by Tina Martin
“You as well, Tennyson.”
“Good night,” he said extending his hand not wanting to presume a hug would be okay with her at the moment but that’s really what he wanted.
Zoya accepted his handshake then locked eyes with him. “Goodnight, Tennyson.”
After holding her hand longer than he’d expected and still not wanting to let go, he slowly pulled his hand away from hers and opened the door to his car.
Zoya gave a final wave then headed back to the house, all smiles.
* * *
Later as she prepared for bed, she called her mother. Florence answered the phone asking, “How’s Savannah?”
Zoya laughed. “Oh. I see how it is. It’s all about Savannah now, huh?”
“Yes. That’s why you went there right? To help Savannah?”
“Right,” Zoya said. “Savannah is doing good. The baby is okay and kicking her every day. Harding is okay, too. Now, is it my turn?”
“Lord have mercy,” Florence said tickled.
Zoya chuckled.
“How are you, Zoya?”
“I’m doing good, mother. How about you?”
“I’m doing okay.”
Zoya glanced at the clock. “I’m surprised you’re still up.”
“I was just about to turn in when your call came through.”
“Oh. Then, I won’t keep you.”
“That’s okay, Zoe. You already have me on the phone now. What’s on your mind?”
“You.”
“Me?”
“Yes. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about this whole thing with dad and I was wondering—do you regret falling for him?”
“Yes and no. I regret I put up with something I said I’d never do. But I don’t regret my beautiful children—you, Amira, Mordecai and Harding.”
“I know, Ma, but how could you love a man who was in love with someone else? Who was married to someone else?”
“When you’re in the thick of the situation, sometimes you don’t see things for what they really are. That’s exactly how it was. I was so in love with your father, I hung on to his every word.”
“So, if you could do it all over again—”
“I honestly can’t say what I would do, Zoe.”
“Then give me some advice. If I meet a man and he has a woman on the side—”
“You need to run as fast as you can,” Florence said then laughed.
Zoya laughed, too. “That’s exactly what I would do,” she told her. “Anyway, I’m going to let you get to bed now. I love you.”
“Love you too, dear. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.”
Chapter 11
“If we put ourselves in these different scenarios, maybe we can come up with an ethical solution to the problem that would accommodate all parties,” Savannah said glancing up at Tennyson.
Tennyson was staring in the direction of the kitchen. He couldn’t focus on work – not while Zoya was cooking breakfast. He blinked, glanced down at the folder on his lap, then looked up at Savannah. “Sorry, did you say something?” he asked.
“I did, but you were all up in the kitchen trying to see what Zoe is up to.”
“Guilty, your honor.”
Savannah giggled. “We can work in there if you would like. She’s cooking breakfast.”
“No, that’s okay. I know you prefer working in here.”
“Yes, but it’ll be much easier to eat and sip coffee in the kitchen, so let’s go, partner.”
“Are you sure?” he asked.
“Yep,” she said, standing. “Positive.”
When Zoya looked up and saw the lawyer duo walking into the kitchen with their folders, she smiled. She’d already greeted Savannah earlier this morning, so she looked at Tennyson and said, “Good morning, Mr. Tillman.”
“Good morning, Ms. Champion,” he replied, looking her from head to toe again. She wore a long-sleeve beige shirt today with a pair of dark blue jeans. She had a pair of bedroom slippers on her feet as she moved across the floor buttering toast. Flipping bacon. Stirring eggs.
Tennyson looked at Savannah and whispered, “Is she always this amazing?”
Savannah nodded and smiled, watching as Zoya brought coffee their way.
“Here you are,” Zoya said, lowering the cups to the table. “One regular for the gentleman and a decaf for the lady.”
“Thank you, Zoya,” Tennyson said.
“Yes. Thank you,” Savannah chimed in.
“You’re welcome. Hopefully, it’ll help you two wake up so you can talk about all your legal stuff.
