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Chapter 14

Fourteen

Q ueenie

Cillian brothers sure did have an appetite. I'd have to make a note of making twice the amount of food if they were going to stop by every morning. Luckily, they left me something to myself but I was going to have to get some real food in my stomach soon.

I didn't know when to expect him, but I wanted to plan what I'd cook for dinner before he came home but with a quick tour of the kitchen, anything and everything was overwhelmingly Irish. I made a quick mental note that I'd have to do more of the grocery store shopping, especially if I wanted familiar tastes and comfort. I didn't mind learning how to make a few things in his culture, he was caring and generous, and I was ashamed to admit, I'd do anything to make him happy.

But I had my own upbringing, my own food and culture I didn't want to lose just because my last name was now Sullivan. As if anticipating my needs, the phone rang, and because I didn't even know our phone number, I predicted it to be Cillian calling. Confused to where it was situated, I followed the ringing until I found the phone's location, bringing it to my ear to greet the person on the other side.

"Hello."

"Why'd you take so long to answer? I figured something happened to you," he fumed, his anger and concern misplaced.

"I didn't know where the ringing was coming from." A brief silence echoed on his end, but the sound of my voice seemed to ease his frustration.

"Thank you for making the sandwich, baby. I know we ain't been together long, but you're always doing something nice for me. I promise to reciprocate when I can. I've been thinking about that all day. It's the only thing keeping me going." Now that I had his attention, it seemed like the perfect time to cash in on that reciprocity.

"Maybe there's one way you can start with."

"What do you mean?"

"Before I ask, just know that I'm not complaining. It's just everything in your cabinets, everything in the refrigerator seems to be Irish food."

"Well love, I know it may not look like it in the dark but I am actually Irish." I rolled my eyes.

"I know, Cillian, but don't you want dinner when you come home?"

"It's a nice thought, sweetheart but I don't expect it. However, I'd be lying if I said I didn't fancy a lass who could cook, and now that I think about it, that would be sort of grand."

"Well, the thing is, I don't know what half this stuff is. You have different names for things and it's confusing to me. I don't know any of these Irish brands, I only know how to cook Black food."

"Well I'm not picky. Anything you make me, I'll eat. But if what you're telling me is what you want to make, you don't have the things you need, that's an easy fix. Tell me what you need and I'll send my brother over to bring it to you. We're about to leave for to his boxing studio." Without thinking I started listing off the things I needed without giving him time to process it.

"I need macaroni, two blocks of cheddar, brown sugar, and?—"

"Slow down woman, let me get a pen and paper."

"Let me know when you're ready," I said, twirling the cord of the phone between my fingertips.

"Okay, go on."

"Red wine vinegar, a bottle of Texas Pete if you can find it."

"Shit, give me a minute." The sound of his voice became muffled, or perhaps he took the phone away from his mouth, under a whisper he muttered a question to the person he was with.

"Bell, do you have a clue on what a Texas Pete is?" he asked, before confirming with me my request was possible, so long as I had patience.

"I had a question about something else, too."

"Oh?" I formed as a question.

"Hypothetically speaking, say I wanted to buy flowers for a pretty girl. Which ones would you recommend I surprise her with?" From the moment we started talking, I was grateful we weren't face to face. He'd never let me live down the smile he put on my face.

"Well, you didn't hear this from me, but the only flowers worth surprising a pretty girl with would be peonies," I toyed.

"Any color?"

"Pink or coral."

"Well, I don't know what coral is but pink is a color that suits you."

"Oh, before I forget to ask, I could really use a sewing machine."

"What for?"

"Well, I can't keep using your dress shirts all the time. And I only have the suitcase of clothes my papa sent me. Mistakes happen. Things break. I'd like to have something to mend things when they happen."

"What do you need clothes for?" He flirted, and I swear, he was smiling wide on the other end. "All the things I like doing to you leaves them on the floor and tore up anyway," he teased.

"Baby, I know. I just want to look well put together."

"Listen, if you need clothes, I'll take you proper shopping the start of the weekend. You can buy anything you want."

"Okay."

"Is that okay, darling?" he asked to reconfirm.

"It is. Can't wait!"

"Alright, well, I was just checking on you. My day's going to be long and I could use your company to brighten up my day. Would you please wait up for me, darling? It would mean so much to me if you did."

"Cillian, I already promised I would."

"Yeah well, I'm not too proud to beg my woman. I fucking miss you, so please be awake," he ended, wishing me goodbye as I decided it was time to take a shower.

***

"Last one, I swear it," Bellamy laid the paper bag on the counter, accounting for everything Cillian had scribbled on the list.

"Thank you, Bellamy. I appreciate you taking time out your day to do this for me.

"Listen, we're family now. You need something, just ask. And this ain't just limited to me. The others, too. Sullivan's, we take care of each other. I assume Cillian's treating you okay?" He smiled, a bashful smile forming on my face.

"I know that look. Everything must be going grand . I think the two of you look grand together. I'm glad you stuck with your gut and waited until there was one of us that was better suited for you. I'm sure I could've made you happy but you're good for Cilly. I've never seen him so happy to want to be home." He leaned into hug me, whispering for me to save him a plate since it's been a long time since he had soul food. At least there was one person in this family I didn't have to explain Black stuff to.

I was going to surprise Cillian with a traditional Southern meal and because it was going to be a late night, I set my timer to start at ten, so it'd be hot and fresh when he came through the door.

I made a note to do laundry as I had nothing racy or tantalizing to wear, so I settled on another one of his dress shirts, patiently waiting until my alarm went off, and overboard I went with my cooking. I learned to cook from my mama, who learned to cook from hers, who learned to cook from hers, who did everything by the looks of things. The one thing I knew my papa was going to miss about me was my cooking, because while I learned from my mama, I always put in that extra effort when it came to presentation. I learned then that men were more visual.

Everything was coming around nicely but it worried me when I put the lid on the last side, and he still hadn't walked in yet.

He said he'd be late but I didn't think he'd be this late. Were late nights going to be the norm for us? I wondered, my thoughts shifting back to our first night together, the time he slipped out on me.

What if walked through the door clothes bloodied, like last time? Did I really want to be up to find out? I wanted to see him and he seemed eager for me to wait up, but I was going to need something to keep me from sleeping.

Lying in this bed comfortable was not helping. Turning to the nightstand, I pulled out a small journal, scribbling down whatever came to me. I never thought it safe to keep a diary, but with all these new things on the horizon, perhaps it wouldn't hurt to document my thoughts sometimes. Anything to keep me from falling asleep.

I wrote down what it felt like to have Cillian taste me for the first time. I don't know why my mind went straight to that but for some reason, it felt worthy of words. I articulated the wonder in his eyes when I caught him looking at me in my sleep.

Lastly, I captured the emotions I felt when I accepted his care and affection. Sure, we started off wrong but it was making itself right, the more time we spent together. Before I knew it, I'd filled up the pages, my thoughts and wishes keeping me alert for a whole extra hour. This time the clock read 12:13 and against my better judgement, I decided to opt for a quick nap, hoping it with give me the energy I needed to enjoy his presence.

Resting my eyes however, had been a huge mistake as before I knew it I had drifted off to lala land regretfully, breaking my earlier promise.

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