Love Delayed

by Love Belvin

  We finally made it to our main course. Stenton must have noticed that I wasn’t taking in much, so had the waiter when he came over.

  “Is everything to your satisfaction, ma’am?”

  I noticed Stenton’s inquisitive gaze immediately. I fought through my nerves to pat my belly.

  “Full house in here. Can’t fit a five course in anymore. More like a two,” I joked sheepishly.

  “I can wrap this to go if you’d like,” the waiter offered.

  Braving a glance at Stenton, I answered, “Sure. That would be great.”

  The waiter took off with my plate and I paid Stenton a glance. I’d hoped he wasn’t offended. He did, however, seem preoccupied by it.

  He shot me a long glance for a few seconds before asking, “Are you going to have time for dessert? It’s your birthday; can’t forget the cake,” Stenton gave a wry smile, but one that was expressed in his eyes.

  I only responded with a regretful smile. I couldn’t eat. Though I was one of those pregnant women with a robust appetite, my unease countered my need for food.

  “So, how are you?” He gestured to me with his chin.

  “Hanging on in there, considering the circumstances.” I rubbed my belly.

  His face turned crestfallen right away. “Are they giving you shit, Zo? All this time I figured you were good…being with your family and all, but if those fucking holy rollers are giving you a hard time—”

  “No,” I murmured then ducked my chin. I didn’t want to think about folks from my church. Yes, they were having a time with the third consecutive pregnancy out of wedlock in our flock, but my parents had been shielding me from much of the scrutiny. “The people will be the people. But my pastor has been great. I know I’ve disappointed him. Similar to my parents, he thought I was the difference. Nonetheless, he’s been comforting. He’s a bit younger than that Old Testament crew who still conduct themselves as they did before the day of Pentecost, but it’s no big deal…”

  …nothing in comparison to my vacant chest from you stealing my heart.

  My eyes traveled beyond him, stalling to think of an appropriate answer to his original question without coming off as angry. I was lonely, big and tired…all of the time. I felt abandoned and useless. Why shouldn’t I share this? What would I have to lose? He’d already decided against taking the journey with me. Or would I do undue damage to what my heart really desired?

  Decided, I looked directly into his eyes and answered, “I’m hormonal.”

  He wanted an answer, I’d be truthful.

  “As in physically?” His bushy eyebrows furrowed.

  “Emotionally, often. I wake up confused about my trajectory in life, and I go to bed lost in my reality. I get low from time to time. But yeah, that, too. Physically…my body is a wreck from day to day.”

  I could see Stent’s mind turning over the mouthful I’d given him. He seemed concerned and confused himself. I couldn’t torture myself to figure out the specifics of his brain’s activity. Moments later, his long arm inched across the table in search of mine, and when he touched me I flinched.

  “You’re not alone,” his tone was soft, sympathetic. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think it was laced with regret. “Whatever you need, you know you can just pick up the phone. No matter the expense. It’s yours, Niña.”

  And there goes that pet name again. The name he called me when things were light and…good and uncomplicated. The name he could justifiably call me when I was innocent. It was not an appropriate name for my current state. I was no longer his baby girl. I was a full-fledged woman, about to give birth to a real baby.

  I quickly swiped the tear that slipped. I let out a snort then a quick sniffle, embarrassed by the slip of emotions. He didn’t want to see me weak. It was not a problem his handlers could be assigned to.

  “I’m sorry,” I rushed my napkin to my face to hide my stream of tears. “You don’t want to see me like this,” my voice was no more than a whisper.

  “No…no! I want to know what you’re feeling. Really,” his words poured, almost fearfully.

  Then he called the waiter over for the check. The next thing I knew, we were back in his Ferrari, speeding the pavement again. We drove and drove, for how long, I didn’t know. Each time I’d steal a glance over at Stenton, I’d see his brow line. He was deep in thought. In time, we reached Exit 6 on the New Jersey Turnpike. I knew instantly we were headed to Philadelphia. We ended up in Center City where the streets were aligned with bright lights and the personality of the streetwalkers ranged from stiff elites to the wobbling homeless at that hour. We made a few turns off of South Broad Street and pulled into a private parking garage inside a warehouse.

