8. Clarissa

There’sa rampant chatter around that is silenced when I’m placed in the back seat. Tyree or not-Tyree gets in the driver’s seat. He pauses for a second before I catch him darting his eyes at me through the rearview mirror.

My skin prickles, and I squirm in my seat. I get nervous every time I get caught in his gaze, like I’m in the crosshairs. I don’t know why, but there’s a sense of peace being in his orbit. It’s like he’s breathing easier at seeing me tucked in the back seat. He doesn’t speak, and the more time passes, the more I wonder if this is just a fever dream.

“I hate to burst your bubble, but I’m real. Flesh and blood. Bones and nerves,” he says.

Did I say that out loud?

“You did,” he answers, and I press my fingers to my cheeks.

What is wrong with me?

“Nothing is wrong with you. You’re perfect,” he says in that voice. Our eyes connect through the mirror, and he smiles. It’s a slow smile at first, like a toe in the water checking the temperature before it blooms into a wide, bold display that makes my heart skip a beat.

I swallow and break the connection, turning my head to the road as cars pass in a blur. When we make it home, Rissa and my parents are right behind me. They must have gotten everyone else situated because I’m not sure where they went.

I’m ushered to the apartment, and every time I look at Tyree…not-Tyree… I close my eyes.

“What time is your flight?” Dad asks from the kitchen. I furrow my brows and turn to Rissa.

“Right, I didn’t get a chance to mention. With everything being rearranged at the last minute, we couldn’t get a change for the trip. So, it’s still scheduled.”

“What? I thought everything was pushed back,” I say, sitting up on the couch and feeling the burn in my cheeks. She comes up to me at that slow pace like she’s dealing with a wild animal again, pulling my wrist until I’m standing.

She guides us to the back bedroom, and I keep catching glances of not-Tyree giving me all his attention as though I’m the most important thing in the world. He never says it, but I can feel it in my bones. I’m almost overwhelmed with the rush of love pouring off him.

“It’s okay. It’s okay. Here’s what we’re going to do. I’ll handle all your packing. You’ve already taken time off from work, and everything is paid for,” she says, moving to my closet and turning on the light. “I’m sure plenty of people have taken a honeymoon before the wedding.”

“Rissa,” I say, and the thickness of her name chokes me before I can get the words out.

She drops everything and runs to my side, hugging me to her. Along the edges of the door frame, I connect with dark eyes, and I gasp. She doesn’t react, and I remain frozen in place. Not-Tyree stares at me, not blinking with a focus I’m not sure I’ve ever witnessed. He licks his lips and leans his head to the side. I feel unbalanced as I stare into this stranger’s eyes. There’s a command not to look away. I want to look away, but I stay put as Rissa talks to me lowly about what she’s going to pack.

I close my eyes and take a breath, and when I reopen them, he’s gone. A rush of adrenaline fills my chest, and I sit down on my bed. “Rissa, I don’t know.”

“What’s there not to know? You’ll go, and it’ll be fine.”

The next few hours are a blur. My clothes are changed, and we’re ushered out of the apartment in a frenzy. I keep sneaking peaks at not-Tyree, but every attempt is met with those dark eyes. The speakers announce the next gate boarding, and I can’t get my nerves under control. As we travel from gate to gate to our destination, my nerves remain in a frenzy. They stay in a frenzy as we ride to our hotel.

We got a great deal on an all-inclusive resort, and as the click of the door sounds in the room, I swallow hard.

“Are you hungry? We’ve been traveling all day.” His voice startles me even though it’s only us in the room.

“A sandwich, I guess.”

He nods while taking a seat on the bed and calling downstairs. As he’s ordering and asking questions about the food, he says something that gives me pause. “No orange juice. She doesn’t like oranges. Yes, apple juice is fine.” He completes the order and hangs up, but I’m still looking at him.

“You know I don’t like oranges?”

“Of course, I do.” His tone is so matter-of-fact and direct that I’m rooted in place.

I narrow my eyes, and he tilts his head, still sitting on the bed. “Come here, Issa,” he says, the accent really showing up in the ‘a’ sound of my name.

“You keep calling me that.”

“I always call you that,” he says, motioning for me to come to him. My feet are moving before I can stop them, and I’m standing in front of him. He lifts his left hand to cup my cheek and caress my jaw with his thumb. “Can I get you anything? I can run you a bath before the food gets here.” The urge to sink into his touch lures me closer, but I stand straighter.