Tennyson took a long sip and then said, “Ah. Yes, this should do it.”
Zoya returned to the stove where she turned off the bacon then prepared plates for them. “Enjoy,” she said leaving the plates on the table, “And if you need anything, Savannah, just holler. I’m going to do some laundry.”
“Okay, Zoe. Thanks.”
* * *
As far as Zoya was concerned, washing, drying and folding clothes was a lot easier than trying to decide on wallpaper. Still, she found some online that she thought Savannah might like and ordered a few samples. Sometimes, things appeared different online than how they actually looked and she wanted to make sure the wallpaper was exactly what Savannah wanted.
It was around four when Tennyson ended the workday a full hour early. He couldn’t focus, anyway. He was too busy thinking about Zoya, anxious to engage in more conversation with her. Still standing in the living room with Savannah, he dialed Zoya’s number and when she answered, he asked, “Hey, where are you?”
“I’m still here, laying on the bed. What’s up?”
“I’m done with work if you want to come on down.”
“You’re done?” Zoya glanced at her watch. “It’s only four o’clock. Don’t you usually head to the office around this time?”
“Usually, but not today. Today is all about you.”
“All about me, huh, slacker?”
He chuckled a bit. “Yes. How about you ride with me this time?”
“Hmm...not sure about that.”
“What are you not sure about? I passed the brother test, remember? Surely you’re not afraid to be alone with me. I can assure you that you will be safe. I will keep my hands to myself and I won’t touch you unless you want me to. Do we have a deal?”
“Okay. Deal. Where are we going?”
“Are you hungry?”
“Not at the moment. It’s a little too early for dinner, anyway.”
“Then, we can go by my place. I could show you around if that’s okay.”
“Sure. The last time I was there, I didn’t get to actually see the place.”
“Let’s not bring that up again. Besides, you’ve redeemed yourself.”
“Okay. Let me get dressed. I’ll be down in ten minutes.”
“I’m setting my timer for ten minutes. I know how you women do.”
Zoya giggled. “This is your way of ensuring I come down in exactly ten minutes, huh?”
“Yep.”
“Then let me get off this phone. See you in nine minutes.”
While waiting for Zoya to come downstairs, Tennyson checked his email on his phone and quickly typed a reply to Dante for one of them. He looked up when he heard Zoya’s voice, like something majestic, say, “Should I bring a jacket?”
He couldn’t find words. Her hair floated around her shoulders. He’d never seen her wear it down. She wore a green blouse that made the hazel tone of her eyes even more splendorous and the black yoga pants she had on – goodness – they looked like they were made just for her physique.
“Tennyson?” Zoya said, waving her hand to take him out of his trance.
“Hey,” he said, surprised he was able to say that much.
“Should I bring a jacket?”
“Yes. It’s almost Spring, but we’re not quite out of the woods yet.”
“Okay,” Zoya said, running back upstairs to grab her jacket off of the bed. The
n she came downstairs again where she stood in front of him. “Where’s Savannah?”
“I’m right here,” Savannah called out from the kitchen. “Go. Have fun. I’ll see you later.”
Zoya shook her head, looked at Tennyson and said, “Give me a moment,” then walked to the kitchen where she saw Savannah eating some leftover salad from dinner last night. “Do you need anything before I go, Savannah?” Zoya asked.
“No. Harding will be here shortly. We’re going out tonight.”
“Shoot…by the way you’re tearing up that salad, you probably don’t need nothing else to eat.”
“Girl, trust me. This is just a snack. This little boy got me eating all kinds of food,” Savannah said, placing her hand on her stomach.
Zoya smiled. “Well, look if you need anything please just call me.”
“I will.”
Zoya joined Tennyson in the living room again. “Ready?”
“Only if you are.”
“Yes, I’m ready,” she said breathily, feeling her nerves come alive with anticipation.