  Stenton reached into the center console and pulled out a large white envelope before leaving the car. He ambled towards my side of the car and helped me out. We entered a high-rise and although I wanted to ask about our destination, my gut told me to be quiet and grateful to be with him.

  We walked to the elevator and I could smell the fumes of fresh construction, although the outside of the building looked weathered. The ride up to the second level was short. He grabbed my hand to lead me out of the elevator. We did a short walk down the hallway before he stopped and unsealed the envelope to pull out a large silver key. He unlocked then pushed the door open and invited me inside. My first thought was of Stenton finally breaking and letting me back in. This must be his new place and he’s sharing it with me. I stopped in the foyer and observed the lengthy all white walls.

  Once he closed the door behind me, Stenton advanced ahead of me inside and swung his arm and hand toward the place, and croaked out solemnly, “Happy birthday, Zoey.”

  My forehead wrinkled, trying to understand his statement. I looked into his eyes, lost. He inclined his head, inviting me to explore the place. I found myself off, crossing the vestibule. To my immediate right was another corridor leading to a huge kitchen to the right. The room boasted cherry wood cabinetry. The stove was a material I’d never seen, and with gold button-like features. The island was huge and centered the large room. Over in the corner was a small kitchen table for two with a lovely view of the city. Across from the island was a formal table that seated six. It was stunning.

  I strolled out of the kitchen and back into the hall until I found my way into the living room. It was a humongous loft with large windows and asymmetric walls. The furniture was contemporary, yet modest in size. Next, I went to the end of the same hall and found the dining room. Fitting with the motif of the rest of the place, it was extremely spacious and contemporary. In the center was a large lacquered table that could seat ten people. Overwhelmed, I turned and made my way out and back into the hall.

  When I passed back by the foyer, I continued to the other side of the enormous place. I observed a large closet then a fully decorated bedroom with a queen bed. Across from that was a room with an office setting, decorated with furniture and all. Going back out into the hall, I passed a bathroom larger than my bedroom at home and my dorm. All the way at the end of the hall, I opened the door and lost my breath. It was a nursery. This was clear to me from the crib and bassinet along with the soft green paired with black and white scheme. There was an en suite bathroom decorated with a child’s theme causing my belly to flutter with excitement and my heart to melt sentimentally.

  Darn hormones.

  I had to leave before my tears fell. I closed the door behind me and started my search for Stenton. On the way, my phone went off, alerting a text. I removed my coat before going for my phone. When I checked it, I saw was from my sister, Ruth.

  Holy fucking gaud! Did Stent just have a SQ5 delivered here?

  What? I replied.

  Holy shit, Zo! This shit is on fiyah!

  My mouth dropped. I knew enough to know Ruth didn’t play Jedi mind tricks. She had to have been telling the truth. I was stunned.

  We’ll chat when I get home I shot back to her, still needing to finish exploring the mammoth apartment.
/>
  Hurry! I want to ride!

  I sighed, feeling tightness in my chest. What in the world was going on? Then I made my way into the last room of the corridor. It was nearly three times the size of the previous two bedrooms and office. There was a short passageway beyond the door, making it clear that I was entering the master suite. Excitement bloomed in my chest at the ebony hardwood floors against the ivory walls. My eyes immediately went to the large wall mirror in some fancy design hanging above a long padded bench.

  My eyes trailed to the large fireplace facing the bed. The bed! It was a poster bed, similar to the one I’d fallen in love with in the Cayman Islands. The bed Stenton fastened me to nearly every night and had his way with me. Beyond that was a massive picture window larger than Stenton’s in Philly. The view of the city was breathtaking and I’m sure that was by design.

  When I finally came to my wits, I heard a familiar masculine tenor, almost whispering. I looked up and found Stenton in the corner on his cell. His coat was off and eyes were already glued to me in a preoccupied fashion.

