I was beyond ready to leave by the time the dinner rush at Franklin’s started. Normally I stayed for the beginning of it, but accounting had actually taken all my energy today, and I was looking forward to going home, grabbing a bite to eat, and then passing out on the couch until DeShawn returned.
That thought brought me up short. In the past, I’d walk Bruno, grab myself something to eat, and quite frankly, go upstairs. The only noise in my house past seven thirty or eight? Was Bruno, walking up and down the stairs, doing whatever it is dogs do when left to their own devices. But now, I had a reason to try to stay awake, someone I wanted to see when he walked in. I smiled at the thought, then shook my head to clear it.
I parked in the garage and frowned. DeShawn’s car was here, which was odd because he was usually at work by this time. My heartbeat increasing a fraction, I walked in to find him and the dogs passed out on the couch, the same way I’d planned to be. God, he was beautiful like this. The stress of being the big man on campus had fallen away, the furrows between his brows softening, those faint lines around his eyes relaxing in sleep. He’d always been lovely, but right now, like this? Absolutely stunning.
I knelt next to him and ran a hand over his face, then leaned forward to kiss him. “Hey, sleepyhead.”
He hummed, a slow grin spreading, then opened his eyes. “Hey there.”
I smiled. “What are you doing here?”
DeShawn rolled his eyes. “I went in early, and Mondays are our slowest night. Maribel told me to come home, and here I am.”
The word home made my heart pitter-patter in contentment. “I’m glad.” I swallowed the I miss you that wanted to come out, straightened and stretched my back, because being too long in the crouched position wasn’t good for me anymore. “You rest, and I’ll walk the dogs.”
“I can come with you.”
“No.” I shook my head and pointed to the staircase. “You go on, take a hot shower, then climb in the bed and relax. I’ll whip something up when I get back and feed you.”
He sat up and swung his legs off the couch. “You’re going to feed me in bed?”
“I damn sure am. Now get.”
DeShawn stood, squeezed my hip, and pressed in for a kiss. He didn’t say anything, just walked over to the boys and crouched down. “You guys be good with Malik, okay?”
Corey woofed softly, like he understood exactly what DeShawn was saying, while Bruno just reveled in being petted. DeShawn leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to the side of my mouth, then walked past and darted up the stairs.
I grabbed a yogurt out the fridge and scarfed it down, then leashed up the boys and headed out. I needed to talk to someone.
I dialed Grandma, hoping she was awake and feeling up to talking, and was lucky she answered on the first ring. “It’s mighty early for you to be calling. Tell me my grandson isn’t breaking some new arbitrary rule.”
I snorted. “We’re past that, but D taking the night walks has thrown my schedule. What makes you think I’m not calling just to hear your lovely voice?”
“Because you know better than to call at this time for that.”
I couldn’t even muster up a retort. “I’m calling because you were right.”
“Well, that’s not surprising. What exactly am I right about this time?”
I laughed, pausing when Corey stopped to do his business on a patch of grass. “I want him back,” I said simply.
“It’s about time. What finally gave it away?”
I laughed. “I came home, ready to eat, crash on the couch, and wait for DeShawn to get off.” I ran a hand over my face and let it fall, even though she couldn’t see me, and the boys were anxious to get going again. “That was my first clue, that I wanted to stay up for him.”
“That’s a pretty good one.”
“And then I come home and he’s there.”
“He’s there? Not at work?”
“Took the night off. Was there, sleeping on the couch, waiting for me.”
“You two have always been disgustingly romantic.”
I couldn’t even argue with her. It was romantic, that we were on the same wavelength, the same page, without ever saying the words. Our relationship had begun that way, us reading each other’s body language and cues and not talking about what we wanted until we’d already fallen in bed together and had stopped messing around with anyone else. In many ways, the exact same as what we were doing now.
“No lie, I really liked coming home and seeing him that way. Sprawled out on the couch, waking up happy to see me. It’s everything I never knew I wanted, what I didn’t know I was missing.”
Grandma laughed, and I frowned at the phone. “What’s so funny?”
