RAINED OUT BY MOSUNMOLA K. ROSE (KISS THE RAIN ANTHOLOGY)
Author’s Note
Dear Reader,
Thanks for purchasing this book. Happy reading! Kindly encourage me with a review.
Hugs, kisses, and lap dances. I wrote this book because sometimes reality is stranger than fiction. I wanted a story that resonates with the marathon nature of life. Many times, we get stumped at a roadblock and in our minds, it is the end. But is it ever really the end?
XOXO,
Content Warning
Read this First!
It’s nice to know you chose to read my books. I hope they will make you scream, laugh, fall in love, and sit in the fetal position but before you go further, this book contains scenes that might be triggering for some readers.
Adult: 18+
Sex imagery: explicit sex and more sprinklings of sex.
Language: foul language
If you aren’t feeling offended, then go ahead and enjoy the read!
BLURB
After experiencing a devastating betrayal on her wedding day, Latasha lost trust in men and romance. Heartbroken and disillusioned, she relocates to Lagos to start over. Latasha’s life takes a dramatic turn when a stormy-night-turned-rainy-week leaves her rained out and in the arms of Babajide, igniting unbridled passion. What begins as a moment of weakness spirals into a professional nightmare, as scandalous accusations threaten to destroy her career. Betrayed and judged, Latasha must navigate a web of lies and confront her deepest fears as she heals from her past trauma.
Adult: 18+
ONE
Moving to Lagos was not my plan, but given the situation I found myself, it seemed the best option. Desperation was what brought me this far, to the concrete jungle.
Let me tell you my story. A devout Christian woman, I was pushing thirty. I had been doing well for myself in the audit firm I worked at and was rising fast. The only thing I was missing was a husband.
I sowed my wild oats in the university, but somehow when I turned twenty-five, I gave my life to Christ. I was the lead usher in my church, Fire Filled Ministries of God. My pastors knew me, and so did their wives. I maintained a clean reputation and minded my business in general. And because I didn’t dabble in church politics, I was a favorite. The lead pastor’s wife would often joke that if she had a younger brother, she would have introduced him to me because only a good man deserved me. She advised me to ensure I only entertained godly and responsible men.
Over the course of minding my business, juggling my day job and my side hustle, which was drop-shipping men and women’s corporate footwear, I met him. Edward. The lead pastor’s nephew, who had just returned from the UK after gaining his master’s degree. He was poised to take over his father’s hospital network, according to the rumors. The pastor introduced him to me, and everything began to happen so fast. Before I could ask the Lord, “is he the one or should I wait for another?” we were seeing each other and exchanging messages that made me blush. It didn’t take long for him to ask me out, and of course, I said ‘yes’.
Why wouldn’t I? He was a prayer answered—an embodiment of tall, dark, rich and handsome. He also loved Jesus. For the six months we were together, I saw what I would consider some pink flags. Yes, pink. Attitudes not bloody enough to be considered red. We rarely talked about them, but when we did, he perfectly assuaged my fears.
Occasionally, he took me to see his parents. His mom had asked if he had seen Patrick and Chris. The names were strange to me, but each time it came up, he responded quickly and moved on to a different topic. This should have piqued my curiosity and made me ask questions, but… Well, my pastor said he had prayed about us and God told him Edward was my husband. I had never doubted my pastor’s prophecies. Besides, I was not getting any younger. I would be thirty in a few months, and I really needed to settle down in a man’s house.
Long story short, Edward proposed, and I accepted. Before anybody could ask, ‘how come?’ we were planning a wedding, and everyone that mattered was in support. I really didn’t have any reason to doubt my pastor. Desperate not to cross the threshold of thirty as a single pringle, I picked a date, a week to my thirtieth birthday. Like always, Edward didn’t object. In fact, he never objected to anything I wanted for this wedding–ordering my wedding dress from Brides and Ladies, and my traditional outfits from Kiki Jones. He understood I deserved the best. And of course I could afford it, so it wasn’t a big deal. The traditional wedding was held in the morning before the church blessing, and I couldn’t wait to flood social media with pictures.
I wanted every part of both events captured, the wine carrying, the exchange of vows… The cameraman was not to miss a thing because I was going to get my enemies sick with tons of images.
“Edward, do you take this woman, Latasha, to be your lawfully wedded wife…?” my pastor began reading out the vows to Edward as we stood facing each other at the altar. “To love and to hold, in sickness and in health, for richer and for poorer.”
For richer and poorer? God forbid. Which poorer? Who wanted to be poor? I rejected this part of the vows in Jesus’ name! I should have written my own vows the way I wanted. Ironically, even my parents did. Anyway, no big deal. All I knew is that in this marriage, God wasn’t going to allow poverty to visit us.
My pastor was done with Edward and turned to face me. All of a sudden, the few lines of vows seemed like a two-page recitation. I wished he could skip to the last part, so I would shout the ‘I do!’ and earn myself some cheers and applause.
Phew! Finally, it was over. We were left with the exchange of rings, and we would move on to the third phase of the day.
“Latasha,” Edward started, his eyes fixed on me. His lips stretched in a wide grin. “With this ring, I wed thee. All that I have, I give thee. In the name of the father…”
I knew I was supposed to shed a few tears at this point, but it seemed my emotions chose to react differently. My heart was beating fast, my palms were sweaty, and I swore I could feel a million happy feet kicking in the pit of my stomach.
“And the son…”
Oh, God. Oh, God.
“And the Holy Ghost…”
My eyes were closed now, my fingers spread, so there wouldn’t be any obstruction as he slid the ring onto my ring-finger. Eh. Any moment, any minute, I’d become Mrs…
Wait.
What was going on? What was that thud, accompanied by gasps? I snapped my eyes open and, Jesus! Jesus!
Edward, my husband! I moved fast, almost tripping over my gown, to kneel by the man on the floor. Edward, my husband, had just…collapsed?
“Edward, please,” I cried. Looking up, my eyes darted around in desperation. His family members were all around, and my father was standing close to me, shouting for everyone to back away, so Edward could have some space and fresh air.
“Dad…somebody… I need help!” I cried. Then I stared down at him. “Edy, please don’t do this. I beg you… Stop this joke, please.”
I felt a hand on my shoulder and someone pulling me away. Soon, we were riding in my dad’s car to the hospital. I, sitting in the front with my brother who was driving, while my father held my husband at the back seat, monitoring him.
At the hospital, it was as though I was in a haze because everything was happening at the same time. Everyone was moving and talking very quickly. I still couldn’t make sense of everything. Like a bad dream, I pinched myself several times, hoping to wake up to the reality of me finishing my vows and going to the reception with my husband. As I was still trying to get a grip, like everyone pleaded I should, Edward’s mother dropped a bomb when the doctor asked about any health issues.
“He has Hepatitis B,” she said.
My blood went cold immediately. “W-what? How…when…why? All these months and I didn’t know about this?”
My mom walked in through the door, pausing to search our faces. In her Russian-Igbo accent, she asked my dad, “Chibuzor, what happened? He will be okay, ba?”