  I didn’t catch it all, but I was able to make out, “I wanted to show her the new place for her and the baby when she’s ready. Yes, sir. I understand. She may need a minute to take it all in. Yes, sir. I will have her home first thing in the morning. Yes, sir. I appreciate your understanding, sir. Uhn-hun. Goodnight, sir. Give Sarah my goodnight as well. Sorry to have disturbed you, sir.”

  Did Stenton just inform my dad that I wouldn’t be coming home? What was this?

  He tapped the phone off, dropped it into his back pocket, and gazed at me while posted against the wall.

  “You bought me a truck?” I asked stoically, though I was on sensory overload internally.

  He nodded his answer.

  While it wasn’t the most pressing question in my head, neither was it one of priority between the two of us. I asked, “What about the BMW?”

  “That’s up to you. You can keep it or sell it. Just tell Paul what you want to do with it.” He shrugged.

  Stenton was inspecting me, concerned with my next move. My chest began to heave and my chin hiked to prevent the tears. My breathing was scattered as I fought to hold it together. I felt my face grimace into a cry, but refused to commence the tears. I didn’t want to cry. In that moment, I needed to understand. I needed to know if this nightmare was over.

  Would I now feel a semblance of the jubilation we’d shared before this pregnancy?

  Was he prepared to step up?

  “The place is staged,” his voice was low, obviously unsure. His marble eyes bounced between mine nervously. “You know…the furniture was added for the appeal. They’ll be by in a day or two to pick up everything. Except for the bed.” With his chin, he gestured ahead of him to the massive, high four-poster bed against the wall. Stenton cleared his throat. “That’s yours. You can change the bedding or keep them. I didn’t know what your preference would be. I have an interior designer on standby if you’re not up to decorating all of this.” He was rambling, anxious.

  As I stood there, visibly shaking, fighting to keep my well acquainted sobs at bay, I questioned him with my eyes. He didn’t speak to them for a while, wearing a contortion himself. Okay, let me try with words. I was cracking by the second. I could wait no longer.

  “What does this mean?” I gritted through clenched teeth, my expression more angry than hurt.

  Stenton’s eyes glossed. He shook his head and grumbled through his impending emotions, “We’re not ready yet.” He cleared his throat again. Then his head collapsed into the wall that held up his long frame.

  His eyes never left mine, but his message was crystal clear. He was not asking to be a family as I’d hoped. However, his heart was not ambiguous in his expression. We were together, in that moment. He’d just informed my father that I wouldn’t be coming home tonight. I could see the swelling against his thigh, could feel his longing mere feet away. With my body still trembling, now humming for his touch, my neck straightened. I was communicating back to him. I needed him. Still.

  After long seconds, he pleaded, “I don’t know how. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  There was more than one interpretation of his words. He wasn’t ready. This wasn’t an attempt to reconcile. My heart broke, but my body rattled with overwhelming desire. In that moment—its first occurrence of many over the years to come—I conceded. I consented to overlooking my heart.

  “You hurt me by maintaining this distance. You have me question how,” I grabbed my belly. “…this happened…did it come from love. You wound me by not touching me, making me still feel desired. You cause pain each day you neglect my heart!” The tears finally descended and my shoulders collapsed.

  I heard when he painfully breathed out, “Niña…”

  In a nanosecond, Stenton was on me. His tongue was down my throat, filling me, pouring the familiarity of the love we once shared. The love that I’d easily forgotten that he carried, too. My hands cupped his face. The pads of my fingers moved against the spikey hairs of his strong jaw as I joined his tongue in a tussle. My breasts grew heavy, my breathing ragged and audible. Stenton’s big hands grabbed my rear cheeks in a rough pull, raising me inches above my natural ground. My hands moved up and wildly through his hair, reminding me of old times.

