41. Tyson

Although it wasan impromptu trip for me, this is by far the best vacation I’ve had. Last night in the rain was fucking wild. I’m not sure what came over me, but seeing her so happy just overwhelmed me, and I needed to show her what I was feeling.

She runs around the suite, picking up all her loose items and double-checking she’s not missing anything. I’ve become accustomed to leaving her notes in random places. There’s something about seeing her eyes light up when she spots the paper that twists my chest.

So this morning, when she finally found the last one, her excitement was palpable. It was under her pillow, and it’s probably my favorite poem I’ve written her to date.

I think the hardest part for me is trying to remember a time you didn’t make my insides quiver. It feels like I’ve always been here—like I’ve always loved you even when I shouldn’t have. Like you’ve always been my sun—a beacon to guide me.

It’s seeing your face when I wake up. Or maybe when we eat croissants on the balcony wrapped around each other for warmth. It could be our days filled with endless wandering through the streets of London. Or your essence running down my chin as you whisper my name like a promise.

I don’t remember what it was like before, but I’ll spend the rest of my days showing what it’s like after.

your peace

“Okay, I think that’s everything,” she says, searching between the table and under the chair. Her voice pulls me from my memories, and I smile.

“Cool.”

Since we’ll be at the airport and flying all day, we’re both dressed comfortably. I have on joggers and a t-shirt, and she’s in leggings and a hoodie. Her hair is pulled into a high puffball, and she’s only wearing lip gloss. I’ve come to the realization that my heart no longer belongs to me. It’s hers to have and protect.

“What? Why are you looking like that?” she asks, dusting off her top and looking down.

“You’re good. I was just thinking about this bad chick. She might be the one.”

She narrows her eyes and twists her lips to the side.

“I bet.” She laughs, and I join her.

Her phone rings, pulling her attention before she answers it. While she does that, I double-check the bathrooms and find her shower gel in the corner. I shake my head and place it in my bag. She catches my eye and makes a slight grimace between answering questions. Based on her replies, it sounds like Marissa.

I check the balcony and along the edge of the bed and confirm we’re good to go. Issa is going on and on about the food, and I smile.

The way she lights up when food is talked about is beautiful. Although I think everything she does is beautiful.

I pull her luggage with mine in a cart and stuff my wallet and key card in my pocket as she follows me. I listen as she giggles and talks about the perfect week. I have a permanent smile etched on my face. This girl really is it for me.

Sometimes, my mind does wonder about Tyree. It’s a weird place to be in because I’m so happy I want to call and tell him about this girl I fucking adore—and then I remember. He already knows the girl, and while he might not be aware of how our relationship has changed, I don’t think he would appreciate such a call.

I walk us to the front desk and begin to check out. It only takes a few minutes, and we’re out to catch a taxi.

I had her ticket changed so she is in first class with me, and we get to sit together. Somehow, as we go through security and find our terminal, as long as I’m with her, the experience is great. No amount of crowds or lines can bring my mood down.

After she talked to Marissa, her parents called, and as she filled them in on the PG activities, we sat next to each other and held hands.

“Sorry, they had so many questions,” she says after getting off the phone with them. I squeeze her hand and smile.

“They sounded excited.”

“They were. My mom didn’t want to hang up, but I told her the plane was boarding.”

People fill just about every space in the airport. I shake my head, and she laughs.

“I’m going to miss those dumplings, Tyson.”

“I told you, they’re the best.”

She goes into this monologue, and I swear, the way she describes them, I can taste it.

“Have you ever thought about pursuing food?” I ask.

She turns and dips her brows before saying, “What?”

“I mean, just now, you described that dumpling to a T, and I think your love of food is a gift. You’re so passionate. I work with influencers all the time, and your passion is tangible. You could start a food review channel or explore some type of food-related career.”

She leans back as if she’s thinking about it for the first time.

“Like me traveling to different restaurants, eating and reviewing them?”

“I mean, yeah. Don’t get me wrong, it won’t be easy to build up a following, but it seems worth a try while you figure out your next career move. I know Marissa has you working as her assistant, so I’m not sure of your schedule, but I could help you get things set up. Work on a business model and set clear goals. If you want—no pressure if you’re not interested.”