“Nne, I don’t even know if I heard what I heard.” My dad straightened his gait, and asked Edward’s mother to repeat herself.
In a mousy tone, she replied, “Edward has Hepatitis B, and it is incurable.” She lowered her head after she spoke.
Everyone looked at me as I processed the betrayal. My dad turned to me and asked, anger evident in his voice. “Did you know, Latasha? Because if you did, you are a party to nonsense.”
“Daddy, did you think I’d have agreed to marry him if I knew?”
My mother, who was a nurse before she became a full-time housewife, looked at me. “Please tell me you did not sleep with him. And if you did, please say you used protection?”
“Mom, I never slept with him,” I said, my voice trembling with the emotions welling inside me. I could no longer hold back the tears that had been threatening to spill from my eyes. So, I let them flow.
Not comfortable with us gathering a pity party from the church members that accompanied us to the hospital, my mother guided me to the private waiting area where Edward’s dad was making a call. I stopped sobbing temporarily to see the man who fathered the deceptive monster I would have ended up with. He was speaking on his phone.
“Toju, bring Patrick and Christopher to the Medic Hospital in Wuse. The doctor said Edward’s organs have failed. Let them see their father before he dies, please. I beg of you.”
I shook as I sobbed harder. So, God was the one that objected to this marriage. Wow! I couldn’t believe I was about to marry a man who failed to tell me he had Hepatitis B. And as if that was not bad enough, the man also had two children he didn’t spend time with? God abeg, oh!
His father looked sheepishly at me before squaring his shoulders. His uncle, my pastor, walked in.
“Brother, what’s the prognosis?” he asked Edward’s father.
“His organs are failing.”
Pastor spoke again, “I thought he was taking his medicine?”
“I have called for his sons to come see him. Hopefully, they make it here before he passes.”
The man placed his head in his hands. I stared at him, and he stared back, almost like a dare. Then it struck me, the bastard actually knew. My father seemed to sense things and strode directly to the pastor and held him by the collar, yanking him off his feet. My father was ready to rain some blows on him, but my mother and I begged him, telling him Pastor John wasn’t worth it.
Dazed by everything that had happened, I walked out of the hospital in my two million-naira wedding dress, with my parents. Later that evening, I got a message that Edward passed with his sons by his side.
I didn’t know how to pick up the pieces, but I pulled through, and two weeks later, I left for Lagos, leaving my past behind me. Thankfully, my dad and uncles had returned my bride price to Edward’s family, severing all ties I had with them. I was to resume a job in a family-owned audit firm, a job I didn’t apply for. Apparently, my boss had recommended me to the management of the firm after he heard about what had happened to me. I was to stay with my mom’s widowed friend, Aunty Ann, whose kids lived abroad.
This was an opportunity I never knew I needed but was thankful for. If things worked out as planned, I’d be working for this new firm for two years and then move to a multinational company, possibly outside Nigeria, as I’d had enough of this place. My mother wouldn’t have that, though. She would rather I stayed here than move abroad. Not when I was working on going to Russia, of all places, and to stay with her parents. She had fallen out with her family when she insisted on marrying my father, who was a medical student in the USSR at that time.
TWO
I had worked for my current boss for about a month. My opinion of him was not good. He was a jerk, and it took a lot to not be hostile to him. He was one of those men who thought they were God’s gift to the entire womanhood. Not that I was even remotely attracted to men. I simply wanted to put my head down and do my work. Somehow, this man, whom I guessed was my peer or a bit older by one–at most–two years, thought he was my lord and personal savior because I worked for him. He made sure I had not a minute to myself once I got to the office. I was doing the job of three people, underappreciated; and he had the nerve to include the monitoring of his inbox to my duties.
Msschew, all these trust fund babies that can’t get a regular job on a normal day.
He reminded me that I was no longer working with E&Z, where it seemed like I did nothing but laze around. According to him, I should learn to deal with my new work environment or get out. I thought people who schooled abroad were supposed to exhibit less toxicity in the workplace, but I was wrong.
Rain brings with it good luck and fertility, but the rain of the past two days didn’t seem to be abating or bringing anything good with it. The first incident that made me conclude that accepting this job offer from a family-owned firm was a bad idea happened two days after my resumption. I was late to work, and this man with an ego the size of a football field, wanted to know why. He had snorted when I told him I was coming from Akowonjo, and that getting transportation from there was a bit difficult. Dismissing my plight, he had reminded me of some of his other employees who made it to work much earlier from farther places. He shut me up with a hand gesture when I tried further to make him understand why I was late. If it weren’t that my alternative to a day job was to sit at home and do nothing but rehash all the red flags from Edward and curse his soul repeatedly, I would have resigned. Alas! I couldn’t emotionally afford an idle mind.
For context, I had seen some parts of this guy’s personal life since he asked me to monitor his work email. STD test results from his hospital to be exact. I guess when you were heir apparent, you were allowed to engage in all sorts of rubbish. And before you ask, I read the email. Unfortunately, the disrespectful jerk didn’t have any STDs. I felt he deserved one or two incurable ones, though, just for the humility factor.
Adding to my dislike of him, the clown showed up, notifying me that we would be receiving the management accounts from one of our larger clients. According to him, we needed to begin the audit on the income statement, and we had to finish a section of it before we left for the day.
In my most polite voice, I spoke up, “Babajide, I need to leave with the staff bus at 5 p.m. prompt today. The rain outside is bad; I won’t be able to find transport home if I stay longer.”
He looked at me and replied, “Latasha, we are not leaving this office until what I have said is done.” He stormed off and shut himself in his office.
I made up my mind. I would leave as soon as it was time for me to. If he wanted to write me up, all good and well. I doubted that he had the power to fire me for leaving, given the rain situation, heir apparent notwithstanding. I was ready to defend myself if Human Resources brought it up.
I was already neck deep in work when my phone rang. I straightened up from my desk, picked up the phone and checked the caller ID. Oh, goodness! Mariana! I hadn’t gotten the time to return her calls or respond to her many messages these past weeks. I picked up the call and her screams almost rendered me deaf.
“Max proposed, Latasha! Maxwell proposed to me. I am getting married!” Then she went silent immediately. “I am so sorry, I should have been more sensitive in breaking the news.”
She would be the second of my friends, who had apologized for bringing up the topic of marriage in conversation recently. Three days after I relocated to Lagos, Kelechi had called to find out how I was settling in the new city. She had proceeded to tell me about an aso-ebi material she would be getting for an upcoming wedding, and then stopped midway, apologizing repeatedly, even when I told her I wasn’t triggered. But seriously, why was everyone still assuming I was still hurting from what Edward did to me?
“Mariana, seriously. I am fine,” I reassured my friend.
I wouldn’t deny that I still felt a slice of pain each time I thought of Edward, his family and that fraud of a pastor who deceived me from the onset. But I had moved on. As for healing, I wasn’t sure I would ever heal from what happened. But I didn’t need anyone to treat me with such delicateness. I was a strong woman.