  He backed me to the bed. I didn’t want to separate from our embrace. Apparently, neither did he when he lifted me from underneath my arms and placed me on the edge. Before I knew it, he was removing my clothes, caressing the goose bumps that cover my skin. I pulled his shirt over his head as he hovered above me, needing to see the artwork of his mahogany skin. My breath caught at the recognition of the black, yellow and red ink stains that stretched nearly his entire upper frame. His lean muscles flexing in excitement, reminding me of our chemistry.

  My hands flew to his jeans, impatiently undoing his belt then button and zipper. I pulled his pants down and without thought pulled him into my mouth. He mumbled something through his teeth that I couldn’t decipher because I was too busy expressing my needs. Stenton nearly collapsed backwards, having to catch himself. When he did he roughly pulled my clothes from my body, only using delicate hands around my belly. Once everything was off and we were both bare, I hurriedly scooted up the bed to make room for him.

  Some feral sound shot from the back of his throat before I heard, “C’mere!” as he grabbed me at the thighs and buried his head between my trembling thighs.

  My back slammed against the mattress and my hands raced to the back of his head, holding him in place. I missed his touch. I was reminded of how his tongue firmly moved in between my slickened lips with hunger. I felt him in every crevice below, licking and sucking and pulling and sparring and…humming. That’s new. Stenton was droning his satisfaction of my intimate flavor. In no time, my pelvis went from rocking to vibrating beneath his face. Delicious pressure mounted, not giving a moment to brace myself. I screamed my release with one hand on my bulging belly and the other on the back of his head.

  My thighs were being pulled back down the bed. And before I could clear the blur from my eyes, I was being pulled from the bed by my arms. I tried clearing my hazed eyes, and when I did, I saw Stenton lowering himself in front of me.

  “You’re in your 30th week. I don’t think you should be lying on your back,” he murmured as he placed his head to my bare belly.

  I was still out of breath and confused by the sudden change in elevation. I felt lightheaded and all I really wanted to do was lay down and catch my breath. His scent was rousing and didn’t help me relax.

  “I’m fine,” I whispered. “Really.”

  Stent’s big hands were splayed over my bourgeoned abdomen. “No. You grabbed your belly and then I felt the baby move just before you…” he cleared his throat. “…came.” His eyes were quizzical as he stared into the distance, feeling my tummy in an examining manner. “Plus, I know at this time, you can be experiencing lots of heartburn. Your mom told me about the episode you had last week w
hen she needed to go out to get you some TUMS.”

  W-what?

  “You spoke to my mother? She didn’t tell me,” my voice was a bit clipped.

  “I speak to Sarah all the time,” he informed unperturbed. “I told her that it was about that time. I read the same hormones that cause the heartburn are what assist in relaxing your pelvic muscles when you deliver. A gift and a curse in my opinion.” He gazed up to me with a forlorn smile.

  “Stenton, what do you mean, you speak to my mother all the time? I wasn’t aware of this.” My words come out formally, despite his mouth having just been on my vagina seconds ago, because over the past few months, that’s the tone he’d taken with me.

  “I have to keep track of you and the pregnancy,” he appeared confused. “You won’t call with updates. You don’t even call to say hello.”

  I’m confused. Was he smoking crack?

  “You broke up with me—”

  “I’m still here for you, Zo. I’m still expecting a baby,” he qualified resolutely and paused to examine my eyes. “I’m excited to be a dad. All these years, I’ve entertained millions. Brought joy and excitement to the lives of people I’ll never meet. This thing,” his words pour throaty as he cups my belly. “This is something I keep for me. This is a piece of happiness I created and doesn’t have to be shared with the world; just with the co-creator and those who will cherish it as much as I plan on doing. I would like to enjoy him even now that he’s in here, so I call to check in.”

  And there was the Stenton I knew. The one I’d been spending months wondering if he’d ever existed. The conception was an accident, but this baby was created by love. Still things didn’t add up.

  “You’re doing that thing with your throat again,” he informed with a glint in his eyes. I don’t know why he finds my irritating habit so amusing. “What’s going through that head of yours?”

  “Things have become so…clinical between us. You want me to call your people for my needs. That doesn’t sound like you want to be a part of this with me.”