“You say you never knew you wanted that, but I sure did. You bought that big old house when you moved home, like you were trying to prove something to somebody, and I told you then it was for him.”
Her words brought me to a complete standstill. “Say that again.”
“I don’t need to. You heard me, and you know I’m right. You fobbed me off, tried to play pretend that it was nothing but an old woman’s fantasies, and I let it go. DeShawn’s the one you’ve always wanted in this space, and now you have him. Now your vision of what home should be is complete, and it’s on you to make sure it stays that way.”
I blew out a noisy breath, then turned the dogs around and started our return. It’s not that what she said didn’t make sense. It’s that it made too much sense. Had I subconsciously been building a home for us, waiting for him to return to me? To touch me, kiss me, make love to me?
“You’re deep in thought. And I’m only awake because the meds hadn’t kicked in yet. I’m going back to sleep now.”
I laughed. “Sounds good. And Grandma?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks you, for being there for me.”
“Anything for my favorite grandson-in-law.”
I snorted. “I’m your only grandson-in-law.”
“Tomato tomah-to.” She hung up with a laugh, and I walked the boys back inside.
I got them situated with food and water, then busied myself in the kitchen. Part of me wanted to go upstairs and check on DeShawn, but I’d be loath to come back down here if I did that.
After looking at my fridge, I realized I wasn’t all that hungry. Right now, soup and sandwiches sounded amazing. I pulled out the ingredients and plugged in the panini press to heat up. I always kept the ingredients for broccoli cheese soup on hand, and normally kept broccoli and broth in the freezer. I pulled it out and got to work, grating cheeses while I waited for the broth to boil. I tossed the broccoli in just enough to thaw, then turned off the heat, added the cheese, cream, and spices. Two roast beef and caramelized red onion panini sandwiches later, I plated everything and headed up to my bedroom.
I paused at the door, and if I hadn’t been holding the increasingly heavy tray, I would’ve covered my mouth with my hands. DeShawn was asleep, his locs falling over his shoulders and down his chest, his eyes closed in that same quiet repose he’d been in on the couch. I moved in closer and set the tray on the nightstand next to him. Just like before, I ran the back of my hand over his cheek and waited until he opened his eyes.
“Hey, Sleeping Beauty. You up for some food?”
He blinked, then sniffed. “That broccoli cheddar?”
“Is there any other kind?”
His smile? The sweetest thing I’d seen in years. I waited for him to sit up, picked up the tray, and set it over his legs. “Broccoli cheddar soup and roast beef sandwiches.”
DeShawn hummed. “Dinner of champions.” I sat next to him, and we toasted our spoons together before digging in. He took a few bites and groaned. “This is amazing, Malik. I wasn’t super hungry and this hits the spot.”
“I’m glad,” I ground out. DeShawn looked so right in my bed, and Grandma’s words filtered back to me. We needed to stop bullshitting and decide if this reunion was real or not, if we wanted it to continue once the trial was over. But it wasn’t a conversation to be had now. Not when DeShawn was just waking up. Not when we were both tired, had worked all day, and needed the rest.
You’re full of shit. I ignored the voice in my head, even though it spoke truth. Every day was going to be some variation of this one, and we couldn’t wait forever to have this talk. But, as I looked over at DeShawn, his meal finished, his eyes starting to close again, I decided another day or two wouldn’t hurt.
I moved the tray to the nightstand again and literally helped tuck him in, then pressed a kiss to his forehead. “You get some good rest, okay, baby?”
He smiled. “Yes, hubby. I’ll get some good rest.”
He was asleep before I could process his words, and after staring at his figure again, I grabbed the tray and went downstairs.
I could wake up snuggled next to Malik every morning. He was warm beneath me, his arm holding me tight against him. Memories of how we used to start our mornings, with sex or blowjobs or just holding each other and quietly watching TV, ran through my head.
I nosed his jaw, pressing light kisses as I went. Malik stirred, groaned, and tightened his grip, then blinked open his eyes. “Good morning, husband.”