Our conversation moved from her proposal to some local gossip, then to how much our girls’ clique missed me. They’d been hanging out less since I left, and it had not really been the same without me.
It was 4:58 p.m. when I got off the phone. Jesus! We had spent thirty minutes talking, and I’d totally forgotten that I had work on my desk. Two minutes to closing time, I swept all my belongings into my purse, slid on my rain boots, popped open my umbrella at the building exit and made a beeline for the parking lot, where the staff bus was usually waiting. But by the time I got there, I saw the bus driving off. I kept waving frantically; unfortunately, the driver didn’t see me through the heavy downpour. I went back to the lobby and tried to see if I could get an Uber home, even though the price would be cost-prohibitive.
I couldn’t find any available rides.
I had the brilliant idea to go beyond the lot to see if I could get a bus from the bus stop outside the office compound. The only thing I got was wet, ending up with a damaged umbrella. Resigned to my fate, I sat under the shade at the bus stop and waited for the downpour to subside.
Oh, my God. Oh my God. Eish. Slapping my arm, I scratched frantically, looking down at my reddened, swollen skin and letting out a frustrating hiss. My allergy had decided to rear its head.
Scratching the itch on my neck that was gradually spreading to my nape, I missed again. For Christ’s sake, how could I forget that I was allergic to rainwater? Since I was four years old, my skin had reacted each time I went under the rain unguarded. The doctors said I’d outgrow it, but I was thirty now, and I still scratched like someone with a terrible skin disease anytime I was touched by the rain.
THREE
The rain wasn’t subsiding, and there were no buses. Among the few that stopped by, none was heading towards my area. My itches had increased to a very discomforting level. Ah! There was nothing anyone would do or say to make me not type and send my resignation letter once I got my hands on a working computer, because what the actual fuck? How did I end up in this hot mess? Seriously, agreeing to come to Lagos and accepting this slavery of a job wasn’t worth it. The pay wasn’t even encouraging.
Anyway, I would concentrate on getting home first. A bus slowed in front of the shed. Grabbing my bag, I raced towards it, alongside the other individual waiting at the bus stop. I was disappointed when the bus conductor mentioned Obalende direct. Meaning, it wasn’t going to stop by any bus stop until it got to Obalende. Hissing, I got down, thinking; what on earth was happening? Who did I offend that the universe was trying to disgrace me like this?
I slapped my thigh and scratched. My goodness. I felt like I was going mad. Scratching some more, my head darted left and right in search of another oncoming vehicle. I was willing to take a ride from anyone at this point, ritualists included. I reached into my purse to take my last allergy pill, but my hand shook so hard from the cold that I ended up dropping the pill in the rain. Of course, the thing dissolved right before my eyes. My itchy skin made me desperate.
Good thing I had my rain boots on. Otherwise, I would have sat at the bus stop, scratching my feet in addition to my other body parts. I saw a car driving in the direction of the bus stop, and I really didn’t care who it was. I just needed a ride somewhere, anywhere. I would take one back to the office and sit there till either the rain stopped or I resigned, or I fell asleep, steeped in my own misery.
Risking it all, I stuck out my damaged umbrella beyond the bus stop awning and waved it like a lunatic at the Land Cruiser driving in my direction. By a miracle, God was still answering my prayers. The car slowed down, and I waited for the driver to roll down the window before I spoke.
“Good evening. Please, I need a ride to the nearest fast-food joint or pharmacy or even back to the office,” I stated in exasperation, pointing towards the office complex. The back window behind the passenger’s seat rolled down.
“Latasha, what are you doing here in the rain?”
I wanted to roll my eyes, but I reminded myself, pride needed to take a backseat at this point. So, I said, “Babajide, I left the office right on time, but I missed the staff bus.” I shrank away as the wind carried some rain in my direction. My blouse was probably already transparent, given how wet I was.
He responded as he saw me further back up into the bus stop. “Get in the car and let’s figure out a way to get you home. Where do you live?”
Without responding, I opened the car door and stepped in. As soon as I settled in the passenger’s seat, I began shivering and my teeth started chattering. Who the hell drives with the AC on full blast in the rain? The car was freezing. Looking down at the arms I folded across my chest to ease the cold that was already seeping into my bones, I frowned. My arms were a combined red blotchy mess.
“Where do you live?” he asked again.
“Akonwonjo,” I replied, unfolding my arms to scratch the blotches. “I don’t know which way you are going, but you can drop me off at any fast food or pharmacy close by.”
“Why are your arms red?” he asked me.
I stared down at my arms, and I was getting ready to be smart, but I realized he could very well kick me out of his car.
“I have rain allergies. When rainwater touches my skin, I end up itching. I just need to get to a pharmacy to get some Piriton to stop the itching.”
“You really are trying to get to Akonwonjo in this rain? Didn’t you hear the weather forecast? It will be raining heavily for the next couple of days.”
I looked back at him. “Can you please drop me off at the office? I can spend the night and figure it out.”
“Seriously, you think I am going to take you back to the office and leave you there by yourself?” As he spoke, I shivered some more, rubbing my forearms to relieve the itching.
He spoke to his driver, “Zacchaeus, turn off the AC.” He looked at me before continuing. “We will drive you to a chemist, but my mother won’t forgive me if I leave you in the office. I have enough guest rooms in my place. I promise I won’t bite. Tomorrow, we will see if the rain has slowed down enough for you to get home. I don’t live too far from here.”
Our office was on Lewis Street in Victoria Island. My guess was that his residence had to be close by.
He spoke again to the driver, “Zacchaeus stop by the chemist before you turn onto Bank Road.”
“Yes, sir,” the driver responded.
When we got to the pharmacy, he asked me what my medicine was called, grabbed his umbrella and stepped out of the car. The wind played with his umbrella as he rushed into the store. The security guard opened the door for him and he stepped in. About fifteen minutes later, he appeared with a bag that seemed to contain more than the Piriton I requested. He handed me a bottle of water and took the meds out of the boxes.
“The pharmacist said to take some Piriton to stop the itching and some Claritin to reduce the swelling. I also got you some sensitive skin body wash so you can wash off the rain when we get to mine.”
“Thank you so much, Babajide. God bless you. I don’t know how I would have made it through the night, even though the reaction will pass eventually. How much do I owe you?”
“Don’t insult me, Latasha,” he scoffed.
I popped the pills and chased them down with water. Less than five minutes later, we were pulling into a very large compound. His, I guessed. At his instruction, the driver drove up to the main building’s porch. Before I could unfold my arms to unlock the door and get out of the car, he was already by my door with an open umbrella.
I was beginning to see a side of him I wasn’t privy to in the office. He wasn’t such a jerk after all. We took the stairs to the second floor, and he let me into his apartment. He took off his shoes at the door, so I did the same, dropping my umbrella in the same stand he placed his. He motioned for me to follow, leading me to a guest bathroom, pointing out the shower. He let me know that he would drop off a t-shirt and some shorts for me to wear with some house slippers.
