37. Clarissa

“I’m fine, Mom, really,”I say, walking to the corner of the suite.

“It’s just so sudden, Clarissa. Leaving the country like this.”

I bite my lip and walk over to the balcony. The buildings are old but still beautiful.

“Mom, I’m fine. I just needed a change. With the engagement being called off and dad—” I pause.

My dad is doing so much better, but he’s not that far removed from surgery. Nothing lights a fire under your ass like the realization of your mortality. The understanding that it really could happen at any moment. The circumstances of my ended engagement made it that much more vital that I take this leap. That I jump with both eyes closed and hope for the best. Luckily for me, Rissa always has my back, and Tyson is down for the ride.

“I know, Clarissa,” my mom says with a weary breath.

“Are you getting rest, Mom? I don’t want you worrying or wearing yourself thin.”

My mom has been going nonstop, even with my dad cleared to be on track for a full recovery. I’ve noticed the ways she lingers around him, as if he might fall over again. I make a note to give her a break when I get back, maybe send her to a spa for the afternoon or take her to the movies—something where she can relax and not worry about my dad.

“I am.”

“Mom.”

“Okay, not yet, but I will. Your father has therapy later, and I plan on getting some reading done.”

I bite my lip as I nod. “That sounds great.”

We talk for a few more minutes, and she promises again to take some time for herself. After we say goodbye, I stay by the balcony and focus on the cars.

“Issa.” I’ll never get fully used to Tyson’s voice and that accent. Even after all this time, it still sends a shiver down my spine.

I turn to him as he stuffs something in his pocket and looks at me with the most intense stare.

It’s a stare that sends flutters to my core, and I look at my feet.

“What’s wrong?”

I tilt my head and shrug. He doesn’t speak, but he’s stalking my way. That focus should scare me. Not with true fear. I know he would never hurt me or do anything to cause me pain.

But I’m fresh off a broken engagement with a man I was with for two years. How am I in a room with a man who stares at me like that? Like I’m the most beautiful thing he’s encountered. Like I’m his everything.

Before long, he’s standing in front of me, and he folds his arms across his chest.

“Issa.”

“I’m worried about my mom. She’s stressed, and I can hear the worry in her voice.”

“Baby,” he says, pulling me to him. “I’m sorry she’s dealing with that. I have an idea, though.”

I pull back and look into his eyes. “What?”

“You know, with my firm, I work with all kinds of businesses. One of my clients has a mobile spa. She travels with a staff, and they do manicures, pedicures, massages, facials, the whole nine. In my business, all kinds of connections are made. PR isn’t just for troubled reputations and problematic celebrities. I cultivate access and connections for influencers and businesses looking to expand too.”

“Wow, really?”

“Absolutely. I can see the stress on your face.”

I bury my face in his chest, and the level of comfort I feel is jarring. We’ve fallen into that rhythm again, moving in sync like we’ve been together for years.

“Here, I’ll call,” he says and pulls out his phone. He doesn’t release me, though, as he makes arrangements with his assistant to get everything set up the following day.

“Are you real?”

“All flesh and bone over here, baby.” He winks and pulls away from me. “I have some spots I want to show you. Feel like sightseeing with me?”

I hum and act like I’m thinking. He narrows his eyes.

“Okay, yes, I’d like that.”

I could get used to this. I excuse myself to the bathroom to freshen up before we go. The humidity is doing wonders for my curls. I like it when my coils expand and defy gravity, and they are currently going wild. I fluff and spread my hair until I get it to the full shape I want, then reapply my lip gloss and use my finger to pat under my eyes. My makeup is still in my luggage, so it does nothing to brighten up my eyes. Since it was a travel day, I went for a neutral, minimal look.

I step out of the bathroom, and Tyson turns at the noise. I squint my eyes and walk slower. “What are you doing?”

“You’ll find out soon enough, but right now, we see the sights. I know just the place to take you.”

I smile because damn, he’s smooth. I’m no longer concerned with what he was putting under the pillow. My focus is seeing London.

“It was your face, though. You were so scared!” Tyson laughs, and I cross my arms over my chest.

It’s not my fault; if I’m not supposed to touch the artifacts, they should have bigger signs. Technically, it doesn’t belong to them anyway, so I can’t be responsible.

“Aww, baby, come here.”

Tyson turns from the front door of our suite and pulls me to his chest. I hesitate, but only for a second. Once I’m cocooned in his cologne, I melt under the direct contact. His laughing at me for almost being banned from the British Museum drifts away.

“This doesn’t make sense,” I say, but my voice is muffled in his chest.

“What?”

I pull back to stare into those dark eyes, and my god, it’s almost too much.

“This doesn’t make sense.”

