Stealing the Sun, page 5
“What’s there not to know? You’ll go, and it’ll be fine.”
The next few hours are a blur. My clothes are changed, and we’re ushered out of the apartment in a frenzy. I keep sneaking peaks at not-Tyree, but every attempt is met with those dark eyes. The speakers announce the next gate boarding, and I can’t get my nerves under control. As we travel from gate to gate to our destination, my nerves remain in a frenzy. They stay in a frenzy as we ride to our hotel.
We got a great deal on an all-inclusive resort, and as the click of the door sounds in the room, I swallow hard.
“Are you hungry? We’ve been traveling all day.” His voice startles me even though it’s only us in the room.
“A sandwich, I guess.”
He nods while taking a seat on the bed and calling downstairs. As he’s ordering and asking questions about the food, he says something that gives me pause. “No orange juice. She doesn’t like oranges. Yes, apple juice is fine.” He completes the order and hangs up, but I’m still looking at him.
“You know I don’t like oranges?”
“Of course, I do.” His tone is so matter-of-fact and direct that I’m rooted in place.
I narrow my eyes, and he tilts his head, still sitting on the bed. “Come here, Issa,” he says, the accent really showing up in the ‘a’ sound of my name.
“You keep calling me that.”
“I always call you that,” he says, motioning for me to come to him. My feet are moving before I can stop them, and I’m standing in front of him. He lifts his left hand to cup my cheek and caress my jaw with his thumb. “Can I get you anything? I can run you a bath before the food gets here.” The urge to sink into his touch lures me closer, but I stand straighter.
I clear my throat and shake my head. “I think I’ll just take a quick shower.”
He pulls my hands down and aligns our fingers. He never says a word, just presses our hands from palms to fingertips. His are almost twice the size of mine. The warmth of his skin sinks into me, and I’m transfixed. After a few minutes, he pauses his motion and smiles.
“You go on and take a shower, and I’ll let everyone know we made it safe.” I nod and move to get my pajamas and go to the bathroom.
As I stare at my reflection, I pinch my arm, but nothing changes. The hotel’s logo is displayed perfectly with palm trees in the backdrop adorning the little soap and shampoo bottles next to the sink.
This is wild.
I remove my clothes and step under the water. I flip the day over and over in my head, still trying to make sense of what is happening. I finish in the shower and get changed into my favorite pajamas, a white tank top with matching shorts.
Cold air hits my skin once the door is opened, and a billow of steam escapes from my back. The shower did very little to clear my mind. I turn the corner, and sitting in the same position I left him in is not-Tyree. God, I don’t know what to call him. Everyone else calls him Tyree, and he answers to that name, but it doesn’t feel right.
A tray is pulled to the side table, a silver cloche covering our food.
“You didn’t have to wait for me.”
He stands and pulls me forward when I’m within arm’s reach.
“I didn’t mind. Here, have a seat.”
He guides me to a chair before sitting across from me. He lifts the cloche in a dramatic show, and I laugh for the first time today. “There’s my girl. I missed your smile.”
As his words sink in, my smile drops, and I focus on my fingers in my lap. Nothing I do seems to upset him, though, because he adjusts our plates and smiles at me like it’s the most natural thing in the world. My sandwich is not just a normal sandwich. It’s shredded pork with a Caribbean blend of spices, vegetables, and plantains as the bread. I never knew a sandwich could be so good. He nods when he catches my eyes, and I swallow the bite as I chew slower.
“Issa, baby. How are you feeling? Be honest. Every time I look at you, your eyes are darting in the other direction. You’re constantly squeezing your hands together, which you only do when you’re nervous.”
If it were possible, I’d have worn-out spots between my thumb and index finger with the way I press and squeeze the area during any type of stress. As his words sink in, I stop moving my hands, finding I’m in the exact position he described. His eyes scan me, and he never seems to miss a beat, catching every blink and twist I make.
I swallow before I say, “I’m just—wrapping my mind around some things.”
He nods while placing the cloche over his half-eaten sandwich and stands.
“Perfectly understandable.”
He pulls me from my seat and guides me to the bed.
“The day has been long, and while I could watch you simply exist for an infinite amount of time, I think you should rest.” His voice is smooth but thick on certain syllables with that accent. “Is it okay if I lay with you?”
He’s looking down at me, and I can’t garner the will to say no, so I nod wordlessly as he smiles.
He tugs back the blankets and gets in first. There’s an open space in front of him, and he holds out his arms. I hesitate for a second but soon take a seat and lie down. He pulls the blanket over us, and I’m cocooned in his warmth.
“God, I’ve been waiting for this. How do you feel so good? We fit so perfectly, Issa.” His voice is husky in my ears, and I melt into his chest. I don’t verbalize it, but his words ring true. We do fit perfectly. He rubs my arms, and a shiver shoots down my spine.
He kisses my neck, and it’s so sweet I could cry. He hums in satisfaction, and I sink deeper into the mattress. One hand glides down my hip, and my pulse rockets higher before I swallow hard. There’s another kiss on my neck, and my insides ooze. I’m engulfed in a spicy musk that, if I smelt at any other time, would garner questions about the maker.
