Chapter Seven
Chanel
“I knew your fast ass wouldn’t be able to stay away from him for too long,” Gabby laughed into the phone. I laughed with her as I told my tale of what had gone down Friday night.
The evening had ended very differently than I’d expected. When I woke up Saturday morning, it was to a smiling Xavier, and somehow we’d ended up in his bedroom instead of the entertainment room where we’d fallen asleep. I still had on the dress I’d worn to the gala, but Xavier had changed into a pair of boxer briefs. It took everything in me not to jump him as he smirked at me with that damn dimple playing at his cheek.
He insisted on making breakfast after I turned down his offer to go out to one of his restaurants. It was nothing fancy, a couple of spinach, mushroom and goat cheese omelets with some toast and fruit, but I felt cared for the way he served me, sitting at the counter in his huge kitchen. He’d reassured me that we wouldn’t be interrupted by his mother again. He said she usually went to her gym for spin class on Saturday mornings, and her popping into the main house wasn’t a regular occurrence. I side-eyed him at that, after what’d happened the previous night. I didn’t need to be sitting in the kitchen wearing the same clothes I’d had on the previous night while his mother walked in on us again.
But he’d been right. Breakfast had gone smoothly, and I started to feel as if spending the whole weekend with him wouldn’t have been a bad idea.
That’s when I knew it was time to get the hell out of there.
After breakfast, I insisted Xavier take me home. Luckily, he had work to tend to later that afternoon, and didn’t insist on me staying.
“So, Saturday was the last time you heard from him?” she asked.
“Yup. He tried yet again at asking me on a date, which I declined.” I frowned when I heard Gabby sucking her teeth on the other end. “Anyway,” I continued. “He had some meetings he needed to attend.”
“Working on a Saturday? Hm, sounds like a workaholic, just like you,” she commented.
“I’m not a damn workaholic,” I argued.
“Chh, try that lie with someone who doesn’t know you.”
“You’re one to talk. Which one of us sees clients up until damn near ten o’clock at night and works all weekend?”
She giggled a bit. “I never said I wasn’t a workaholic,” she admitted. “It’s the price we pay for loving what we do.”
“Speaking of which…”
“Don’t start,” she countered before I could even get my sentence out.
“I haven’t even said anything yet.”
“But I know you, and you’re about to ask about my plans to open the spa, and if I’ve looked at the spaces for rent you’ve sent me. I haven’t had time, so stop asking.”
I was just about to comment on her hesitance at getting her dream off the ground when there was a knock on my door. I looked up to see Liza with a flower delivery man standing behind her with a beautiful bouquet of white flowers.
“C-come in,” I stuttered.
“Chanel, these just came for you,” Liza explained.
“Thank you.”
The delivery man walked up to my desk and placed the bouquet in front of me. Up close, I could see the flowers were a mix of white Asiatic lilies, white roses, and blue mini carnations held together by a dark blue glass vase. It was large and beautiful.
“Card’s right here,” the delivery man pointed out.
“Thank you. Wait,” I called as Liza turned to leave. “Let me grab my wallet.”
“No, thank you, Miss. The tip has already been taken care of,” he grinned before leaving.
“Hello? Chanel?” Gabby called through the phone line.
“I just got a bouquet of flowers delivered.” It wasn’t uncommon to have flowers delivered. Plenty of clients had sent me bouquets once their divorces were settled. But, looking at this beautiful bouquet in front of me, I suspected this wasn’t from a client.
“Did you read the card?”
I spotted the card that was held in place by a little plastic holder in the center. Plucking it out, I pulled it from the envelope.
Thank you for a wonderful Friday evening and Saturday morning. Hope these flowers find you well. FYI—I’m not counting Friday as our second date. You still owe me one.
- X
“Ohhhh, girl. You’re in trouble,” Gabby rasped in a sing-song voice.
I bit my lower lip to keep the mile-wide grin off my face. “It was just a bouquet,” I countered.
“Mm-hmm, okay. You gonna call to thank him?”
