Contents
Remember Our Love
Copyright
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
Stay Connected
REMEMBER OUR LOVE
Chencia C. Higgins
Copyright Chencia C. Higgins © 2018
www.therealchencia.com
Cover design by James, GoOnWrite.com
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writers’ imagination or have been used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locations or organizations is entirely coincidental. No part of this book may be reproduced in any manner without written permission from the author except in the case of brief quotation embodied in critical articles or reviews. All rights reserved.
CHAPTER ONE
As a rule, I didn’t give two craps about Valentine’s Day. It was a capitalistic scam that I had successfully refused to participate in for more than twenty years. No way was I going to be pulled into spending an insane amount of money to shower someone with gifts on the premise of “love”. Ha! The same women who demanded lavish Valentine’s Day gifts were hilariously content not receiving so much as a card the other 364 days of the year. They were deluded, all of them.
If it wasn’t for my job as an elementary school teacher, I would never even acknowledge this day. As it were, v-day was a big thing for primary schoolers. My school looked like a pink and white tornado had blown through and left every wall and window covered in decorations. It was understood that there would be a party in every classroom, complete with an exchange of cards and candy. My class would not only have a party, but would get to watch a movie as well. Despite how I felt about this fake holiday, I didn’t mind having what was essentially a half free day. I took a deep breath and stretched, patting the other side of the bed to see if it was still warm. It wasn’t.
With a pout, I threw back the covers and padded across the room into the attached bathroom, where my closet was located, so I could get ready for work.
Lee—
You’re so fine. Girl, will you be mine?
—J
Each word was on a separate paper that had been arranged into a heart above the double sink that was mine. My lips curved into a smile as I recognized the message scrawled in cramped, loopy handwriting on the sticky notes stuck to the bathroom mirror. It was the first thing Jeremiah said to me on the day we met almost sixteen years ago.
My class had ended and I’d been standing outside of the art building talking to a few of my classmates when he smoothly broke into the circle and grabbed my hand. His boldness had shocked me into silence and I watched with raised eyebrows as he bent his head and pressed a gentle kiss to the back of my knuckles.
The three girls I’d been discussing an assignment with erupted with a chorus of “Ooohh!” And I felt my golden brown skin heat at the public display.
I knew who he was. In the two years that I’d been a student at UAPB, I had seen Jeremiah around campus quite a few times but was sure he’d never seen me. That made his approach even more confusing.
He lifted those chestnut brown eyes to mine and speared me with his gaze, rendering me not only mute but immobile. It wasn’t until his lips—plump and brown—parted and he said, “You’re so fine. Girl, will you be mine?” That the spell was broken.
I retracted my hand as my friends and I burst out laughing. With a shake of my head I shifted my books from one arm to the other and I responded with, “Boy, stop playing!”
My moment of confusion was instantly cleared up. If he was giving me a line as corny as that one, I knew he had to be joking and it probably had something to do with the two dudes who stood ten yards away, cracking up. Without a second thought, I eased past him and walked across the lawn, resuming the previously interrupted conversation with my classmates who followed me but couldn’t help but steal curious glances at Jeremiah.
I chuckled as I brushed my teeth and washed my face. It had been a long time since I’d thought about that day and I appreciated the sweet gesture in the reminder. As I moved throughout the rest of my regular morning routine—getting dressed, styling my kinky black hair, and applying my makeup— my eyes kept drifting to the sticky note and I found myself smiling,
With my purse in one hand and my shoes in the other, I descended the stairs and entered the kitchen where the scene caused my jaw to drop open and my eyes to widen in surprise. In the middle of the spacious kitchen stood my fully dressed eleven-year-old daughter holding a tray in her hands. My child, whose eyes did not open until I switched on her bedroom light and pulled back her covers every morning, was downstairs and in the kitchen before me. A sound of disbelief fell from my lips and as soon as the dark-brown eyes that she’d inherited from her father took notice of me, she huffed loudly and stomped her foot.
“Aww, mommy! I was supposed to bring you breakfast in bed!”
I smirked even as my heart melted at her confession. Placing my purse on the island counter top and dropping my shoes on the wood floor, I headed toward her. “You would have had to have this together an hour ago if that was your intention, Ja’mya.”
“Man!” Her thin shoulders drooped with disappointment and she placed the tray on the island.
I wrapped my arms around her and squeezed her to me, pressing a kiss to her forehead. No matter what today was, if my daughter was trying to surprise me, I would do what I could to go along with it.
“It’s okay, sweetie. Show me what you made for me so I can eat it right now.”
Surprisingly, she shook her head. “No, daddy made this, I was just supposed to bring it to you.”
“Daddy cooked this morning?” My brows lifted and I looked around as if I expected Jeremiah to come around the corner. I wasn’t surprised that he had cooked. Sabrina Hawkins made sure all three of her sons knew how to cut up in the kitchen. Jeremiah didn’t really get the opportunity because I loved to cook and try new recipes for my family. My reaction was more or less tied to the heart shaped note on my bathroom mirror with this nostalgic breakfast as a follow up.
