occasion.”
“It was...we were celebrating your independence from your abuser.”
Tyson watched the downcast look take over her face.
“Speaking of Dilvan,” she said, “I think I will have to face him eventually.”
“Why you say that? You were unsure this morning.”
“Because after speaking with Padma about it, I realize I still may have feelings for him.”
“Oh ...” Tyson said, trying to conceal the frown in his forehead. How could she have feelings for a man who’d treated her so badly? Who’d stripped her of her dignity?
“And it’s not the feeling of missing him and wanting to be with him again. It’s the feeling of loss...of what we could’ve had. I keep thinking about how our life would be if he was good to me...we’d be happily married with two children. Instead I’m just a damaged , childless woman with no desire to ever be attached to a man again.”
Tyson cleared his throat by washing his food down with a long swig of wine. “You cannot keep dwelling on the past, Bri, or you’ll never see the present for what it is. Right now, we’re sitting here sharing a meal and you’re living in darkness. Look around, baby...this is not Dilvan Alexander’s house. This is Tyson Alexander’s home.”
Gabrielle smiled. “You’re right, Tyson.”
“Perfect. Now let me get dessert.”
CHAPTER 18
Gabrielle
- - -
Tyson gets up from the table to collect our plates. When he reaches in front of me to take my plate, I get a whiff of his mesmerizing cologne and his overall smell. He smells like a man – his scent reminds me of a rich, orangey, woodsy smell, mixed with shave cream or body wash. I’m truly spellbound.
“So, you ready for dessert, my lady?”
I snap out of my trance and look towards him. He’s heading back this way with dessert and two small plates. After he sets the plates on the table, he says, “I know you’re going to ask, so I’ll tell you what this is...puff pastries, filled with vanilla pudding, homemade of course, and topped with mixed berries.”
“Sounds delicious,” I say, then help myself to one of the pastries. Holding it like a cupcake, I take a big bite. Again, he’s made another delectable dessert. “Gosh...everything you make is a masterpiece.”
I watch him smile and finish his pastry in one huge mouthful. He has a healthy appetite and I realize he loves eating just as much as he loves cooking. After he finishes chewing, he says, “Thank you,” and smiles again.
How did I miss his gorgeous dimple before? It makes him even more adorable. “No...thank you for cooking this fabulous dinner.”
“You’re welcome as always.”
While I finish my first pastry dessert, he starts on another one, consuming it greedily, then smiles at me again.
“So I’ve bee n thinking,” he says. “After everything you’ve been through with my cousin, you need an outlet, you know, something to take your mind off of things.”
“ Well, I’m going to be working soon, so—”
“No, not work...something you enjoy...something that relieves stress.”
I think about it for a moment and when I can’t come up with anything, I ask, “What’s your outlet? Cooking?”
“No. Cooking is my hobby and how I make a living. ”
“Then what’s your outlet?”
“Every morning at 4:00 a.m., I get up to walk and jog on the beach.”
“Really?” I ask. Now I know how he stays so fit.
“Yes. It gives me time to think, to enjoy nature...to realize there’s something out there greater than me...helps me understand my purpose.”
“Maybe I should try that. Since you go at 4:00 a.m., I’ll wait until you get back and go around seven-ish.”
“Or you could just come with me.”
“Oh, no...I can’t interfere with your one-on-one time with nature.”
“You won’t. C ome with me...tomorrow morning. We’ll run together.”
I’m reluctant to go. If he’s been using this as his outlet for years, I really would hate to break his
“It was...we were celebrating your independence from your abuser.”
Tyson watched the downcast look take over her face.
“Speaking of Dilvan,” she said, “I think I will have to face him eventually.”
“Why you say that? You were unsure this morning.”
“Because after speaking with Padma about it, I realize I still may have feelings for him.”
“Oh ...” Tyson said, trying to conceal the frown in his forehead. How could she have feelings for a man who’d treated her so badly? Who’d stripped her of her dignity?
“And it’s not the feeling of missing him and wanting to be with him again. It’s the feeling of loss...of what we could’ve had. I keep thinking about how our life would be if he was good to me...we’d be happily married with two children. Instead I’m just a damaged , childless woman with no desire to ever be attached to a man again.”
Tyson cleared his throat by washing his food down with a long swig of wine. “You cannot keep dwelling on the past, Bri, or you’ll never see the present for what it is. Right now, we’re sitting here sharing a meal and you’re living in darkness. Look around, baby...this is not Dilvan Alexander’s house. This is Tyson Alexander’s home.”
Gabrielle smiled. “You’re right, Tyson.”
“Perfect. Now let me get dessert.”
CHAPTER 18
Gabrielle
- - -
Tyson gets up from the table to collect our plates. When he reaches in front of me to take my plate, I get a whiff of his mesmerizing cologne and his overall smell. He smells like a man – his scent reminds me of a rich, orangey, woodsy smell, mixed with shave cream or body wash. I’m truly spellbound.
“So, you ready for dessert, my lady?”
I snap out of my trance and look towards him. He’s heading back this way with dessert and two small plates. After he sets the plates on the table, he says, “I know you’re going to ask, so I’ll tell you what this is...puff pastries, filled with vanilla pudding, homemade of course, and topped with mixed berries.”
“Sounds delicious,” I say, then help myself to one of the pastries. Holding it like a cupcake, I take a big bite. Again, he’s made another delectable dessert. “Gosh...everything you make is a masterpiece.”
I watch him smile and finish his pastry in one huge mouthful. He has a healthy appetite and I realize he loves eating just as much as he loves cooking. After he finishes chewing, he says, “Thank you,” and smiles again.
How did I miss his gorgeous dimple before? It makes him even more adorable. “No...thank you for cooking this fabulous dinner.”
“You’re welcome as always.”
While I finish my first pastry dessert, he starts on another one, consuming it greedily, then smiles at me again.
“So I’ve bee n thinking,” he says. “After everything you’ve been through with my cousin, you need an outlet, you know, something to take your mind off of things.”
“ Well, I’m going to be working soon, so—”
“No, not work...something you enjoy...something that relieves stress.”
I think about it for a moment and when I can’t come up with anything, I ask, “What’s your outlet? Cooking?”
“No. Cooking is my hobby and how I make a living. ”
“Then what’s your outlet?”
“Every morning at 4:00 a.m., I get up to walk and jog on the beach.”
“Really?” I ask. Now I know how he stays so fit.
“Yes. It gives me time to think, to enjoy nature...to realize there’s something out there greater than me...helps me understand my purpose.”
“Maybe I should try that. Since you go at 4:00 a.m., I’ll wait until you get back and go around seven-ish.”
“Or you could just come with me.”
“Oh, no...I can’t interfere with your one-on-one time with nature.”
“You won’t. C ome with me...tomorrow morning. We’ll run together.”
I’m reluctant to go. If he’s been using this as his outlet for years, I really would hate to break his
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