She squeezes my hand and leans on my shoulder. “What did I do to deserve you?”

I inhale her perfume and look down at her. “Ditto.”

Our flight was cool since we slept the entire way. Jet lag is probably going to kick our ass over the next few days. Once we exited the plane and got our luggage, I picked up my car and prepared to drive home. I say home because I assume she’s coming to my house instead of Marissa’s.

“Are you taking me to Rissa’s?”

“I wasn’t. I figured you’d come to my house,” I say, turning from traffic to her.

“You figured correctly. I love your house, but what do you have to eat?”

I scratch my beard and bite my lip. “Actually, not much.”

“Perfect because I was thinking we could stop by that fusion place. I’m craving those jerk egg rolls so bad,” she whines, and I smile.

“Oh yeah. If he’s there, I’m sure I can convince him to make us some special. Damn, those were good.”

The last time we were there, it was for a wedding menu tasting, but I don’t dwell on that as I speed down the road. We talk some, but for the most part, we sit in silence. The low buzz of traffic and the radio are the only noise.

Twenty minutes later, we arrive at the restaurant.

“Oh, this is going to be so good,” Issa says as she unbuckles her seatbelt, and we get out.

I clap my hands together and walk to her side. “I’m ready,” I say, leaning down to crowd her space.

I take her hip in one hand and press myself against her. She giggles, and my chest spreads open like cold butter on a hot biscuit.

“Hey,” I whisper before I kiss her neck.

“Hey.” She mimics my relaxed tone, and I move to her mouth.

“Why is kissing you my favorite thing?” I say over her lips. I deepen the kiss, and she moans.

I scrape my nails along her hip and dip under her hoodie. I like feeling her skin as I kiss her; I always find myself touching or caressing some part of her.

“Fuck!” I whisper over her lips. My heart is pounding out of my chest, and my gut rolls under the direct feel of her in my arms.

“We should go before I forget we’re outside.”

She laughs, but I’m serious.

“Tyson, you’re dangerous. I’m really in the parking lot, ready to risk it all.”

I laugh and pull her to the building. This place is not a populated area for food, at least. There’s plenty of traffic and businesses around, but not a ton of restaurants.

I open the door and hold it so Issa can walk in. The buzz of the crowd is present but not distracting.

“Welcome to Sammie’s. Table for two?” the hostess asks, and I step up to speak.

“Actually, I was hoping Sammie was in. I haven’t seen him in a while,” I say in a way that sounds like we’re old friends.

“Absolutely, let me call him back.”

She picks up the phone and dials a number, talking lowly and turning her head. “I’m sorry, your name, sir?”

“Tyson.”

She moves back to say my name and her posture changes. Where she was hunched over and unsure before now, she’s nodding and seems relaxed.

She turns to me with a smile, saying, “He’ll be right out.”

I say thank you and pull Issa to the side so other customers can be assisted.

On the bench, I sit and place Issa on my lap. She’s used to the way we sit now. I wrap my arms around her waist and tuck my face into her back, not directly since I want to be able to see my surroundings. Placing my cheek flat, I position us so my blind spot is covered. Not that I expect anything to happen; I just don’t like the idea of someone sneaking up on me. The decision to sit like this will prove to be valuable.

I see the moment he clocks me, and I swallow hard, not because I’m embarrassed or scared of being seen. I love Issa with my entire being, and no one could ever make it a bad thing.

But as he stands from his table, causing his chair to fall to the ground, I understand what this is about to be. I pat Issa’s leg, but she doesn’t recognize the urgency. She’s still in the bubble we’ve been in for over a week.

“But your leg is so comfortable. I don’t want to move,” she whines, and I pat her again. My eyes are locked on his, and the rage in his features is clear.

Damn, I don’t want to fuck up this restaurant, but I’m not about to let him beat my ass, so if this is the place, this is the place.

“Babe, get up now.” My voice is stern, and I shift her to stand.

She’s turning in confusion, but I don’t have time to waste.

“Clarissa!”

Her name is called from across the restaurant mere seconds before Tyree is charging our way.