The drive to his place wasn’t a long one. It wasn’t short, either. He made it bearable with light conversation about work. As they got out of the car, Zoya could truly take in the magnificence of his two-level brick home with a cascading roof and a two-car garage.
“Your home looks like two—maybe even three—families could live here.”
“I’m a big guy. I need the room.”
“Whatever,” she said, nudging him with a fist. “You’re not a big guy. You’re a tall guy.”
He grinned as he unlocked the door. “Apparently you can’t see all these muscles. Don’t let the suit fool you. This lawyer carries guns everywhere he goes.”
Zoya laughed. “You’re funny. I like that.”
“Thank you.”
“Well, except for when the joke’s on me like that little stunt you pulled at Savannah’s house the first day I met you.”
He smiled recalling the look on her face that day. “Sorry. I just couldn’t resist.” He took off his suit jacket and laid it on the backrest of one of the barstools in the kitchen.
Zoya got a glimpse of those guns he was referring to and then there was that scent again. She breathed it in. Welcomed it. How could it be that she never in life had this kind of attraction to a man before, so much so, that even the smell of him wreaked havoc on her sensory nerves? What was it about Tennyson Tillman that intrigued her, comforted her and made her feel like she could open up and talk to him about anything?
“How long have you lived here, Tennyson?”
“Five years. Well, actually, this June will make it six.”
“And you don’t get lost—I mean lonely?” she quipped.
“No. I’m used to the silence.”
“I see,” Zoya said. With his lifestyle, he didn’t come across as the settling down type who would want a family. He was a bachelor. Everything about him screamed bachelor – from his expensive suits, cars, cufflinks, watches and now this laid-out bachelor pad that she was busy admiring.
Tennyson popped off his cufflinks and rolled up his sleeves. He showed Zoya to the kitchen then upstairs to where four bedrooms were all decorated nicely, each with its own unique color scheme. She wondered why he hadn’t transformed the rooms into something other than bedrooms. Something that could be a bit more useful than rooms with beds that no one was using. Did he have a lot of family who came to visit? Were those rooms for them?
Once they were downstairs in the kitchen again he said, “Are you sure you don’t want to eat?”
“We could just find a snack in here,” she told him. “I know you got some food up in this kitchen. Go ahead and whip up some bologna sandwiches.”
He chuckled. “I haven’t had a bologna sandwich since I was a kid. I do have some in the fridge though.”
“You’re lying.”
“I kid you not. I bought it to make a salami, ham and bologna sub, but didn’t get around to it.”
Zoya looked at him sideways. “You prepare your own food?”
“Yes,” he said with a chuckle. “Who do you think I am?”
She shrugged. “You don’t come across as a person who cooks his own food and makes his own sandwiches.”
“I do. Don’t get me wrong—I eat out a lot but I cook when I have time. In fact, I’ll make us those subs.”
“You don’t have to do that. I was just teasing you.”
“No. You done started something now.” Tennyson took out a long roll of bread then the food items he would need from the refrigerator: ham, bologna salami, cheese, mustard, lettuce, tomatoes, mayonnaise and a jar of pickles.
“I’ll help,” Zoya said.
“You don’t have to,” Tennyson told her, popping his knuckles. “I got this.”
“No, we got this. It’ll be the first meal we prepare together.”
“You say that like you know there will be more.”
“I didn’t mean it like that.” She playfully slapped his arm when she saw the deadly sexy grin on his face. “I need a butter knife.”
Tennyson opened the drawer that housed his utensils and said, “Here you go.”
“Thank you, Sir.”
“No problem, Madam.”
Zoya proceeded to prepare the bread while Tennyson took a few plates and placed them on the counter. Zoya put a piece of bread on each plate. “Okay, now we need some mustard. Squeeze some on the bread.”
“I think the cheese should go first,” Tennyson said.
“No. Mustard,” she countered. “Let me take care of this.”
“Okay...I’ll follow your lead,” Tennyson digressed.