I didn’t have the energy to argue, so I nodded. I watched him walk out of the room before entering the bathroom. I turned the lock and stripped myself down. I had never been more grateful for water heaters than I was as soon as I turned the shower knob and the mildly heated water sprayed down from the nuzzles onto my skin. Lifting my face to the shower, I allowed myself to enjoy the warm massage for a while, blessing my boss for the umpteenth time since I sank my butt inside his cozy car. Then I loosened my hair, allowing it to tumble to my shoulders.
I read the instructions on the bottle of the body wash again just to make sure it was fragrance free and wouldn’t aggravate my skin. I noticed it was for babies. I peered into the bag and found the accompanying lotion. I couldn’t have been more grateful. I was washing my hair when I heard the knock on the door. My boss’s voice filtered through the other side of the door, announcing that he’d dropped clean clothes for me on the bed and I should leave my wet clothes outside the room door so he’d pick them up later and run them in his washing machine.
Wow. Ehn? Who died and came back to life to tell my grumpy boss that he would be taken to the deepest part of hell in a few days if he didn’t start treating me right? He even mentioned that he was heading to the kitchen to put some dinner together for me!
After my shower, I wore the clothes he kept for me. But before I went into the kitchen, I sent Mariana a WhatsApp message with a Google pin of my location, his full name and his picture, which I was able to screenshot from the company website.
And truly, when I found my way to the kitchen some minutes later, he was there, heating up some rice and oatmeal. I couldn’t tell how long I stood watching him, wondering what sort of wonder this was, before he turned and saw me.
“Come in,” he said, taking my hand and guiding me towards the mini dining table in the kitchen space.
“Thank you for your hospitality,” I said with a smile, completely relieved that he wasn’t one of those psychos who abducted and tortured unsuspecting women.
“You’re most welcome,” he said with a grin that lit his eyes.
Moving farther into the kitchen, I peeked in the bowl on the counter. “Oatmeal? That’s an interesting dinner choice.”
He chuckled. “I read somewhere that it helps with allergies. That’s why I made it.”
His remark melted my heart. What a nice guy.
“I also made peppermint tea,” he added with a cheerful smile. “Also heard it is calming.”
“Thank you very much,” I said, still stunned by his generosity.
He ushered me to one of the chairs, then walked to the cooker to serve the food. “This should help stop the allergy completely.” He pushed the bowl of oatmeal towards me. He walked back to the counter and returned with a steaming mug.
“Peppermint tea,” he said and settled on the other chair with a plate of rice.
I was just too tired and filled with gratitude that I wasn’t in the office itching or sitting at the bus stop for that matter. The medication must have begun kicking in. A few minutes after eating, I was beginning to feel drowsy from the Piriton I had taken earlier. I was no stranger to the side effects of drowsiness, having taken the medicine for the better part of my adult life to help with my allergies.
FOUR
Despite feeling drowsy from my medication after dinner, I opted to sit in the living room so as not to appear ungrateful. Sitting in his t-shirt and shorts that I had to hold in place with a knot using my hair tie, I felt surrounded by the unmistakable scent of a man. Five minutes tops, and I would excuse myself.
He grabbed his TV remote and sat on the other side of the couch, putting some distance between us. I looked down at my arms and the redness and swelling were starting to reduce. At least, I would be able to go back to work in the morning. Though it meant I had to wear the same clothes two days in a row, which I never did. That was okay; I was only going in to tender my resignation. I would give my former boss a call and beg for my old job back. I was willing to head back to Abuja, regardless of the Edward saga. Lagos wasn’t working for me, and my dream of getting into a multinational corporation seemed far-fetched.
The rain was relentless, now accompanied by thunderclaps, frightening me. Looking at him, Babajide seemed to sense my worry.
“You look very uncomfortable, are you ok?”
Feeling self-conscious, I decided to speak up. “Thunderstorms are not really my cup of tea. Matter of fact, they make me scared and jumpy when they are really bad.”
He patted the couch. “You can sit closer to me. I promise I won’t bite unless you ask me to.” He grinned, finishing the statement.
I asked, “Are you sure it is okay? For some reason, I have the impression you don’t like me. At least from the way you act towards me in the office.”
He laughed. “If only you knew, Latasha. Now is not the right time to talk about it. You need to rest and feel better. We will talk about whether I like you or not at a different time.”
I moved in closer to him on the couch, willing myself to relax. I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I knew was that I was snuggled into him. Physical contact was a weak point for me; he was nice and warm. He must have let me sleep for a bit, because he woke me after what felt like a nap.
“We should get you to bed. You look uncomfortable sleeping in this position.”
I rose and began stretching when a thunderclap ripped. Of course, I jumped and he noticed.
“No kidding, you really are terrified of this stuff?”
I was trying not to let my fear reflect on my face, but he clearly sensed it.
“I can leave all the lights on down here for you. That may keep you up, but should make you feel better.”
I rubbed my nape, trying not to sound weird. “Ehm, it’s a strange environment, so it gets harder for me if I am alone. I mean, I can just stay up and watch TV to distract myself and see if I can fall asleep here.”
“I will do you a solid. How about we do this? I will pull in a comforter and sleep on the floor of the guestroom where you can see me. Will that be helpful?”
I decided against him sleeping on the floor of the guestroom, opting to face my fears. I didn’t want to put myself or him in a position we wouldn’t be able to defend. I let him know and went off to the guestroom alone. I would probably be up all night, but what were the options?
It was a rough night, but I managed a couple of hours of sleep. I rose from the bed, remembering I was in a strange place. Cleaning up for the morning, I made a mental note of where my clothes had been kept after they were laundered the evening before. After dressing up, I headed to the kitchen. The smell of coffee hit my nostrils before I noticed him standing shirtless by the kitchen island, with pajama bottoms on. I wasn’t one to look, but I hadn’t seen a half-naked man in a long time. Look I did, catching a glimpse of his morning wood pushing against his pants. After allowing me my fill, he spoke.
“Good morning. I didn’t think you would be up this early. Apologies for my appearance.” He continued, teasing, “It seems you like what you see.”
Determining it was not worth my denial, I said, “You are a good-looking man. I doubt you need me to tell you that. But that’s beside the point. Can I have some coffee, please? I would like to get a head start on making it to the office this morning.”
He poured me a cup, and I moved to the opposite end of the counter.
“Have you looked outside? It is raining cats and dogs. There are no cars driving past. I doubt you would be able to make it to the office, talk less the distance to your house in one piece. NiMet has predicted it would rain non-stop for the next few days. So, I recommend you get comfortable. We are in this for the next couple of days.”
I crossed over to the living room and peered out of the window. It was, as he said, flooded streets with no one in sight. I immediately picked up my phone to call my aunt and my mom to notify them that I would be at Babajide’s place. I quickly sent a message to Mariana, who responded teasingly. I ignored her and made the call, giving both women greater details around my host while on the group call.
After the call, I went back into the kitchen to find him fully dressed, making what appeared to be breakfast. The polite thing to do was offer to help, so I did.
“Hi, what can I help with?” I asked as I noticed he was whisking eggs in a bowl.
