Page 62 of Serenity

“He’s not my dad.”

The flight attendant’s face crumpled with understanding and embarrassment. One hand and then another, she covered her mouth.

“I’m so sorry.”

“Maybe you should stick to formality instead of assumptions,” I suggested, feeling the orange undertone of my cheeks crimson.

She scurried away after taking Duke’s request for water. Unfazed, her comment hadn’t bothered him. I couldn’t say the same for me. His hand fenced around mine once she was gone, though he said nothing. Words weren’t required. Words were hardly required. In the short span of our time together, he’d become adept at gauging my moods. He knew I was pissed off.

The elevation of my body’s heat and the jittering of my nerves prompted me to seek the restroom to calm myself. Safely inside the privacy of the tiny lavatory, I dampened napkins and pressed them toward my face and chest in an attempt to cool my heated skin.

Dad.

It shouldn’t have upset me the way it did, but I was human, and my feelings were valid. Arguably, Duke gave off an addictively healthy masculine energy. From his ceaseless advice to his anecdotal stories, I would tease him and sometimes respond with “Yes, Dad.” Still, he was a far cry from any resemblance to a father seated beside me.

Maybe it was the grays in his beard. I loved that shit. Obsessed over it. Raked my fingers through it when we cuddled. But concerns about our relationship in the eyes of outsiders bloomed like weeds in unkept grass. Enjoying his company and sharing his happiness—those were things that kept the fruitless seeds at bay.

Once our world tour was over, those concerns about our age difference and other people’s opinions—namely, my family’s opinion—would still be there, waiting to be addressed.

Three raps against the restroom door shattered my blank stare in the mirror.

“Bee?”

“I’m—I’m coming,” I announced, fighting with the lock to open the door.

“You good, baby?”

“I’m okay,” I returned, finally getting the door open.

With his face cased in concern, the thick, bushy brows threatened to connect. “You sure?” He probed, pecking my lips.

“I’m fine,” I assured as we returned to our seats, though the sight of the flight attendant made me shift slightly.

Duke’s fingers interlocked with mine, bringing the back of my palm to his lips. “Don’t let that shit get to you.”

Without my speaking, he knew what weighed on my heart. He always knew. The intensity and authenticity of our connection couldn’t be denied. Permitting a stranger to disrupt that was senseless. Our connection didn’t need an explanation, nor did it require validation.

“Fuck her.”

He was right, but every time I saw the flight attendant, I was reminded of what awaited me at home. While I didn’t care what my family thought, their acceptance of Duke would give me ease in a world that was already seemingly against our union.

Why the fuck did people care? Why did it matter? Why were people so invested in business that didn’t concern them? Would my family react the same? They were questions that swirled endlessly, putting a damper on my mood.

The flight to Tamale could not have ended sooner. Relief to be freed from the confines of the small plane was evident in my hasty steps toward the exit. From Tamale, we met a tour guide who drove us on a two-hour ride to Mole National Park. On the drive, Duke hawked me relentlessly, concerned about my shift in mood.

“You look like you need an attitude adjustment,” he joked.

“Maybe,” I agreed, trying not to get too lost in my head.

Zaina Lodge was our final destination. For the two nights that we’d be at the park, the lodge’s chalets would be our sleeping place. Far from a typical lodge, the central area resembled a hotel. The accommodations were both contemporary and beautiful. A gorgeous dining area was erected above a 360 view of the savanna, complete with pool loungers overlooking an infinity pool.

The lodge itself was tranquil, disturbed only by the occasional sound of exotic birds. After a long morning getting my hair done and unexpected travel to Northern Accra, such a vibe was necessary.

Hand in hand, Duke, led by Biram, walked us around the facility before we finally retired to our resting place.

The amenities took me by surprise when Duke mentioned we were staying in a tent. Instantly, my mind thought of mosquitoes, bugs, and heat. Undeniable and sometimes unbearable, the heat and humidity in Ghana were.

Luxury shirked my expectations. The tent was nothing as I’d imagined. At my expense, Duke cleared a deep laugh as my jaw dropped upon seeing the “tent.”

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