He nods as though he understands even though I gave no context and switched subjects. He pulls me to the chaise lounge and has a seat, taking me with him and positioning me on his lap, his face to my back.

“I see…we need to have a conversation.”

“Really?”

He glides his hands over my waist and hips, and I sink into him.

“Yep. You’re worried we’re moving too fast. That I might break your heart, or possibly you could break mine. You’re worried about how it looks that you’ve forgotten a man you were with for two years after one afternoon in London with me.”

I lower my head because his words ring true.

“Wow, I am.”

“Here’s my take, and be very clear, I’m biased as fuck when it comes to you.” He grips me tighter and presses his face to my back. “You’re a puzzle piece that was floating around. You tried to fit with the curves of another piece, but it wasn’t your match. It was a tight fit, but you stayed because that was the closest to you.”

I hum and listen while he softly caresses my hips.

“Then I showed up. This sexy puzzle piece, and like a magnet, I was drawn to you.”

I laugh at his description of sexy, and he squeezes me before continuing. “How could this be? You already had your puzzle piece—unless you didn’t. What if we were the actual match and the other piece never belonged to you?”

He takes my hand and plays with my fingers.

“My puzzle piece, huh?” I say, feeling like, for the first time, everything makes sense. I’m fighting public opinion about my feelings for Tyson. I’ll get lost in happiness, and then the realization of who I’m with hits me, and I feel like garbage.

“I’ll save you some worry. It’s fucked up, what I did by pursuing you when you weren’t free to be pursued. But the thing is,” he says, his focus now on my ring finger, “I don’t give a damn. You’re my piece and my peace. I did a shit job of fighting it anyway.” I feel his shoulders shrug against my back.

“But—”

“No buts. Feeling bad won’t change it, Issa. I want you to let go with me. Take this week with just me and you.”

The sound of his deep voice with that slight accent lulls me to lean back more, and I close my eyes.

“Why don’t we order room service and get comfortable to stay in?” Tyson says with his chin now propped on my shoulder.

“That sounds amazing, actually. I’m still sticky from our walk.”

“Perfect. I’ll order a few things for us to try, and you can take a shower.”

I stand and move about, getting clothes as Tyson reviews the menu before calling downstairs.

The shower is perfect. Twenty minutes later, I’m stepping out and looking for a towel. When I unfold it, a piece of paper falls. I narrow my eyes and squat to pick it up.

Neat handwriting is scribbled on a note with the hotel logo in the background.

Have I ever told you that you were my sun? That my chest whirls and dips when I feel your rays against my lips. How did you become the sun? Is it your essence or your hips? All I know is I’d move mountains for just a glimpse. Early morning or late at night, your rays shine at all times. Have I ever told you that you are my sun?

- Your peace

My damp fingers are softening the paper, so I quickly dry them and read the note again. This must have been what he was doing when I was on the phone. I wasn’t paying attention, but he was darting all around the room. Tyson is a writer at heart. I remember the stories of his poetry in college. Tears well in my eyes, and I look up at my reflection—a blurred haze from a hot shower. I dry off and change, almost running with my note out the door.

Tyson is lying back on the chaise lounge with his hands behind his head and his eyes closed. His legs are crossed at the ankles, and I stop short with the note clutched in my hand.

I smile and walk closer, jumping on the inside at the opportunity to stare at him uninterrupted. Whenever I try, I find, in most cases, his dark eyes are already on me.

His beard is thick and perfectly outlined around his lips. I hold out my hand but hesitate and drop it to my side.

“You can touch me.”

His deep voice startles me, and I jump. My heart is pounding as I hold my chest.

“Tyson, oh my gosh. I thought you were sleeping.”

He opens one eye with a smile. “Nope.”

I shake my head, and he sits up with his eyes darting to the paper in my hand.

“Your note is beautiful.”

He holds out his hands before speaking. “Come.”

I swear I’m in trouble. The way he commands my attention without much more than one word or my name is concerning, but only in the sense that I’m falling even harder for him. My heart is quickly becoming his possession, and I’m feeling less and less likely to stop it. I mull over his earlier words to let go with him.

I walk closer, and he sits up, spreading his legs and making space for me to stand there.

“I’m going to hop in the shower, and when I come back, I’m eating,” he says, pulling me closer by my hips.

“Shit, I can already taste it. I bet it’s so fucking good,” he whispers. “My mouth is salivating, Issa. I can’t wait.” He pulls back and winks at me, and I shiver. Damn, he’s smooth. His cologne is still rich, and those dark eyes trail up my face.

I nod but don’t speak, and soon, his husky laughter fills the room. He stands and kisses my neck, lingering before he pulls away and disappears into the bathroom. When he’s gone, I fan myself and try to calm down.