Ja’mya nodded and removed the frosted glass cake dome—which, I made a mental note to speak to Jeremiah about using it for anything other than cake— and set it gingerly on the silestone counter top. My cheeks lifted as I recognized the meal on the plate. The sautéed pork chop, two-egg cheese omelet, and buttered, cinnamon raisin bread was identical to the meal Jeremiah had cooked for me the morning after our first sleepover, just three months after his failed one-liner.
It was the smell of frying pork that woke me up. I lifted my arms above my head in a stretch but froze as I remembered where I was. After a perfect date of barbecue and bowling, Jeremiah had invited me back to the house he shared with his younger brother Jereth, not far from campus. It hadn’t taken much convincing for him to kiss me out of my clothes or for me to agree to stay the night.
After a trip to the bathroom, I pulled on my clothes from the night before and followed the smells until I reached the galley kitchen. My mouth went dry at the sight of the delicious mahogany skin on his shirtless body as he maneuvered around the small space with ease.
When he noticed me standing in the doorway, he grinned.
“Good morning, beautiful. You hungry?”
I remember how I’d licked my lips while staring brazenly at the thick bulge in his loose basketball shorts. How I’d dragged my gaze up his muscular frame until my eyes met his own and murmured huskily, “I could eat.”
He held a spatula in one hand and the other slapped against his chest.
“Damn, girl. You gon’ make me say ‘fuck this breakfast’ I made for you and ca
rry your ass back to bed.”
My cheeks heated at the image his vulgarity brought to mind and just as I started to tell him that didn’t sound like a bad idea, my stomach erupted with a loud gurgle, causing us both to laugh.
I thanked my daughter for her assistance and instructed her to go back upstairs and finish getting ready for school. Once she was gone, I dragged the tray across the island and plopped down onto a barstool as I dug in. My eyes fluttered closed as the still warm food warmed my heart as well.
This meal, plus this morning’s note, were equivalent to an unexpected and expensive gift but because they were obviously well thought out and didn’t cost much of anything, I didn’t know how to take them. Jeremiah and I had never celebrated Valentine’s Day. Many debates in college—led by myself—made us agree to reject social constructs like man-made holidays, traditional gender roles, and marriage. Years later, it still worked for us and I had no desire to rock the boat. I couldn’t deny, though, that these few priceless surprises felt like small waves that soothed instead of scared me.
I wonder what that man of mine had up his sleeve.
CHAPTER TWO
Once at the school, Ja’mya gave me a hug and pressed a quick kiss to my cheek before she rushed down the hall to meet up with her friends in the cafeteria. A train case filled with cards and candy bounced off her thigh as she scurried away from me. All I could do was shake my head. No matter what I told that girl about commercialism, she insisted on participating in the school sponsored activities every year.
In no time I was across the building in my own classroom, monitoring a mandatory holiday party for my own class of fifth-graders. One of the teachers in my hall had suggested that we order pizzas for all of our students and the rest of us agreed without hesitation. That same teacher then slyly added in that she thought we should forego any regular instruction after the party and that’s where I lifted an eyebrow. My objection was vetoed five to one.
A knock sounded on the door and one of my students rushed to open it. I rounded my desk and stood by the table that had been dedicated to all manner of themed party snacks. When my assistant principal entered with three boxes of pizza in one hand and a glass vase filled with cellophane wrapped fruit on sticks, the class erupted in cheers.
I took the boxes from Albert and murmured my thanks, setting them on the table. When I turned back, he handed me the vase.
“This is for you, Ms. Sutton.”
I smiled even as my brows furrowed in confusion. Was this another gift from Jeremiah? I took the vase and deposited it on my desk. After my students were all settled in their seats with slices of pizza I sat down and pulled the card from the vase. I set it on my desk and examined the contents of the arrangement. It looked like slices of pineapple that had been cut to resemble different flowers. Among the bouquet, I noticed a small, white, note card was taped to one of the sticks. I gently peeled it off, being careful not to knock any fruit loose, and read the note written in that familiar handwriting.
Lee—
Down below and especially up top,
The sweetness of pineapples just won’t stop.
—J
It took me a moment but when I realized what this note alluded to I brought my hand up to my mouth to cover up my grin.
Until the day Jeremiah had approached me outside of the art building, I had only saw him around campus a few times in the entire two years I’d been attending UAPB. After that day I saw him several times a week; almost every day. I began to see him off campus just as much as on, but I couldn’t figure out why. With his beautiful face covered in smooth dark chocolate skin and enticing smile, he was fun to look at—so I wasn’t complaining—I was merely curious how he seemed to be everywhere I went all of a sudden.
One particular day, I was traipsing through Brookshire’s, munching on cut pineapple slices from the produce section while my roommate, Trisha, and I grocery shopped for our on-campus apartment. I had just put a carton of eggs in the basket when Trisha smirked.
“Ooh, there go your man, Lee!”
I choked on a bit of fruit at her whispered exclamation. I had not boy nor man and she knew that better than anyone.
