She was waiting on me at a table in the corner. I took in a deep breath and sat down across from her. There was lemon water waiting for me at the table already, and she said she ordered us an appetizer.

“So, what the fuck did you do to him?”

I looked up from my water to meet her eyes.

“We met for coffee this morning, and he was torn up; he went on and on and on about how you flipped out on him this morning. He said you talked to him like some whore, and then you threatened to leave him. He was a complete and utter mess.

“What did you tell him?”

“All I said was you had a real fucked-up childhood, and you don’t like to talk about it.”

“What did he say?”

“Nothing, he just listened to every word that came out of my mouth,” she explained. “Look Cricket, I know you’re scared, and I know it’s hard for you to trust anyone, but I think he’s really in love with you. You should just come clean with him. I don’t think he’ll care about that stuff,”

“You know, I thought I at least had till March before all this stuff started to happen. I didn’t even make it six months.”

“Cricket, please don’t do this to him. It will kill him.”

“What do you expect me to do then, huh? Tell him the truth so he can look at me in
that
way? Tell him all about my family roots?” I asked.

“It’s not just you that will hurt. Ayashe and I will be the ones sitting back watching him fall apart, and then we have to hear the voices of his best friends. Did you think about that?”

“I never asked for you to—”

“OH, I KNOW YOU DIDN’T. You never ask for anything. Not one damn thing.”

The tears started, and I knew I had no control over them now.

“Honey, I know you love him. I can see it in your eyes when you look at him. That night in the bar on your birthday, when he had you all hemmed up in his arms. I could tell you were at peace, and he is your peace.”

I wiped at my face, and the waiter brought me more cloth napkins without saying a word. “I don’t know how to do this with him, he has so much baggage and his life is …”

She interrupted. “Cricket, you carry all of your baggage in your heart and mind; you have to let some of that baggage go. He’s got strong arms. Let him carry some of that for you.”

We sat there for another hour or so, and Chelle tried her best to convince me to come clean with Jyme, but I just couldn’t see how. There were major things in my past that he should never know about.

I made it back to the safe house a little after 2:00. The one good thing about this monster tank of a car was that it held fifty-seven household item bags like a champion. I felt so small driving it, and that does not happen often. I unpacked everything from the bacon and eggs for the fridge to the Irish Spring body wash for Jyme to feminine products for me. I went to work for another thirty minutes, and then there was a massive ding-dong sound vibrating through the house. I yanked all the bedding off the bed and headed for the door. The washer and dryer came in first just as I had requested. As soon as the washer and dryer were set, I went to work on it. I set all of the furniture and kitchen appliances the same way I saw it online. I went to IKEA’s website on my phone and had the workers put everything exactly like the pictures on the site.

Two hours later, this house looked like it belonged in
Better Homes and Gardens
. Jyme said he would be here by six, and I needed to start dinner. I ran upstairs and hopped in the shower. I put my morning fantasy outfit back on as he had requested through a text message earlier. But I wore a pair of his socks; I would peel them off when he got there.

I made spaghetti with fried catfish; I am not a baker, so I got a Mrs. Smith’s cobbler. I was mixing the salad when I heard the front door open. I pulled my socks off and threw them in one of the laundry baskets.

“Cricket?” Jyme called from the foyer. I walked to the stairwell, and there he stood with a massive flower arrangement.

“Do we have a dining room table?”

“Yes, we do.”

He walked towards me and gave me a quick peck on the cheek. Then, he went down into the dining room. He set the flowers on the table, and they looked great there. He turned around and pulled me up against him.

“You smell good. What you cooking?” He smiled wide.

“Dinner will be ready in about twenty minutes,” I kissed both sides of his neck and tugged at his ear with my teeth.

“I’m going to take a shower,” he croaked out.

“Alright,” I said and turned to walk back to the kitchen. He grabbed my arm.

“Come with me?”

“I just got out, and I need to finish dinner.”

“What are you cooking?”

“Spaghetti, fried catfish, and cobbler.”

“Is the spaghetti done?” he asked in my ear now.

“Yes.”

“The catfish?” he asked licking my ear.

“No, I haven’t put them in the grease yet.”

“And the cobbler?” His tongue was in my ear now.

“Yes,” I growled.

“Shower.”

I took off for the stairs. I looked behind me, and Jyme was hopping on one leg, pulling his shoes off. I laughed at him and then stopped abruptly.

Jyme gave me this look, and I knew he was about to fuck the shit out of me. I was undressed and in the shower when he got there. “Don’t get my hair wet,” I warned while pulling it all up in a ponytail.

He nodded, pressed me against the back wall, and put the water on blast. I came twice, and he came hard once; we were exhausted. This wild kingdom sex was really tiring me out.

We were both starving, and Jyme had me give him a piece of fried catfish straight out the grease onto his plate. He ate absolutely everything again and wanted second helpings.

“I’ve never had sweet tea before,” he told me.

“It’s a southern thing.”

“And catfish with spaghetti. I’ve never had that, but it’s so damn good.”

“Another southern thing. Next time, I’ll make you collards with fried catfish and corn bread.”

“Tomorrow?”

“I guess so, if you want catfish again,” I laughed.

“Yes, please.”