But I don’t ask what he’s wearing or why it’s different from his usual fragrance. I don’t ask why his thumb has a callus I’ve never felt sliding over my hip. And I don’t ask why his lips soothe my soul. Something deep and unexplainable unfurls in my core, and I sigh.
For what feels like the first time, I relax and stop questioning the moment.
“Sweet dreams, Issa,” he whispers in my ear, and tears spring into my eyes. I feel his words as though they’ve been written in my DNA.
Another peck to the shoulder, and he releases a breath full of contentment and something I can’t put my finger on.
What the hell?
CHAPTER 9
Clarissa
Light from the window shines on my face. The warmth is not yet glaring but persistent on my skin. I blink and groan as I roll over. The events of yesterday come back, and I jolt upright and look around.
My bedroom is quiet and looks the same as I remember it.
My bedroom?
I push the covers back and move to stand. The other side of the bed is empty, but the sounds of water running from the bathroom are persistent. I pick up my phone, and the date lights across the screen before it goes black—January 18.
January?
I move my focus to the bathroom as what sounds like Tyree singing in the shower drifts through the door, and I let out a breath.
I dial Marissa’s number and put the phone to my ear.
“Hello.”
“Marissa, what’s today’s date?”
A faint yawn drifts over the line.
“What? Lis, it’s five in the morning.”
I was so busy looking at the date I didn’t bother to check the time. Rissa is a true creative and normally is a natural clock type, meaning whenever she wakes up, she starts her day. It could be nine or twelve. She doesn’t tie herself to a set schedule.
“Sorry, I didn’t realize how early it was, but I’m currently in the middle of a crisis,” I say, allowing the panic to filter into my voice.
“What? What’s the matter?” There’s a shuffling of blankets on her end and a pause before she’s back.
“Did Tyree do something? I really wasn’t prepared to kill somebody today,” she huffs, and I laugh.
“This isn’t funny. If I tell you what just happened, you won’t believe it.”
“Tell me already.”
“First, what is today’s date?”
“It’s January—” She pauses, and her voice gets further away from the speaker. “18. January 18. Why?”
Falling back on the bed, I stare at the ceiling as I’m trying to wrap my head around what happened. The faint sounds of Tyree in the shower filter through, but not fully into my psyche.
Rissa’s voice breaks through my thoughts. “Lis. Lis, are you okay?”
“I—I’m about to tell you something.” I go into the story of how I woke up on July 18, my wedding day. How she and my family were there helping me get ready, and finally, how I walked down the aisle to a groom who was not Tyree.
“Girl, what did you eat last night?” She laughs, and I run my hands over my face.
“I swear it really happened. Like I feel how I felt. The worry. The confusion…his lips.” I whisper that last part to myself.
“Lis, calm down. It sounds like you just had a nightmare.”
I close my eyes, and the image of those dark eyes comes to me. A nightmare? As I mull over her words, the weight of them sits on my chest. A nightmare. It was so vivid, and my gut still churns at the events.
“A nightmare?” I ask.
“A nightmare. You said even in the dream, the doctor attributed it to stress. Probably just your body signaling for you to slow down and delegate.”
The water in the shower turns off, and I clutch the phone tighter.
“Sorry for waking you, Rissa. You’re right. I think I woke up confused. It still feels so real.”
“Hey, you’re the only person I would answer for this early. Send me a list of tasks you need, and I’ll have my assistant take care of it. You have been under a lot of stress trying to manage everything on your own.”
“Okay, I’ll do that. Thank you, Rissa. I love you.”
“Love you too. Now I’m going back to bed,” she says, and a click sounds in my ear. I pull back the phone, and my screen is dark. I smile to myself and move my attention to the bathroom door. A second later, Tyree is walking through, wearing low-slung sweats and no shirt as he hums.
“Clarissa, you’re up early. Is your head feeling better?”
“My head?”
“You were getting a migraine last night, remember? You went to sleep early when Tam and August left.” He walks over and places his hand on my forehead. He turns on the lamp, and his face is illuminated. His amber-brown eyes reflect the light, and I let out a breath.
“You don’t feel warm.”
I lean back and smile. “I—had the weirdest nightmare. I don’t even know how to explain it.”
“What?”
“It was our wedding day, and things went so wrong. It got canceled, and—” I pause my words as he stares intently at me. “Just didn’t go as planned,” I trail off.
“It’s probably the stress of everything. We can still go to the courthouse.”
I close my eyes and press my hands to my head.
“It’s fine. I’m fine. Rissa is going to help me delegate some of the smaller tasks, so it won’t all fall on me.”
He pulls me into his chest and kisses my temple. “That’s a great idea.”
His cologne drifts under my nose, and I frown. I can actually still smell the cologne from my dream. How is that possible? My dreams typically consist of mundane tasks like helping a friend move, or me back in high school, taking a test I didn’t study for. I release a breath and shake my head.
“You sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah, it’s just the nightmare.”
He nods and stands up straight.
“The fellas and I are meeting after work for a few drinks. Tyson should be flying in this afternoon and is meeting us at The Spot. You want to come?”