“Don’t play with me, Tris—”
My words melted on my tongue as I smelled him before I saw him. The way my body warmed at his scent made me roll my eyes. It was Jeremiah, and I wanted to be mad that Trisha had insinuated that he was my man but I couldn’t find any emotion but giddiness inside of me at the way he snaked his arm around my waist and pulled me back against his chest.
“I bet you taste sweet, just like that pineapple, girl.”
His lips hovered near my ear and his breath tickled, causing me to shiver. I stayed in his embrace but moved my head away from him. I was unwilling to admit, even to myself, how much I liked the bold way he inserted himself into my personal space.
“You know that my name isn’t ‘Girl’, right?”
“Why don’t you kiss her and see?”
My mouth hung open as my eyes flew to Trisha who stood with one hand on her hip and the other on the handle of the basket. She smirked at me and dropped her gaze to my waist where Jeremiah’s purple and gold clad arm seemed entirely too comfortable resting possessively. I swallowed my retort and pushed at the muscled limb, putting two feet of space between us, and stepping closer to my roommate.
Jeremiah grabbed my hand and pulled me back toward him. “I know what your name is.” To Trisha he said, “You think she’ll slap me if I tried?”
Raising a hand in the air, I shook my head. “Hold up, what?”
Trisha laughed and shook her head. “Not a chance. She’s been waiting on you to make a move.”
I gasped. “Trisha!” She was breaking girl code with her loose lips. If she didn’t shut up, I was going to put an ad in the paper for a new roommate and possibly pop her in the mouth.
Jeremiah grinned and aimed a wink in Trisha’s direction before squeezing my hand. “Lisa.”
My eyes widened as my neck jerked to the side. I was genuinely surprised that he knew my name. We didn’t run in the same circles or have mutual friends. I was a sophomore and he was a senior. Not to mention, he was frat and I was decidedly not a sorority girl. As soon as my head swung back in his direction, he slipped his arm back around my waist and pulled me to him, pressing his soft lips against mine. He took advantage of my gasp and smoothly slid his tongue into my mouth, in search of my own. I tentatively brushed mine against his and he sucked in a breath before ending the brief kiss with a light smack.
“I wonder,” he whispered, his voice full of curiosity.
I’d unknowingly leaned into him during the kiss, but the sound of Trisha chuckling behind me made me stand up straight. I cleared my throat.
“Wonder what?”
The grin he gave me was filled with mischief and lust. “If you taste as good down there as you do up here.” He brushed my moist lips with his fingertips before kissing me once more and stepping back. “I can’t wait to find out.”
It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him that was privileged information that he’d never be privy to but I couldn’t make myself say the words. He smirked, as if he could hear them in my thoughts, and backed away slowly before turning around and disappearing down the aisle.
“Ooh, who sent you that, Ms. Sutton?” One of my students stood in front of my desk with greedy eyes trained on my bouquet of fruit.
I gave him a pointed look. “That isn’t any of your business, Andre. More importantly, you have an entire table filled with snacks right over there. Go and eat until your little belly is filled.” I waited for him to catch an understanding and walk off. Once he was seated at his desk with a second plate full of treats, I plucked a piece of fruit from the vase and bit into it. It was unbelievably juicy and fresh. Just like the pineapple I was eating on the day of mine and Jeremiah’s first kiss all those years ago. I couldn’t wait until I saw him so I could find out what this was all about.
CHAPTER THREE
When the final bell of the day rang signifying dismissal and a—hopeful— end to questions I had answer for, I was eager to leave. I hurried the students along, collecting empty plates and gathering up word search sheets and color pencils from around the room. Once the last of my students were gone, it took about half an hour to get my classroom back to normal. I gathered the trash that had been missed during cleanup time; soiled table cloths and single use decorations, and shoved it all in the industrial sized bag I had been given during the morning meeting.
“Hey mommy.”
I looked up to see Ja’mya standing in the doorway. The train case was hanging from the crook of her bent elbow and in her hands was medium sized square box. The box was wrapped in pink paper and topped with a red bow.
“Hey, baby. What’s in the box?” I grabbed my purse out of my desk and dragged the big bag of trash to the door. Leaving the bag by the door, I waited until Ja’mya stepped back so I could exit the room and close the door behind me.
“I don’t know. It’s not for me.”
I glanced at her as we walked down the empty hallway. “Then why do you have it?”
She used her hip to push open the double doors that led to the faculty parking lot and grinned at me. “So that I can give it to you!”
I gave her a sharp look. “Mya.”
She giggled and skipped down the steps outside of the door, coming to a halt on the sidewalk that ran the perimeter of the school and held the box out to me. “I’m serious, mommy. It’s for you.”
I hesitated before taking the box while two emotions warred inside of me. On one hand, I was eager to rip into the box and see if it was another surprise from Jeremiah; but on the other hand I was becoming increasingly nervous about this series of “gifts”. They were coming out of nowhere and I couldn’t figure out the reason for them.
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