“It’s under control. I am just making eggs with toast, nothing fancy. I promise you, I can manage that without burning the place down.”
I snickered. “That’s rich, coming from you. I’m sure that’s the extent of your culinary prowess.”
He guffawed. “Good thing we are stuck in here. I will make you dinner based on the content of my fridge and freezer. Then you can shower me with praise.”
He plated the food and carried it to the dining table with me on his heels. He motioned for me to sit, and I settled on the chair beside him. We ate in near silence. I did offer to wash up, but he shooed me out of the kitchen, encouraging me to find something to watch on TV. I took the liberty to look around his living room, finding my favorite game of dominoes tucked next to a monopoly box at the bottom of the coffee table.
By the time he was done in the kitchen, I had shuffled the pieces and laid them out on the coffee table, proceeding to play a game against myself. I was weird like that.
He sat across from me, watching till I was done with my solo game prior to starting a new one. Before we knew it, it was lunchtime, and he quickly boiled some rice to go with stew he already had in his fridge. This was certainly not the office bully I knew; this man was a gentleman that fully owned his private kingdom. I think I might have judged the man too quickly.
It felt like I had known him longer and better than many others I had been in close spaces with. His personality was magnetic, and I felt myself being pulled in hard. I was at the point of throwing caution to the wind. I mean, I had done things by the book, and where did that get me?
He offered a nightcap after dinner, and I explained that I didn’t drink alcohol but didn’t mind a cup of tea to round up the day. We sat on the couch as he flipped through channels before settling on one. I moved in closer to him, and he looked at me, almost as if he was asking me to declare my intentions.
Clearing my throat, I began, “I am attracted to you, I think. I am not saying we have to act on it, but it’s just how I feel. I don’t know if it is right or wrong, but I just want to put it out there.”
There! I said it!
Staring intensely at me, he offered me a little to go on. “Interesting that you would say that. The feeling is mutual.”
Panicking, I riposted, “I mean…like, I am not asking you for anything. Hell, I don’t even know if you are dating anyone. I…don’t know what I am trying to say. My mouth is just vomiting words. I am sorry.” I pulled away, as my hands flew up to cover my face.
He motioned for me to stop, pulling me back down to the couch and leaning into me. “Give me your hands, please.”
I extended my hands to him, and he took them gently.
“Can I kiss you?”
The butterflies in my belly were flapping their wings at the speed of light. To hell with celibacy. I would let this do whatever it was meant to do. I nodded my consent.
FIVE
Once we went down that road of fornication express, we drove above the speed limit, doing many things. He did draw the line at going all the way. If he prodded, I am ashamed to say I would have allowed it. The rain made the level of closeness and intimacy not seem weird while it was happening. As the rain subsided, it was like my brain also began gaining clarity. I wasn’t sure I could let go completely and date in the way of the world. It felt like it would take an extraordinary person to constantly ensure they were transparent with me, given my history.
On the second day of being at his place, I was up early and ready to head out. It was going to be two things. There was no coming back from what I had consented to, and it was time to get on with my real life. As I prepared to depart from his place, he accosted me in the midst of my confusion.
“What’s wrong? Are you going somewhere?”
“Jide, we are late for work. What kind of question is that?”
“The type that doesn’t warrant a real answer, but I will tell you anyway. Last night, I asked the department lead to send out text messages to everyone to stay home if the rain didn’t abate. I mean, it has slowed down, but it is still raining quite a bit.”
“Okay, but I should probably head home. I told my aunt I was spending the last two evenings with a friend because of the rain.”
He walked over and stood behind me.
“Tash, it’s not a good idea for you to head out in this rain. You can stay here for the next couple of days. I will get you home in time for you to resume work, I promise,” he said, all the while planting kisses on the nape of my neck.
My stomach grumbled and that was my cue to pull apart. “Can we eat before you try anything else?” I asked.
After I had returned my belongings to the guestroom, we met up in the kitchen and worked together to feed ourselves. It was going to be a lazy day, since I didn’t have my laptop with me. I called my aunt to let her know I was fine and would make it to the house once the roads were motorable.
Of course, I mustn’t forget to hide myself from the rain, or I’d be scratching like I had poison ivy rubbed all over me. I didn’t know who was more worried about my allergy: my aunt or my mother. Two days prior, I made a passing statement about the rain while speaking to both women on a group call. My aunt had sent me a dozen messages to know if I was safe from the downpour. Really, when would the elders in my life realize that I was an adult and capable of taking care of myself?
“I’ll be fine, aunty,” I said, looking up at Jide, who was making breakfast nearby. “Aunty, how is our street? Hope it’s not flooded too?”
“It is. Worse than what we had last year.”
“Na wa o. While I was leaving for work a few days ago, the area was dry.” The rain only started later that day and… Wow, Lagos State was really a strange place.
“I hope you are safe too?” I said to her.
She said she was, but her house wasn’t. The living room was flooded, and she had to instruct her domestic workers to help move the furniture upstairs.
“But don’t worry, everything has been taken care of,” she assured me.
Jide had turned the television on and was surfing channels when I got off the phone and walked into the sitting room to meet him.
“Try TLC,” I suggested.
“Why?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know… I love their programs. Especially 600 Pound Life.”
He leaned forward to pick up a second remote to switch on his Apple TV. I watched him keenly, like a lioness watching her prey. The man was sexy as sin with his corded arms that flexed with minimal movement. He was my sin.
“And what’s that about?” He chuckled, still flipping channels. He stopped at TLC, gave me an unsure look and dropped the TV remote. “I hope I like it,” he said, walking to settle on a couch. “You want to come sit?”
That was all the invitation I needed to join him; some minutes into the show, we were engrossed. I nestled into him and fell asleep. I must have been dreaming because I swore, I heard his voice repeatedly uttering words of endearment.
I woke up to his nice warm body snuggled against me and to his soft kisses on my face. Within the blink of an eye, I was laying on top of him awkwardly with certain body parts poking me.
“Tash, are you shy now?” I refused to look up at him, and he lifted my chin. “You seemed to cuddle into me earlier without any complaints. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, uhm, you are just a little too big.”
He laughed.
“You know, you are really good for my ego. I plan to claim you in all ways possible. I am definitely planning on taking my time with you.”
I looked at him, I was sure my facial expression wore my confusion. “What do you mean?” I asked.
“I want to make love to you in every way when the time is right,” he said.
He didn’t need to say more. Seconds later, we were all over each other. All we did was fornicate, eat and sleep while the rest of the world was rained in. The seven days of rain essentially shut down everything but our bodies that never tired of exploring each other.
By the time he dropped me off in Akowonjo, I realized I had never been so conflicted about what I wanted from a man in my entire twelve years of dating. One minute, I wanted to be his girlfriend, the next I wanted to resign and run. The following minute, I was picturing a long term situation where we could perhaps have happily ever after. In all of my backsliding, I smiled. It was a good way to be rained in.