I closed my eyes. He’d said that every morning of our marriage, always reaffirming our connection. One of those things I’d missed without realizing it, and had given up hope of ever hearing again. I hadn’t even thought Malik remembered it.
Now, a jumble of words flew in my head, but nothing sounded quite right, so I stayed silent. I snaked my arm around his waist and squeezed, then smiled into his chest when Malik kissed my forehead. We lay like that, the only sounds the hum of the television and, eventually, Corey and Bruno’s claws on the floor.
“Guess we gotta get up,” Malik whispered.
“Don’t wanna.”
He laughed at my faux-petulance, just as I’d hoped. It’d been a running joke when we were younger. “Stay here. I’ve got this.”
I shook my head and threw the covers off me, grateful for the temperature control that kept the room from being frigid. “I bailed last night. Let’s do this.”
Malik climbed out the bed and yawned, and god, he was adorable. Which absolutely had to be the rose-tinted glasses of me being in love talking, because we were both objectively frumpy, in need of showers, and had morning breath. He grabbed a pair of track pants from the floor, and I followed suit, slipping my feet into a pair of sneakers.
The boys were waiting patiently in the foyer, tails and butts just wagging. We were heading out the door when I snagged his wrist.
“You okay?” Malik asked, the tiniest frown forming.
I nodded. “Yeah. I was just thinking, would you mind taking them again? I wanna cook for you, treat you the way you did me last night.”
He looked at me, something in his eyes softening. Almost like we were on the same page, and I wanted so much to believe it. But I needed some time alone with my thoughts, because I wanted more than anything to turn this playacting into something real.
Malik held me by the hem of my shirt and leaned in for a kiss. “We’ll be back soon.”
I smiled and waited by the front door until they were out of sight, and even that felt disgustingly domestic.
Alone, I ran to the kitchen and rummaged around for ingredients for bananas foster waffles. They were Malik’s favorite, and when we were together, he always kept them on hand. I doubted that had changed, and I was right. I set to work getting the meal together, wondering how to start the conversation.
Hey, so, despite the fact we haven’t talked about it at all, wanna make a go of it again?
How would you feel if I said I’m still in love with you and want you back?
So, it turns out Grandma had an ulterior motive to her will, which was getting us back together, and we wouldn’t want to disappoint her, now would we?
All those sounded trite, and the silence now was as overwhelming as it had previously been comforting. I found the remote and clicked on the TV, needing some background noise. And stared at myself on the screen. That would never not feel weird.
I vaguely remembered taping this episode for DCFoodie a few years ago. Sheesh. I’d become disenchanted with TV, even though Christopher was booking me left and right, and the weight of playing nice was starting to wear on me. What could I have possibly had to say? I turned the volume up.
“I’ve had to deal with a lot of loss, and I’ve made a lot of mistakes. I live with the regret of that every day, and I like to think it’s made me stronger.”
The host smiled. “Are there any things you’d do over?”
I’d looked away then, like my mind had gone deep into a flashback, before turning on that practiced grin of mine and pumping it up to full volume. “There are always things I’d do over. Make better decisions, maybe not as selfish ones. Tell the people I love that I loved them. Not let them go.”
Jesus Christ. Grandpa had just died when I’d given that interview, and I’d been open about that. Anyone listening would think it was about him, and in many ways, it was. But I could just have easily been talking about Malik, and in retrospect, I probably was. Come to think of it, that’s when Grandma would’ve gotten the notice that our case was closed for inactivity. Would I have done things differently had I known we were still married? I couldn’t say for sure, but I think I had a starting point for this conversation.
I got the boys’ dog food and water together, and just in time. The garage door opened, then Corey and Bruno trotted in, ready to eat now that they’d had their exercise. “You have a good walk?” I asked Malik as he trudged in after them.
“I just don’t understand how people have that much energy first thing in the morning.”
“Meet someone too exuberant for their own good while you were out?”
Malik got a glass of water from the fridge door and guzzled it before looking at me. “I was talking about the dogs.”