“I-I don’t have his number.” I felt discouraged. I’d never asked for his number, and he’d never asked for mine. I could call Jason and ask him for it, but that’d arouse too much suspicion, and I didn’t need my brother in my business.
“I’m betting that man of yours will find a way to pop up sooner or later.”
“He’s not my man.”
Gabby simply laughed. “Okay, girl. I gotta go. Talk to you later,” she said, laughter still in her voice as she hung up.
I frowned as I glared at the phone. One little lunch and a Friday evening followed by a bouquet delivery was far from enough to call someone my man. We hadn’t even been on a proper date! And we wouldn’t, because I didn’t date. Friday night had just been two single and grown adults hanging out. Sometimes one thing led to another. No big deal.
I did my best to focus back on work. I had some meetings and a very important deposition I needed to get to that afternoon. I didn’t have time to get all googly-eyed because a man had sent me flowers. Yet, even as I told myself that, I could hear my inner voice laughing at me, telling me this thing with Xavier wasn’t about to go away anytime soon.
****
Did you like the flowers?
I read the text message as I walked back to my office after escorting one of my clients out after a meeting. The message had come in about thirty minutes ago, but because I’d been in a meeting, I was just getting to look at my phone. I squinted when I saw the contact was listed under “X.”
Xavier? I responded.
Who else?
How did you get your number in my phone? I waited for his response as I paced back and forth in my office. I’d been sitting for too long and needed to move my legs as I thought about how I was going to handle this case.
I plugged my number in while you slept Friday night. Or was it Saturday morning? Either/or. You know, you should have a lock on your phone.
Is that right? I questioned.
Hell yeah, any random ass dude could pick up your phone and put their number in while you’re sleeping at his house.
Well, I don’t make it a habit of sleeping at ‘random ass dude’s’ houses.
Oh, so just mine? Good to know.
I could picture the cocky smirk he wore on his face as he typed that last text message.
You never answered my question.
I paused, wondering what the question was. Oh! The flowers.
Yes, they were beautiful. Thank you.
Glad you liked them. I meant what I said on the card too.
What was that?
Friday wasn’t our second date.
Of course not, because we never had a FIRST date.
Lol. You’re stubborn as hell. Anyway, I’d like to take you on our SECOND date when I get back.
Get back?
I have another business trip. I leave late tonight, and I’ll be gone for about two weeks.
My heart plummeted hearing he was going to be away for so long. He’d just gotten back. Of course, I didn’t share my actual feelings with him. Maybe two weeks without seeing or hearing from him would allow me to get out from underneath the feelings I seemed to be developing. I didn’t like the way I was feeling for him at all. It’d been years since I’d had any real feelings for a man, and I was not looking to indulge anytime soon.
Have a safe and productive trip.
I intentionally left out any response about going out with him.
I’ll give you a call in a couple of days.
Thanks again for the flowers.
His response to that was a winking eye emoji, and for some reason that sent a little shiver down my spine. I placed my phone on my desk and forced myself to refocus on work. I had a lot to do, and it looked like I wouldn’t be leaving my office before seven o’clock that evening.
Even with work on my mind, I found my eyes often straying from the papers on my desk to the bouquet in the corner.
****
Xavier
“Leaving again so soon?” My mother questioned as she stood in the doorway of my bedroom.
“Yup. You know how it is. I’ve gotta check on the restaurants down in Miami and then go back to D.C. the following week.” I owned two restaurants in Miami and was overseeing the opening of a lounge in D.C; then I had a couple of charity events I planned on attending in New York.
“I do, but sometimes I think you work too hard.”
I turned to face my mother. She stood about five-seven, coming only to my chest. I’d inherited my rich, dark skin from her, along with my one dimple. Her eyes were a few shades lighter than mine, and her hair, which she kept natural, was in a high puff with streaks of gray. By all accounts, my mother was beautiful. At fifty-six, she was the very definition of “black don’t crack.”