The next day at the office, I went straight to my desk, and jumped straight to work. He strolled in, greeted everyone and asked to see me in his office. I gave him a few minutes to settle in, wondering what the issue was. He asked me to shut the door behind me, but I didn’t. With the way I had been thinking about him and how what he did to me these past couple of days I spent at his place, destroying me sweetly, marking the whole of me with his scent and touch, I doubted if I would be able to keep away from him if I dared shut the door. And I didn’t want that. No… I want… Oh, God…what did I even want?
I’d had a brief moment, out of the many times my body craved his touch when I was back in my aunt’s place, to think about how shameless I acted with him. What really happened to make me throw caution to the wind and jump into it with Jide? I didn’t even consider that he would see me as loose and desperate. Gosh!
This was the more reason I had to resign and leave. And the fact that I still wanted him! I thought of those moments he made me orgasm and felt wetness pooling in my core.
He stared at me for a while, then shook his head and ushered me into a seat across his desk. I refused, opting to stand instead.
“Tasha, I wanted to talk to you outside of my house. I want us to go steady.”
I looked at him like he was crazy.
“I know we left things unspoken,” I replied, “but I am not sure when I gave the impression that I was looking for anything steady. More so, what happened was a mistake.”
The real truth was, after Edward, I was an emotional mess that couldn’t trust anyone.
“Okay, so let me get this. You allowed us to be intimate without protection, and you don’t want anything serious? Help me understand this. Do you want us to be just fuck buddies, Latasha?”
I cringed before I spoke. “Babajide, that’s not what I am saying. The whole thing was a mistake. It should have never happened. And I don’t think this is the right place or time to be having this conversation.”
I rose from the chair.
“Okay, can I take you out for dinner, and we can talk about what we are?”
I looked dead at him. “I am really sorry I gave you the wrong impression, but I am not interested in a relationship, nor am I cut out for casual sex or making out. While I don’t regret the time we spent together, the intimacy was a mistake. It goes against how I am trying to live my life.”
I walked out of his office and sat back at my desk, immediately typing my resignation letter.
SIX
He rejected my resignation letter!
What was this? What was he trying to do? Anyway, I was moved to a different unit. I’d be working directly under his mother, who, until this moment, I didn’t know was a director in the company. I was also given better perks: a salary increase and an official car. I suspected that Jide must have had a hand in the change and the package that came with it. But I wouldn’t deny that I loved it. In fact, Kelechi had said it would be stupid to continue pushing for resignation. I had kept her updated on what was going on. His mother seemed amiable and pleasant, and she treated the staff with dignity and respect. I heard that she and her husband were auditors, and they had started the company together.
Anyway, working here was smooth. The environment was relaxing enough that I sometimes forgot the stupidity I had with Jide. I guessed he also was trying to forget too because he’d not been to this unit since I was moved here. I did think about him a few times, though. Like yesterday, after clearing my table for the day, the thought of him had randomly popped into my head for a split second, leaving my heart in jitters. Stupid me! I knew I wasn’t catching feelings for him, or was I? What the hell?
Today, one of my colleagues brought some invitation cards for us, for our madam’s sixtieth birthday anniversary at Muson Center. We all were to grace the occasion and dress to represent the theme of the party; ‘Lagos Glamour Owambe Vibe.’
My aunt and I had a good laugh when I got home and showed her the invite.
“Clearly, your madam is trying to enter her 60s with a bang. And she wants you people to help her achieve that,” my aunt said.
But there was a problem. How would I dress for this party without looking like a horse in a boat? Lagos social circles were fairly new to me.
“That can be taken care of,” my aunt said. “I have a friend who is a top designer. She will glam you up.”
Of course, the designer ate and left no crumbs. It was as if the woman had been waiting to turn someone into a personal fashion project, and I happened to be available at the right time.
Meanwhile, it seemed like Babajide had cut off all contact with me. That was supposed to be a good thing, I should feel free. Unfortunately, I didn’t. It was as if I had been played by him. I didn’t want to admit that I seemed to be getting fond of him with every minute he crossed my mind. While I was at his place, I had suspected that I had heard him whisper that he loved me. Clearly, it was a case of temporary insanity; and thank God, my senses had returned. God had to really be a forgiving God. I had picked my bible back up, and though I still refused to go to church, I was back studying the word and staying away from the drama that was men.
Being able to attend the event at the Muson Center would have been hard for me if it weren’t for the considerate arrangements made by one of us who booked a room in a nearby hotel for us to sleep in against the said day. How would I manage my heavily delicate dress and heels, together with driving through Lagos gridlock traffic, to get to the venue? And because the party would be running into the night, we would also be spending a second night in the booked hotel room, returning to our homes the next day.
Getting to the venue, I alighted from the car, straightened my knee-length black sequined dress and strode into the venue. The gate pass was the invitation card. I flashed mine at the bouncer standing in a combat stance at the entrance and followed an usher to a cluster of tables reserved for the office staff, settling in a seat next to my boisterous co-worker, Solape.
“Latasha, they said Lagos Glam, you went and gave them Hollywood. You are here looking like Beyoncé’s twin.”
I laughed. “I will accept it, but then again, it has to be her broken twin, because with all the glam I see here this evening. Hmm. You look great, Solape.”
We chatted for a bit before the waiters came around with copious amounts of food and drinks. I suspected it was Babajide’s doing, as I had spotted him earlier following me with his eyes as I crossed the hall to my assigned seating. As the evening wore on, we moved to the rhythm of the music while seated, trying to communicate above the din. Solape pointed out that Mrs. O was dancing, and I turned around to look at the celebrant.
“Latasha, they are spraying her money and no one is collecting it for her. Let’s go help.”
“Solape, the owambe princess!” I teased. “Is it that you are looking for a promotion?”
“Latasha, can’t you see the band guys are picking her money?”
She went on to empty the bags that held some of the souvenirs they had distributed to guests earlier, pulling me to my feet. “Let’s make ourselves useful. We can’t just eat food and go.”
Before I could protest, she announced to the rest of our table our mission and dragged me with two bags. I found my grown self, squatting in all my finery to pick up money. It took a while, but we got it all, playing the role of money pickers and back-up dancers to the celebrant.
Solape, at some point, excused herself for a bathroom break, and I was stuck. It took a while for Mrs. O to stop dancing, but she mouthed thank you a few times to me. So, at least, she acknowledged me. During the band’s break, I asked her whom to give the money to, and she pointed to one of her daughters-in-law. Noticing Babajide making his way to the dance floor with a wad of money in his hand, I opted to excuse myself.
I handed the money over and walked towards the male and female bathroom. But I was shocked to see Babajide in front of me, blocking my path.
“Oh, hi. Did you need something?”
He looked back at me. “You, Tasha. You.”
“Jide, I don’t understand.”
“I have stayed away for eight weeks, and I refuse to do it any longer. Just tell me what you want and I will do it, Tasha.”
I looked at him as I felt heat creep further under my skin. If temptation and backsliding was a thing, it was standing right in front of me.
Clearly, I needed to explain, so I did just that. “Look, Jide, what happened between us is the past. It was a moment of weakness. I figured you had also moved on. I am not interested in a relationship. Matter of fact, I don’t do relationships.”