I fell out laughing, causing Bruno to half glance from his bowl. Corey was not so moved. Malik grinned and poured himself another, swallowing it down before setting the glass in the sink. He frowned and took in his surroundings, then glanced at me. “What is all this?”
I couldn’t help my smile. “What does it look like?”
“Bananas foster?” At my nod, he clasped his hands to his chest. “You dear man, you do love me.”
He stiffened immediately at the words, and even though my brain screamed out I do!, the words stuck in my throat. Did he mean it the way I meant it, or would he run away if I made his statement serious?
My phone rang then, breaking the...what? Increasingly awkward moment in the kitchen? We were like a reality show gone bad.
It was tempting to ignore the phone and be serious with him the way I’d planned. That was the whole reason I hadn’t gone on the walk with him, right?
The ringing stopped, and started again immediately. I snatched it up and my heart skipped. Because Christopher was the kind of guy who liked to talk in person. He only called if it was urgent. I winced, giving Malik an apologetic look, and accepted the call.
“Hello?”
“DeShawn, I have some amazing news!”
I had never in my life heard Christopher this excited about anything. Honestly, I didn’t know he had it in him. “What is it, Christopher?”
Malik approached from the kitchen island and laid a hand on my back. I let myself lean into him, his touch. Even if he hadn’t meant what he said, I needed to pretend, if only for a few moments.
“I just got off with a Perfect Palate rep.” I sucked in a breath. They were the station I’d met with early in my career that’d rebuffed my ideas. “They saw clips of you from the gala, and they loved it. They want to do a program special of prestigious and starred chefs doing a cook-off for a grand prize that goes to charity.”
That...actually sounded pretty cool. Malik must have heard enough through the phone to get the gist of it, because he gave me the biggest, cheesiest smile and two thumbs up. I smiled back at him and put the phone on speaker.
“And DeShawn, this is the kicker.” Whatever Christopher had just said, I’d totally missed. Oops. “There’s some serious, and I mean serious, interest in you spotlighting minority-owned restaurants. There’s a real market for it now, more than there was before.”
I’d ignore the reality of what it took to create such a market, because these were words I’d never thought I’d hear. My disenchantment with TV had started after the miserable pitch I’d made on this topic years ago. That executives were reaching out to me now, and actively wanted to pursue that kind of show? This was a bucket list item, the cherry on top of the sundae I’d always wanted to create.
“What do I need to do?” I was practically vibrating, the only thing keeping me grounded being Malik’s arm snaked around my waist. I could feel his smile against my cheek. He was really and truly excited for me.
“We’re shooting a pilot in New York in a few weeks. Can you make it?”
“Of course. Give me the time and date, and I’m there.”
“Will do, and DeShawn? Congratulations.”
Christopher hung up and Malik barely let me pocket the phone before turning me around and kissing me. His lips were insistent and I opened for him, gripping his shirt to try to get closer. He rocked into me, his dick hard and long inside his pants, and I knew exactly how I wanted to celebrate.
Of course, he pulled back as soon as I got my hand in position. “I’m so goddamn happy for you.”
I closed my eyes and touched my forehead to his. I felt the sincerity in his voice and thrilled in it. Because this opportunity? Wasn’t a me thing. It wouldn’t have happened had we not had to play house, had people not been so damn curious about our relationship.
Malik tugged me close, and for a few moments, we just stood like that. Corey pushed himself between us, determined to share in the hugging. My phone rang again and I fished it out. “Hey Christopher, what’s up?”
“They’ve scheduled the pilot date, apparently the only one that works for everyone’s schedule. It’s the eighteenth.”
Malik pulled away, and I opened my calendar app. “The eighteenth? That works. I’ll go up there a day or two in advance.” I needed to talk to Maribel, make sure she had everything in control while I was gone.
“Of course. Let me know what you need and I’m on it.”
We hung up and I fist-pumped the air, which earned me a laugh. But it was harsh, an almost strangled sound. Malik’s face had gone stony, far from the exuberance I expected.
“Malik, what is it? What’s wrong?”
“The eighteenth?”
“Yeah, what about it?”
“That’s the trial date.”