“Alright.”

We sat there in silence, and Jyme examined the kitchen from his seat.

“Do you like it?” I asked.

“Do you like it?”

“Yes,” I whispered.

“Then I love it.”

I smiled at him as his cell phone rang. He silenced it at once and set it back down on the table.

“Aren’t you going to get that?”

“We’re having dinner.”

“I met Michelle for lunch today at Maxwell’s.”

Jyme wiped his mouth with the brand-new cloth napkins. I held my hand up to stop him.

“It’s alright; I know why you did it. I just had a horrible childhood. I want to talk to you about it, but I am not ready right now. And I know that’s not fair to you, but I can’t give you more than that right now. I am letting you in more than you will ever know. All of this is terrifying me, and I am hanging on the edge, trying hard not to fall off. I need you to not push me and be patient with me on this.”

Jyme placed his hand over mine, and I gave him a smile.

“I’m a patient man; I just needed something to go off of. I’m sorry I went to her, but you were all ready to leave me this morning, and I was not sure if you were going to be here when I got home.”

“I’m here.”

“And I see that.”

“I spent $27,000 today. All of the receipts are in the top drawer in your office,” I told him.

“Did you get everything we need?”

“Do you want a TV, desk computer, stereo, or Blu-ray player?” I asked.

“We might need that stuff at some point.”

“Well, I can call Best Buy tomorrow and see if they can deliver and install.”

“Can you be here tomorrow during the day? I’ve somewhere I have to be,” he asked.

“Sure, I can work from home.”

“Home,” he crooned.

“Yes. Our home.”

“You made this house a home.”

“And in less than twenty four hours.”

“Spend however much you need to make us comfortable here.”

“Is there anything you want?” I asked.

He smiled at me with a raised eyebrow.

“Besides me lying flat on my back?”

“I don’t know, I’m kind of partial to the shower now.”

I raised my eyebrows then; the shower was very good, and we got clean right away.

“I’m planning on having sex with you in every single room in this house,” he said.

“Well, alright then.”

I woke the next morning to Jyme’s kisses all over my bare back. “Oh, that’s nice.” I stirred.

“Cricket, what’s this?”

“What?” I asked sleepily.

“It’s a scar; it kind of looks like a bullet wound.”

I rolled over on my back at once, and I pulled him into me and kissed the side of his neck. Jyme laid his head on the two soft mountains. Then, he sat up slowly, staring at my bare stomach. “Here’s the entry wound and back there’s the exit.”

I lay there not moving and hardly breathing.

“Cricket, please.”

“It’s just a cigar scar,” I assured him.

“Cricket, in the front and the back?”

“I had a mean grandfather,” I told him. I got up and went straight to the shower. He joined me a few minutes later. “Jyme I’m really not in the mood right now.”

He pulled me into him and took a couple of deep breaths. “I can’t do this,” he whispered.

“You want me to leave?”

“God dammit, Cricket. NO!” He found the almost invisible scar on my back with his fingers. “I will protect you,” he assured me while rubbing his wet fingers over the bullet wound. I cried in his arms, and he just let me without saying a word. I made waffles in the waffle maker with eggs and bacon for breakfast that morning. Jyme had two waffles and was now working on his fourth piece of bacon. His phone rung, but he ignored it again. I watched him, and he looked frustrated.

“What about my stuff at the condo?” I asked him.

“What about it?”

“I need my things.”

“What do you need there that you don’t have here?”

“Jyme, it’s my stuff.”

“Is there anything there that isn’t replaceable?”

Why was he acting like this with me? I needed my shit. It was mine. I worked long and hard for everything I had. I stood and started clearing the table; I dumped all the extra food down the garbage disposal.

Jyme stood beside me, handing me his empty plate.

“Look I’ll get everything of yours moved out today, but I don’t want you going back there by yourself.”

What did he think I was going to live here forever? And I still had to get a car.

“I still need to find a place of my own and a car. I don’t mind spending ninety percent of my time here, but I really need my own place, Jyme.”

“Why?”

“Just because, and I am not going to get in some big dropkick fight about it.”

“Where do you want to live?”

“I was thinking about trying to get a condo in the same building,”

“WHAT?”

“Jyme that place is the safest. No one can get in. Yes, granted, someone sent me an unwanted package, but no one can get in. It’s well secured, and you know it.”

“I don’t get a say in any of this?”

“A say in what?”

“Cricket, I bought this house for us—me and you and you and me.”

“Jyme, I’ve no security. If we breakup, I’m stuck.”

“Who’s breaking up?”

“You know what I mean.”

“If anything happens, you can just keep the house, and I’ll move back to the reservation” he assured me.

“JYME!”

“That’s it. Problem solved,” he said, walking out of the kitchen.

“Jyme, we are not done talking about this.” I screamed at him, following him to the front door. Jyme unlocked and opened it with me right on his heels.

The four figures at the door scared the shit out of both of us. Four women were standing there. One had a basket, another had a cake, another had some kind of casserole, and then the other had a bottle of wine with four goblets.

“Hi,” they said in unison.

“Good morning, ladies,” Jyme greeted them and turned around to give me a quick peck on the lips. He stepped around them and looked as though he was about to burst with laughter.