“Tasha, are you saying you want a friends-with-benefits situation?”
“Absolutely not, Jide, I am a Christian. You were my one point of weakness in the last five years. It can’t happen again. I don’t plan on sleeping with any man that is not my husband. And at this rate, I do not intend to get married. So, thank you, but no, thank you.”
He shook his head at me, confused. “So, you were celibate for five years and fell into sin with me. Not that I am complaining, but I am crazy about you. Can’t you give us a shot?” He moved closer into my space and was about to kiss me when Solape barged into the restroom.
“Tasha, you were gone for a while, I came to check up on you. I guess you are busy.” She backed away.
“Our conversation was just ending,” I called after Solape, walking away from Jíde and into the ladies’ room. Looking in the mirror, my flustered, barely made-up face stared back at me. I pulled my curls into a top bun, splashed some water on my face and left.
SEVEN
All hell broke loose on Tuesday when Mrs. O came into the office after her birthday weekend. Babajide was hot on her tail, and he spotted me, sending a cursory glance my way as he tailed her into her office. My extension rang as soon as her door was shut.
“Latasha, see me in my office now,” she commanded across the office line.
I couldn’t begin to imagine what I was wanted for. I stepped into the office to find mother and son in what looked like a standoff.
“Latasha, I am going to cut to the chase. You are fired,” she blurted.
I looked at her, then at him, confused. “Fired? How? For what? I am sorry, but what is going on? I don’t understand. If it is because of what happened between Jide and I, ma, I can swear on my life it won’t happen again. It was just a moment of weakness.”
Babajide gasped when he realized what I just admitted to.
“Babajide, so you transferred her out of your department because you are sleeping with her? I thought you said she was smart and an asset. That we would be stupid not to retain her, and keep her happy?” his mother asked.
He proceeded to speak, but she continued. “So you essentially brought a thief right to my doorstep because your pen was dipping illicitly in her ink? Wow, so you are womanizing in the workplace. Shame on you, young people. As for you, Latasha, you are fired because you stole from me.”
Stole… how? When? Where? With my mouth agape, I looked from mother to son and back to mother again. If this woman had called me a Jezebel or a fornicator, I would have been ashamed, but at least, I’d have been able to handle it. But, a thief? I was bewildered and I let it be known.
“Me, steal from you, Ma? If there is one thing I am not, it is a thief. I show up to work and do my work diligently. I don’t even involve myself in any of the drama around here. A thief is something I am not and will never be.”
“Where is the money you collected from my birthday party? You came to pick my money pretending to help, but you carted it away.”
Exasperated at the direction of the conversation, I raised my voice. “You cannot fire me on a mere allegation. I handed the money bag as you instructed to your daughter-in-law you pointed me to. If you want to fire me, it is all and well, but do us all a favor and make sure the reason for termination is stated. I am sorry I was involved with your son. That is the only thing I am guilty of doing.”
As I opened her door to step out of her office, I realized the rest of the department had gathered by the door, eavesdropping. The looks they gave me made it a struggle for me to walk out of this place with my head high. Unfortunately, my madam was bent on stripping every bit of my pride and dignity. She wasn’t going to let me exit with whatever was remaining of my self-worth.
“I don’t condone hiring prostitutes disguised as professionals! Born throways like you are simply prostitutes in skirt suits!”
I heard my co-workers gasp. I knew the meaning of that insult, but I decided I was going to ignore it.
“I will leave, but I truly wish you peace when you find the person that took your money, because it wasn’t me. I will pray for your black heart. I have done nothing to deserve the insults you have lobbed at me.”
I stormed out, feeling eyes digging holes in my back, hearing stifled laughter and muffled talks. I increased my pace, praying that the tears that had gathered in my eyes wouldn’t spill.
I refused to cry. God, I mustn’t let a single teardrop.
“Tasha!”
Babajide… he was hot on my tail.
“Tasha, please, I am sorry. I know you didn’t do it. I was trying to talk her down before she called you.”
I continued to my desk like a mad woman while he walked behind me. All 6ft of him tried to keep up with my 5ft 8-inch stride. I began clearing my desk as soon as I reached it. I didn’t even bother touching my computer. To hell with all of them! I counted to 10 before I said anything to him. “I am not that woman, Babajide. I am not. I will not have my image tarnished. Your mother called me a bastard and a prostitute at the same time. Wow, that’s all I can really say.”
He stood there, dumbfounded, as I put all my stuff in a plastic bag I found by my desk. I called my company-assigned driver, notifying him to report to HR, as he would no longer be reporting to me. I opened my ride-share app and called an Uber to take me home.
As I walked out of the office, Solape motioned that she would call me. I didn’t want anyone else in Mrs. O’s line of fire, so I stayed mute as I exited the floor with Babajide trailing behind me.
“At least let me take you home, and if you don’t want that, let my driver take you. I need to know you’ll get home safe.”
I turned back to look at him. “Your mother needs you. Please leave me out of all this.”
On getting to my Aunt’s place, I called Mariana to see if she could talk me off the ledge I was on. I wanted to call the office to give that woman a piece of my mind. Thank goodness, she didn’t answer.
My aunt noticed my presence in the house at such an odd hour of the day and tried to talk to me. I ignored her as I was still seething. My phone rang. It was my mother. I told her in detail about the incident, and she advised me to count my teeth before I said anything unpleasant to anyone else. She encouraged me to come home to Abuja for a bit and decide if I wanted to go back to Lagos. Once I was off the phone with her, my phone rang, it was Babajide. I let the call go unanswered. He should go to hell. He and his mother and their stupid job. I hope they all burn in hell!
My phone started ringing again. I checked and hissed. It was him again. What would it take to make him understand that I didn’t want anything to do with him and his family anymore? Yes, we fooled around, but that was it. Thank God, I hadn’t fallen flat on my face in love with him before this happened, I would have been more devastated. So far, I could say that what I had for him was attraction, both sexually and…you know. That wasn’t a big deal. I could work on forgetting him totally.
Ignoring the numerous calls from him and some of my colleagues, I busied myself with movies. I was in my room watching my third movie when a knock came through and one of our domestic helps announced that I had a visitor. Reluctantly, I got up from the bed, headed downstairs and froze when I reached the sitting room.
It was Babajide. He had driven all the way to my house to do what? I didn’t know if it was the fact that he was so at home in my house, or that he was chatting with my aunty like nothing happened, that infuriated me more. But I swore I was boiling from inside.
“What are you doing here?”
My aunt looked at me dressed in one of my house boubou, with my hair tied into a knot at the top of my head.
“Latasha, that’s not how to greet a guest, and you know it,” my aunt said.
I lost my cool at that point.
“Aunty, is it because I got home and I didn’t tell you what these uncouth people accused me of? Then his mother went on to call me a bastard and a prostitute? In addition to calling me a thief?” I retorted, then turned my attention to Babjide.
“What are you doing here, Babajide? Or have you people found the money?”
