Page 20 of Counting His heartbeats

An uncontrollable moan escapes my lips, catching me off guard and causing me to shift in my seat from the way Jawaan's words glide over me. The seat of my panties is moist, and my mouth is drying by the minute, causing my heart to beat erratically.

Damn!

"Mhm," Jawaan says before breaking our eye contact and returning to a silent Herschel. "I've let the hostess know to makeyour meal to go. I'll see to it that Ms. Zurmani gets home. You can go now."

Hold on. Did he ju?—

"Excuse me," Herschel objects, frowning deeply.

"No need. With this being the Lord's day and all, I would hate to be the reason your next meal comes by way of the dieticians at Shadow Stew Memorial," Jawaan says.

"Wow. I ain't nev?—"

"Oh, I know. You never had a clue how to handle a woman like this, which is what pisses me off more than anything else. By the way, if you're gonna recite scripture to a potential love interest, next time go with Song of Solomon 8:6," Jawaan advises while staring intently at me.

The scraping, huffing, and murmurs tell me Herschel is leaving the table, but my eyes are on Jawaan.

"This is the second time I've stumbled on you breaking bread with someone who wasn't me. Only this time, your blank eyes begged me to intervene even while I was standing near the entrance."

I'm unable to deny or disagree with Jawaan's statement because boredom had been a heavy emotion during my entire encounter with Herschel. I'm also not surprised that Jawaan saw me because Herschel insisted that the hostess sit us at a table near the front. It was weird, and I felt like I was on display while sitting at one of the tables in the center. Jawaan's frown makes me feel like I did something wrong, causing me to attempt to fix the problem I can't quite pinpoint.

"I'm sorry," I quietly release.

"No need. Why do you think I sang that particular song? God dropped it in my spirit, leading me to rescue you. I just hope this is the last time. What's good here?" Jawaan asks, picking up the menu on the plate before him.

It takes my brain a minute to register and catch up with Jawaan's words, causing me to sit still while processing the last five minutes. Jawaan isn't a stranger, so breaking bread with him won't be uncomfortable, especially since I no longer have to deal with the likes of Herschel.

"Oh, hello. What can I get for you?" the server walks up with wide eyes, looking back and forth between Jawaan and me.

"I'll have whatever my lady is having. I had to pull down on her and the wannabe attempting to convince her he's God's best. Since God doesn't play about me, I had to let him and her know what it is," Jawaan explains, smirking.

"All right," the server says, showing all thirty-two teeth.

Lady, please don't encourage him any further than he is.

The Next Day

"I'm happy to see you here today, Jawaan. When you weren't on my schedule, I assumed you had changed your mind about therapy."

"Nah, I've been busy finding other ways to cope with life, so my time has been limited. However, I want to put forth the work necessary to be whole."

"I'm glad to hear that. Tell me what's been going on lately," Letitia says, crossing her left leg over her right before readying her pen.

My mind automatically shifts to the doe-eyed woman with stylish frames, full natural curls, and an irresistible smile. Seeing Zurmani at the restaurant last night gave me an answer to what led to my detouring the semi-full parking lot for the eatery. I had left my house to drive around the city without a destination before something told me to go inside the restaurant. The lame dude sitting across from Zurmani wearing a plaid suit jacket with bug eyes had me shaking my head. The longer I stood at the restaurant entrance watching their exchange, the more my mind shouted for me to save Zurmani. When the old-school song by Karen Clark Sheard invaded my thoughts, my feet moved on their own accord.

"Is it possible to fall in love with a woman you know is too good for you?" I ask.

My mind has been wrestling with the notion of my being in love with Zurmani since noting the lack of her perfume on Little Man's body. I'm about as addicted to Zurmani's fragrance as I am to the new baby scent that invades my nostrils the second I hold Little Man.

"Anything's possible. Tell me about her," Letitia requests, shifting my thoughts back to the present conversation.

A boyish grin, which I'm unable to prevent, upturns my lips, and my pulse increases when Zurmani's image flashes in my mind. For the next fifteen minutes, I go through the ordeal of how and where I met Zurmani. A small smile forms on Letitia's lips while recanting what's been going on with me lately.

"The bright shift of your countenance while talking about Ms. Zurmani reminds me of how my husband looks when speaking about me," Letitia notes.

"Was your husband also terrified of pursuing her because he worried the stains within his past could cause her pain?"

The memory of me sitting in the hotel in Columbus seconds from ending my life shoves the image of Zurmani out of the way, instantly dampening the exhilaration I was feeling. Deciding to live meant I would never speak about what I was about to do. No one but me and God will ever know, yet the memory of it has me unsure if I want to involve Zurmani in the disdain I often find myself dealing with.

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