“Good. I mean, we do want some good sandwiches right?”
“Right.” Tennyson squeezed on the mustard. “Next?”
“I need some lettuce and tomatoes.”
“Coming right up, chef,” he said.
After she put the finishing touches on the sandwiches, they sat at the kitchen table.
“So, you like living alone,” she said.
“I do. I get off work and I come home to peace and quiet. I’ve grown accustomed to it over the years.”
“And you’ve never wanted anything more?”
“Like what?” he asked before biting into the sandwich.
“You know what I’m talking about. Like a family. Kids. Goldfish?”
He laughed. “I’m not sure. I’m like you in that respect.”
“Not necessarily. I only have fears of settling down because of trust issues. Not because I’m a perfect, hot-shot corporate lawyer who has it all and doesn’t need nobody.”
“I don’t have it all, Zoya.”
“It certainly appears that way. On the outside looking in, I’d say you do.”
“Which is somewhat understandable since you don’t know me,” he countered. “If you knew me, you’d know my struggles.”
“I thought that’s what this was—us getting to know each other. Only thing is, you don’t seem to share much about yourself.”
He arched a brow. “I don’t?”
“No. You showed me your house and I don’t know if you did that to impress me or what, but it would be nice if you talked about you.”
It may have been nice, but Tennyson wasn’t much into talking about himself. Never have been. He finished his sandwich quietly. He didn’t even look up at her – just kept on eating.
Time passed painfully slow. Zoya had no idea what he was thinking. Had she struck a nerve?
He drank some water, then finally broke his silence by saying, “I wasn’t trying to impress you. I was just showing you where I live. And I’m in no way perfect, Zoya. I have problems just like the next person. Just like you.”
Zoya nodded, careful not to add anything she deemed destructive to the conversation.
“The other day, when I said your relationship with your father was affecting your relationship with people, I was saying it because not only does the father sets the bar on what kind of men you’ll
date but also how well you get along with people.”
“How would you know that?” she asked.
“Because of my father,” Tennyson said tapping his hands on the table. “He wasn’t around either. It’s caused certain characteristics in me that I’m not proud of.”
“For instance?”
“The statistics are there. Men who grow up without fathers have emotional issues. Problems dealing with stress resulting in high anxiety. Issues bonding with their own children and there’s always the belief that something’s wrong with them because their father didn’t love them enough to stick around.”
“Tennyson?”
“Yes?” he asked, looking up at her over his glass.
“Don’t give me statistics. Just tell me from your soul.”
An uncomfortable smile spread across his lips. “I’d be better off letting you believe I’m perfect, so we’ll stick with that for now.”
Zoya let disappointment roll off her back because, truthfully, Tennyson didn’t owe her any explanations about his personal life. That being the case why was he so eager to dissect and analyze hers?
Zoya glanced at her watch, then back at him. “I think I should get going now.”
He looked at her briefly and then glanced at his watch. It was still early, but he knew why she was ready to go. Only thing is, he wasn’t ready for her to go. Still, he couldn’t keep her here against her will. All she had to do was call Harding, and it was a wrap.
“Are you sure you’re ready to go?” he asked. “It’s still early.”
“Yes, but I have a long day ahead of me so...” Zoya stood up. “Let me clean up first. I don’t want to leave you with all this mess.”
She proceeded to put away the condiments, extra plates, knives and anything else on the table. She rinsed out a dishcloth and wiped down the counters all while Tennyson observed.
“Okay. I’m ready.”
Tennyson stood up, took his keys from the counter and followed her to the door.
* * *
Zoya was intentionally quiet in the car. After all, what could she say to him when he didn’t want to talk about anything. She wasn’t too thrilled with small talk, especially from a man she actually wanted to know. A man she gave the time of day when most of the time, this never happened. She wanted to know the man behind the expensive suits and the three-hundred-thousand-dollar house. It wasn’t looking too promising that that man would appear.