“I am sorry, Latasha. I came to make sure you were okay. A lot happened earlier today. I should have protected you.”
“No, Jide, I should never have been accused or insulted in the first place.”
EIGHT
Heading back to Abuja was the next course of action. Lagos had nothing but stress and traffic to offer me. I came, I saw and it conquered me. I was sure I wasn’t supposed to live in Nigeria, with the way two of the major cities had defeated me. It was like it didn’t matter where; I couldn’t win at all.
I had been home for three weeks and had blocked Jide on all platforms. He had even tried emailing me on my personal email. He must have got my email address from HR because I never gave it to him. The decision to finally let go of everything about him was a hard one, but I needed my sanity in all of the madness.
I had decided not to go back to work, but to restart my office shoes business. I got busy restocking and setting up my old backdrops in the spare room in my parents’ house to create my content for social media. In less than no time, as if God was compensating me for all I’d been through, business started looking up. I was making sales, even getting wholesale orders. I’d begun considering traveling to China if the trajectory continued. That way, I would increase my profits and expand the business.
My dad kept telling me he wanted to invest in my business. I told him I didn’t need it, and asked him to focus on my younger siblings. He teasingly called me his phoenix. Seriously, I felt like a phoenix. The world wasn’t against me after all. I had one thing going good for me. One thing I could call mine, that nobody would take that from me or accuse me of stealing.
Days kept looking up as I worked hard to keep my customers happy. Then, one Saturday, after we had just finished having our lunch of delicious oha soup with pounded yam made by my mother, our house-help informed us that we had visitors.
My dad announced that it was Aunty Ann from Lagos. She was the one I stayed with, and I wondered why she was in Abuja. She would have called ahead of time to tell me.
“Aah yes, Ann mentioned she would be in town today. I think she wanted to surprise you ladies,” my dad said, motioning for the help to let her into the house.
As I got up to greet her and prepare some refreshments, I noticed she was not alone. Babajide was with her and so were his folks. I looked across the room and began to back away. My dad noticed my reticence and called me out on it.
“Latasha, wait, you need to hear him out.”
“What are they all doing here? He should have called.” I pointed at Babajide.
“Tasha, you blocked me everywhere. I didn’t know what else to do, so I went to see Aunty Ann, and she agreed to bring us here.”
“Please, welcome our guests before we interrogate them,” my father said.
I greeted his mother and father, ushering them into our modest living room. And reluctantly, at my mother’s nudge, I walked to the kitchen to get them some water and drinks.
As soon as I placed the tray in front of them, my father pointed at the seat beside him, asking me to sit.
Babajide’s father spoke first. “We are here for two things. First, my wife would like to apologize to Latasha, and Jide has things he would like to express.”
Mrs. O went first. “Latasha, I am sorry. We watched the video from the event a week later and realized my daughter-in-law left the bag somewhere else. I wish I could take back everything I said about you. I am sorry I terminated your employment in the heat of the moment. You can have your job back with an increase in pay.”
“Thank you, but no, thank you. I am not interested.”
“We are willing to double your salary,” Mr O. interjected.
I shook my head. “It has nothing to do with money. I restarted my business, and it is doing well. More so, Lagos is not the place for me. No offense, Aunty Ann, but that place is a jungle.”
Jide’s father began to speak. “All is well. We are here for multiple reasons. Jide has indicated to us that he would like to settle down with you. We figured we would kill two birds with one stone.”
I looked at all three of them, shaking my head in disbelief.
My dad spoke up, “Settle down, how?”
I pursed my lips together, and my mom came to sit beside me. It was a protective move on her part. She held my hand as we all waited for a response. Jide rose to his feet, subsequently prostrating before my father. Yoruba doings, I guess.
Mr O. spoke. “We have come to start the process of asking for Latasha’s hand in marriage. My son has indicated that he is in love with her. According to him, it was love at first sight.”
Love at first what? How. We had an attraction and had sex. And I had imagined him saying that he loved me. But…he never said that openly to me. I wasn’t even sure of his feelings. Or was he really in love with me?
Auntie Ann came to sit next to my mother.
“Tasha, if I didn’t vet him, we wouldn’t be here. Give the young man a chance to prove he can be the man you need him to be.”
“It is up to Latasha,” my dad said. “But let me warn you, if she agrees, no one will insult or abuse my daughter. The decision is hers to make.”
Babajide spoke from his position on the floor, “Please sir, can I talk to her privately?”
My dad nodded that it was okay. Babajide asked for permission to step outside, and I followed him.
“Jide, what is all this? Why did you really come all the way to Abuja?”
“Tasha, I miss you. I am in love with you. Please, if you would have me, I am ready to be the man you need. I will wait for you, and I will respect your desire to be celibate. I will marry you today if you let me. I also knew the right thing to do was to make sure my mom apologized to you before pushing for anything else between us. And I will move to Abuja.”
My broken heart leaped for joy on several accounts. My conviction was strong about Jide being a kind person. I didn’t need anyone to tell me he was a good man that would be respectful of me. I needed him to sweat a bit, though.
“I will pray about it and let you know.”
He nodded and took my hand, kissing the inside of my palm.
“Jide, don’t do that, before you get me back on fornication express,” I lamented.
“We are never getting back on fornication express unless you want to. I prefer we do it legally. Take all the time you need. God will lead you back to me. I have faith that he really will.”
I smiled. “Let’s take it slow. If we are meant to be, God himself will show us the signs. I am not in a hurry to end up in another situation after the disaster that I went through.”
He nodded, then planted a soft kiss on my cheek. “I’ll wait until you’re ready,” he said. “You’re worth the wait, my dear.”
My heart soared, glad to hear that he was willing to go on this new journey with me. “And so are you.”
Leading him back into the sitting room to join the rest of the family, I could feel his grip on my hand tighten, a silent reminder of the hope we both held for the future.
Also, by Mosunmola K. Rose
Hurricane Series (Best read in order, but can be read alone)
Hurricane December
North Love
Failed Revenge
Not Today Satan
Thirty Fine
Stand-Alone Books
Ndidiamaka
Well-Seasoned
Legally Speaking
Frayed Edges
Ego Oyibo
Fyrefly
Fun-intended
Acknowledgements
Very special thanks ….
To everyone who has indulged me by encouraging my writing.
When I become famous, we can have a book club and have lunch as a group.
About the Author
I am a fun-loving, well-traveled woman who enjoys writing in her free time. I was “bred and buttered” in Lagos, Nigeria. I enjoy weaving the characters of my books together and telling stories – some imagined, some real. I am focused on telling stories that build healthy relationships that help people thrive and become less accepting of toxic ones. I enjoy creating tales with a touch of black love that I deliver with a sense of humor and ridiculousness that are uniquely mine. In my real life, I am a planning and strategy professional that helps small to large businesses, a teacher of sorts, a Mama of twin daughters, and a very lucky man’s wife. I am also a doctor of letters!
I am a sucker for healthy love and romance!
You can contact Mosunmola on social media or via email:
@mosunmola_rose
XOXO,
August 2024