Stuck-Up Suit
“Oh.”
“When we split up, Meme didn’t seem too surprised. One day over lunch, she asked me why I hadn’t given Genevieve her engagement ring. The thought had never even occurred to me, to be honest. Meme had given me her ring when I turned twenty-one and told me that it belonged to whomever I eventually gave my heart to. My grandmother’s ring was small and simple. It wasn’t until the relationship had ended and Meme had pointed out the obvious to me that I understood the significance. There was never a question in my mind, given the choice between a small ring that meant a lot to me and a flashy rock, Genevieve would rather have had that rock. And I knew that enough to not give her my grandmother’s ring. But I didn’t stop to think about what that said about who she was.”
“Wow. She sounds like a real fucking bitch.”
Graham laughed. It was good to hear it. “That’s what I love about you, Soraya. You call it like you see it. The first time you did it to me, I was pissed, but also hard as a rock.”
I wrapped my hands around his neck and gave him a dirty grin. “You’re a stuck-up suit who can’t even remember his secretary’s name.”
Graham squinted and then quickly caught on. His lips went to my neck. “Go on.”
“Most of the time, you don’t even notice the people around you.”
“Is that so?” His voice was gravelly, and his mouth nibbled its way up to my ear.
“You think women should just spread their legs for you because of what you look like.”
His hand caressed its way down my body, landing on my bare thigh. He spoke directly into my ear as he nudged my legs open. “Spread your legs for me, Soraya.”
I tried not to. I really did. But that voice…
“Spread for me, Soraya. I need to hear you moan my name.”
“You’re so confident you can…” He lowered his body down the bed, settling his shoulders between my legs. I was already wet, and his warm breath right there shot fire through my body. I quickly spread my legs.
***
BY AFTERNOON, ALL THE CONFIDENCE in our relationship that this morning had instilled was already starting to dissipate. Ida had me running errands for her since lunch time. In line at the bank, the man in front of me was with his daughter. She was probably around the same age as Chloe. Sitting on the seven train on my way to the printer, a couple was seated across from me. Their daughter was holding on to the pole, spinning around and around. It probably wasn’t a profound moment for them, but for me, I saw a happy family. Reminders were everywhere I looked.
After my last errand for the day, I was standing on the platform waiting for my southbound train to arrive. Across the track, the northbound seven arrived. The word next to the circled seven caught my attention. Queens. Without thinking, I hoped on, just as the doors slid closed.
What the hell was I doing? I hadn’t seen him in eight years. For all I knew, he might not even live in Queens anymore. When I exited at the Sixty-First Street Station, a northbound train was pulling up. Looking across, I considered going back where I’d just came from. I thought about it for so long, that eventually people had to walk around me while I stood frozen in place watching the train pull away.
His house was only about eight blocks from the station. Around the third block, my phone buzzed, and Graham’s name flashed on the screen. My finger lingered over the DECLINE button, but then I remembered what I told him last night. I would be there for him. I wouldn’t avoid him anymore.
“Hey.”
“Hey, gorgeous. How was your day?”
I was standing at the crosswalk waiting for a light to turn green. “Busy. Ida had me running all around the city doing errands.” Just then, the light turned, and I stepped off of the curb. Out of nowhere, a cab pulled up in front of me, less than an inch from my toes. I banged on the trunk of the yellow car. “Hey, asshole. Watch where you’re going!”
“Soraya?”
“Yeah. Sorry. A cabbie almost just ran over my foot.”
“You’re still in Manhattan?”
“Actually, no.”
“Oh. Good. I just finished a meeting in Brooklyn. Where are you? I’ll pick you up, and we can grab some dinner?”
I was quiet for a minute. “I’m not in Brooklyn.”
“Where are you?”
“Queens.”
“Oh. I didn’t realize you were still doing errands.”
“I’m not, actually.” I swallowed. “I’m going to see my father.”
Graham didn’t ask me why I was going; the reason was pretty obvious. We talked for the rest of the walk, and I told him I’d text him when I was done so that we could have dinner. When I hung up, I stopped in my tracks, realizing my father’s house was only two doors down. What was I coming to say?