𝐎𝐜𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐁𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐞

Chapter Twenty -One

.........................................................

Imani opened the door of Matthew's room one Friday evening, two weeks after he'd left for Italy and a few days after he got back into the country. He hadn't spoken to her since he got back; Imani missed those days they spoke on the phone. Matthew had sounded vulnerable, like he'd needed to talk to her to get through those rough days in the hospital. She had loved that side of him; the Matthew she had known before that visit had been impregnable, powerful to the point of untouchable; she wondered whether he now hated her for allowing her to see that side of him, the part that spoke of his childhood, of the priest that was more of a parent to him, the friends that he grew up with.

Though he hadn't said much about them, he had said enough for her to understand he had more than a liking for them.

Imani sat down on his couch, unwinding her hair to feel it tumble around her shoulders. She was nervous and unsure of what she wanted. Ben, the hotel manager, had told her Matthew had said he would be at the club by 0530, but it was almost 0630, and no sign of him. Her fingers trembled when she ran them through her curly hair, her face perfectly made with a light purple lipstick, her toes looking beautiful in the same shade.

She wanted to see him and craved him even, but another part didn't want him to come. She felt unready to meet him physically and emotionally; their relationship had taken a turn in the last few weeks. She knew more about him than he knew about her, and something told her this couldn't work; he would demand to know about her, which meant their breakup would be sooner rather than later.

A few minutes to seven in the evening, he showed up. He looked great, not like a man who'd spent days fearing losing the only person he really loved.

Opening the door, Matthew stepped in, his eyes immediately spotting her on the couch. They stared at each other, her eyes going wide with shock at first before slowly running her gaze over his face. He gently closed the door and then leaned on the back with his eyes still staring at her as if he hadn't seen her for months instead of a few weeks.

"You look good," he said, touching his lips with the tip of his tongue, looking ravenous—like he wanted to eat her up; he couldn't seem to stop looking at her. He stood there taking her in, her round, smooth face, beautiful eyes but unsure stared back, curls falling over her shoulders.

She was breathtaking, and he wanted her.

Imani didn't speak, nor did she know what to say. She looked her fill too—his tall frame suited up in black,  a white shirt, and a black tie. He looked perfect, with no hair out of place. She asked herself, perhaps for the hundredth time, what she was doing with a man like him.

"Hi," his voice though uneven, was soft. Suddenly, Imani averted her gaze with a nod and a soft hallo of her own. The room felt cold and warm at the same time—silent, but for their breathing; Matthew continued to look at her now bowed head, lost in the moment of being in the same room with her, trying hard to keep his emotions from breaking out and pinning her on that same couch like he had imagined countless of times since they met.

"I missed you," that had her snapping her head up, her eyes filled with the pleasure she couldn't hide, and her mouth slightly opened in shock.

He had decided to be open with her after spending days listening to her comforting voice. If he were to have only four months with her, he would damn well give it his all.

Share his days with her. Tell her about his childhood, friends, and every new and old thing in his life.

"I thought I wouldn't see you today." She sounded vexed, and Matthew chuckled, still looking at her as if he found her adorable, which he did.