I clear my throat and shake my head. “I think I’ll just take a quick shower.”

He pulls my hands down and aligns our fingers. He never says a word, just presses our hands from palms to fingertips. His are almost twice the size of mine. The warmth of his skin sinks into me, and I’m transfixed. After a few minutes, he pauses his motion and smiles.

“You go on and take a shower, and I’ll let everyone know we made it safe.” I nod and move to get my pajamas and go to the bathroom.

As I stare at my reflection, I pinch my arm, but nothing changes. The hotel’s logo is displayed perfectly with palm trees in the backdrop adorning the little soap and shampoo bottles next to the sink.

This is wild.

I remove my clothes and step under the water. I flip the day over and over in my head, still trying to make sense of what is happening. I finish in the shower and get changed into my favorite pajamas, a white tank top with matching shorts.

Cold air hits my skin once the door is opened, and a billow of steam escapes from my back. The shower did very little to clear my mind. I turn the corner, and sitting in the same position I left him in is not-Tyree. God, I don’t know what to call him. Everyone else calls him Tyree, and he answers to that name, but it doesn’t feel right.

A tray is pulled to the side table, a silver cloche covering our food.

“You didn’t have to wait for me.”

He stands and pulls me forward when I’m within arm’s reach.

“I didn’t mind. Here, have a seat.”

He guides me to a chair before sitting across from me. He lifts the cloche in a dramatic show, and I laugh for the first time today. “There’s my girl. I missed your smile.”

As his words sink in, my smile drops, and I focus on my fingers in my lap. Nothing I do seems to upset him, though, because he adjusts our plates and smiles at me like it’s the most natural thing in the world. My sandwich is not just a normal sandwich. It’s shredded pork with a Caribbean blend of spices, vegetables, and plantains as the bread. I never knew a sandwich could be so good. He nods when he catches my eyes, and I swallow the bite as I chew slower.

“Issa, baby. How are you feeling? Be honest. Every time I look at you, your eyes are darting in the other direction. You’re constantly squeezing your hands together, which you only do when you’re nervous.”

If it were possible, I’d have worn-out spots between my thumb and index finger with the way I press and squeeze the area during any type of stress. As his words sink in, I stop moving my hands, finding I’m in the exact position he described. His eyes scan me, and he never seems to miss a beat, catching every blink and twist I make.

I swallow before I say, “I’m just—wrapping my mind around some things.”

He nods while placing the cloche over his half-eaten sandwich and stands.

“Perfectly understandable.”

He pulls me from my seat and guides me to the bed.

“The day has been long, and while I could watch you simply exist for an infinite amount of time, I think you should rest.” His voice is smooth but thick on certain syllables with that accent. “Is it okay if I lay with you?”

He’s looking down at me, and I can’t garner the will to say no, so I nod wordlessly as he smiles.

He tugs back the blankets and gets in first. There’s an open space in front of him, and he holds out his arms. I hesitate for a second but soon take a seat and lie down. He pulls the blanket over us, and I’m cocooned in his warmth.

“God, I’ve been waiting for this. How do you feel so good? We fit so perfectly, Issa.” His voice is husky in my ears, and I melt into his chest. I don’t verbalize it, but his words ring true. We do fit perfectly. He rubs my arms, and a shiver shoots down my spine.

He kisses my neck, and it’s so sweet I could cry. He hums in satisfaction, and I sink deeper into the mattress. One hand glides down my hip, and my pulse rockets higher before I swallow hard. There’s another kiss on my neck, and my insides ooze. I’m engulfed in a spicy musk that, if I smelt at any other time, would garner questions about the maker.

But I don’t ask what he’s wearing or why it’s different from his usual fragrance. I don’t ask why his thumb has a callus I’ve never felt sliding over my hip. And I don’t ask why his lips soothe my soul. Something deep and unexplainable unfurls in my core, and I sigh.

For what feels like the first time, I relax and stop questioning the moment.

“Sweet dreams, Issa,” he whispers in my ear, and tears spring into my eyes. I feel his words as though they’ve been written in my DNA.

Another peck to the shoulder, and he releases a breath full of contentment and something I can’t put my finger on.

What the hell?