Page 68 of His to Love
Yours…always,
Blackbird
The immature smiley face after his equally immature nickname made me laugh. Even more immaturely, I pressed the note to my chest, clasping it with both hands. And like I did in high school, I sighed.
Because he loved me. His words might confuse me sometimes, but it was the actions that made the man.
Last night, Tyson showed me exactly the kind of man he was, and how he felt about me, barely saying a word.
It was enough for me.
With renewed confidence in my relationship, and knowing these next two days at work were going to be crazy with getting ready for Saturday night’s benefit, I slid out from beneath the warmth of the hotel’s bedsheets and showered.
The workday flew by. Simone and I spent the morning ensuring everything was now set to go for Saturday, confirming last minute RSVPs and changing the seating arrangements accordingly. I grimaced as I set my own name next to Malik’s at the head table. We’d be dining with the CEO of Ford, the president of Detroit’s largest bank, and two other CEOs of smaller companies, along with each of their wives or mistresses. My skin went cold just thinking about the influence Malik would have over these men, the shady dealings he probably already had with them. Being paraded around on his arm and joining him at dinner, like I was someone important to him, was the last way I wanted to spend Saturday evening.
We took a break for a Caesar salad lunch, eaten at the conference table in Simone’s office, but my stomach swirled with the thought of what lay ahead of me. I didn’t know why I thought it would be so easy to step out from under my father’s rule when I returned home. Pure naiveté, probably, and the fact that I hadn’t spoken to him in ten years. I’d forgotten how determined and stubborn he truly could be.
I had a few other stores where I wanted to look for furniture, boutique type places with more unique pieces than the large, traditional box stores that took me out closer to Latham Hills. Then I needed to go back and spend more time with my mom.
I didn’t want to.
I didn’t want to have another meltdown like I did last night, when I fell into Tyson’s arms afterward.
After I purchased and scheduled delivery for the living room furniture, light teal–painted and distressed tables and a coordinating gray-blue bookshelf along with a rug with hints of salmon that tied the colors together, I figured there was no harm in stopping by Tyson’s office on my way back home.
Perhaps he could stop for a quick bite to eat. I wanted to see his smile and feel his touch before I spent the rest of the night in a home I despised while losing one of the few people I cared about in this world.
His grandfather’s firm was easy to find. It was a small, nondescript two-story building just off Main Street. Based on memory, I knew it was close enough for Tyson to walk to work if he wanted to, and it was just three or four blocks down from the Fireside Grill.
I pulled into the small office parking lot and noticed Tyson’s black truck.
Unbidden, my pulse began to flutter just knowing that he was there.
Something happened last night when Tyson wrapped me in his arms, carried me, and held me all night long. He changed from being someone I wanted…to someone I needed. His strength, knowing he was here for me, knowing he was only a phone call away, helped me to know that whatever was going to come my way soon, I could bear it with him by my side.
The outside doors of the building opened to an octagonal rotunda with a winding staircase directly in the middle. The building wasn’t large by any means, but it was full of bright sunshine coming from a skylight. After a quick scan of the directory inside the door, I headed to my right and found Tyson’s office on the main floor. I opened the door and was assaulted by a familiar scent that had nothing to do with Tyson.
When we dated when we were younger, I was invited to several gatherings at his family’s house for holiday dinners and special occasions. There was absolutely nothing that could ever make me forget the smell of his grandmother’s perfume. When I heard a feminine gasp come from my left, I already knew who I was going to see when I turned. I came face-to-face with a woman who had held me in her arms and pressed her lips to my cheeks many times.
“Blue?” Mary Anne, Tyson’s grandmother asked, even as she was already pushing away from her desk. “Good Lord, child! What on Earth are you doing here?”
Her smile spread wide as she moved toward me.
“Hello, Mary Anne,” I said, closing the distance between us. When I reached her, she gathered me in her arms and that same scent of her skin and hair assaulted my nose. I inhaled, breathing in the warmth and familiarity of the kind woman in front of me.
“I can’t believe you’re here,” she said, pulling back from me. “Tyson told me he’s seen you since he’s been back in town.”
I nodded and let go of her. “Yes, I was actually wondering if he’s in.”
A small frown made tiny lines pop up around her mouth. “He is. But unfortunately he’s in a meeting. Did he know you were coming?”
“No.” I shook my head and took the woman in. She’d definitely aged, and she had to be nearing seventy. Her hair was clearly dyed and she had a few more wrinkles, but she still looked incredible. I was certain it was because she had always taken care of herself by walking daily and playing in a ladies’ golf league. “This was more of a surprise visit.”
“Oh. I don’t know how long this meeting will take.”
“Do you mind if I wait?”
“Not at all.” She grinned and pulled me toward a small love seat in the reception area. “How about I go get us some coffee and we can catch up? Tyson’s told me some…about your mom…” She trailed off and frowned again. “I’m so sorry, honey.”