I’m already shaking my head. “No, you go hang out. I’ll probably catch up on sleep or something. Mom is taking me to lunch, and we’re going by a floral shop later.”
“Okay, don’t do too much.”
He kisses me a final time and works on getting dressed for work. I’m surprised he’s up so early. It looks like he’s really focused on being on time today. Once he’s out the door, I lay back in bed. As more time passes, I realize how ridiculous the dream was. The feelings still feel so real, though. I get up and go about getting ready for work.
I pull up to the small bistro across from the flower shop. My mom offered to treat me to lunch, and that was okay with me. Luckily, work has been slow, so taking a little bit of a longer lunch won’t be an issue. The street is bustling with people, and cars honk as I slip into the shop.
In the corner, looking at tulips, is my mom. Her hair is cropped and tapered along the back and sides with gray and silver sprinkled throughout. She’s not very tall, standing at average height. I get my height from my dad, so I’ve been towering over her since I was fourteen. “Mom,” I say, giving her a side hug.
“Oh, Clarissa! You startled me.”
“Sorry. I love your hair. I see you’re letting the gray come in.”
“Yeah, it got to be too much trying to fight my roots. I’m letting it do what it wants to do.” She shrugs and moves to the back of the shop.
The place is mostly empty, aside from a woman in an apron with the shop’s logo off to the side. She’s moving dirt in large packages from one corner to the other. The sweetness of light rose wafts under my nose. The shop is so fragrant, but not in an overpowering way. The subtle notes of something green in combination with sweet earth make me smile.
“So, where are you on the list? Do you know what arrangements you want?”
We stop at a table full of perfect blooming arrangements. “Yep, I already ordered everything.”
“Girl, why are we meeting here if you already picked the flowers?”
I shrug and make a slight grimace. “Because it’s cute. Flower shops don’t get enough foot traffic,” I say, running my fingers over the soft petals of a flower I’ve never seen before. “I’m looking at computers for most of the day, and sometimes I want to stare at something beautiful. Plus, I was going to buy you an arrangement.”
“Lead with that next time.” My mom laughs as we continue to walk. She fills me in on all things around my dad’s retirement. He’s worked in finance for the last fifty years and is finally calling it quits.
“So what are y’all planning for the retirement?”
“I’m thinking a trip. We always talked about going to Paris, and there’s no time like the present.”
“Wow, that sounds nice. Rissa was there last year, I think, on one of her quarterly trips. I think she liked it. I’ll ask where she went. I think she had a better experience with the local spots versus the tourist hot spots.”
“Oh, please do. I’m trying to iron out all the details, but any help I can get would be great.”
“I got you, Mom,” I say with a wink. We spend the next twenty minutes looking over the most beautiful arrangements until she finds the one she wants. I pay, and we walk across the street for lunch. The bistro is not that busy. It looks like we missed the lunch rush since it’s well after one o’clock.
“Hey, Mom, have you ever had a dream that was so vivid you thought it was real?” I ask while stirring my soup.
“Hmm, yeah, I guess. Actually, your grandmother did that.”
“Really?”
“Yep, but her dreams would come true. She once dreamt that Uncle Clarence was going to fall off the roof and break his foot in six places.”
“Did he?”
“Yep, it took a few months, but he eventually fell. In her dream, he’d been drinking and decided that was a good time to check the satellite dish. He was off work for months,” she says, shaking her head as though she’s back in that memory. “What brought that question?”
“No reason.”
She tilts her head and gives me a look.
“I had sort of a nightmare last night, I guess. It felt real, but it was just a dream.”
“What happened?”
“The wedding was ruined. Everything that could go wrong did.”
“Oh no, it’s probably the stress of planning. I’ve been telling you for weeks to delegate. Tyree’s ass needs to be helping more, too. You don’t even have a wedding planner.” Mom huffs and takes a sip of her lemonade.
My mom thought it was a terrible idea for me to plan a wedding with seventy-five guests and no official wedding planner. I figured I could handle it since I know exactly what I want.
“You know Tyree’s schedule is unpredictable. He can’t leave work to handle these appointments like I can, but I have Rissa helping me. She’s letting me use her assistant, which will be nice.”
“Oh, that is nice. Well, if you need me to help, I can.”
“No, I think I’m okay.”
We finish our lunch, and I confirm all the best places to tour in Paris for my parents’ trip. After we say goodbye, I make my way back to the office.
CHAPTER 10
Tyree
“Rocky, can you bring me my messages, please?” I say, pressing the intercom on my office phone. I’m one of two regional managers at this location, with our respective corner offices.
“Yes, sir,” Rocky, my assistant, says. A few minutes later, he hands over my messages from the morning. He started off as an intern, but when my assistant at the time quit to pursue her dream of taking an RV cross-country with her family, he applied for the position, and the rest is history.
That was almost a year ago, and things have gone smoothly. I jump on my computer to pull up my schedule and make sure I’m good to leave a little early and meet the guys tonight. It’s a big group of us, and I’m pretty sure Tam is tagging along with August, which is why I wanted Clarissa to come. I know she’s been swamped with planning, so her taking time for herself makes sense, but I wish she wanted to come along.