She’d been a young college student doing her thing and majoring in psychology when she got pregnant. My father was the campus hotshot athlete who’d had a roster of women, so he didn’t take too kindly to one of his women coming up pregnant. He’d dropped my mother like a bad habit and had barely looked back. It was only until I got a little older did he show up and even then he could’ve stayed where the hell he was. Despite that, my mother never thought about not having me, she’d told me. Seeing her dreams of pursuing a Ph.D. in psychology vanquish, she opted to change to the degree that would be most beneficial to her once she graduated undergrad. Having always been good with numbers, she opted for accounting and got a job at one of the top accounting firm right out of college. Eventually, when I was about ten, she began pursuing an M.B.A., thanks in part because her firm paid for it. It took a few years between going part-time, working full-time, and raising me, but she got her degree and soon after, made partner. My mother knew all about working hard, and she’d raised me to be the same way.
“Didn’t you raise me to work hard for what I want in life?”
She gave me a don’t get cute with me look, which caused my grin to widen. “I did. But I also want you to enjoy life. You don’t have the responsibilities I had at your age.”
“I’m enjoying life, Ma. I promise,” I said, and pressed a kiss to her cheek.
“You’d better be. You make too much money not to enjoy it.”
“Well, if my favorite girl would let me splurge on her a little more often, I could enjoy it a little more.” I raised an eyebrow accusingly.
“Boy,” she waved her hand. “I make more than enough money to splurge on myself.”
“You wouldn’t have to if you’d just retire or, better yet, come work for me, part-time. I’d double the salary you’re making now.” I was dead serious too. My mother made well into six figures at her current job, but I had no problem doubling it if she were to retire right then or come work for me on a part-time basis.
“And do what with all my free time? It would be a better deal if I had some grandbabies I could play with.”
“Here we go.” I rolled my eyes.
“Don’t ‘here we go’ me. I’m just saying, I’m getting up there in age, and it’d be nice to have some grandchildren to spoil rotten.”
“See, that’s why you don’t need any grandchildren. How’re you gonna spoil my kids rotten?”
Her eyes got wide with excitement. “Oh, I’d spoil the mess out of my grandbabies and then send ’em back home to you to deal with their tantrums.”
We both laughed.
“That’s messed up, Ma.”
“It’s what grandmothers do,” she shrugged. “So….speaking of grandchildren...”
Shit! I knew this would come up eventually.
“Chanel is looking lovely these days.” Her voice had taken on a weird note.
“She is,” I agreed.
“And this is the first time I’ve seen you bring a woman home. Not that I’m in your business or anything.” She held up her hands defensively.
My mother was right. This was the first time I’d brought a woman to my home. I kept a condo closer to downtown where I entertained most of my female companions. It didn’t feel right taking Chanel there, although it had been closer to the gala last Friday night. But I didn’t feel the need to reveal all of that to my mother.
“You like her?” Her question was hesitant, and that wasn’t like my mother at all.
“Maybe,” I equivocated, turning from my suitcase to face her. I notice something contemplative in her eyes. “You okay?”
“Who, me? Boy, I’m fine. I was just wondering if you’ve thought about what a relationship with Chanel would mean for your friendship with Jason. That is his younger sister and, well, you’re not exactly the commitment type.”
“Damn, Ma. I could commit if I wanted to. I just haven’t been inspired as of late. And I’ve already spoken with Jason. He was a little taken aback by it, but he’s cool.”
“Mm-hmm.”
I raised an eyebrow but returned to my packing as I didn’t even want to get into that conversation with my mother. Chanel and I had been on one date, although she claimed it wasn’t, and I was still working on trying to get her to agree to a second.
“My car will be here in about ten minutes to take me to the airport.”
“All right, baby. Have a safe trip.” She kissed me on the cheek.
Later, as my bags were loaded into the town car, I replayed the conversation I’d had with my mother. There was something off in her tone and gaze when she discussed Chanel and me. I thought back on their past interactions, which were pretty rare, considering how much Chanel had stayed away over the years, but as far as I knew, they’d never had any clashes and my mom loved Jason like he was her second son—scratch that, third son—after her beloved Pumpkin. As we pulled off for the airport, I pulled out my tablet to focus on the work I needed to get done on the trip.