I’ve been attracted to Tanisha since we met. I think about her at random moments during my day. And a few nights when I haven’t been able to sleep, she’s come to mind as well.
More than a few.
Is that why I’m still searching through this folder? Because so far, I haven’t seen anything that addresses one particular issue that’s been on my mind for weeks.
In every other aspect, Tanisha has been very thorough, which begs the question, why was this left out? Why isn’t there an entire page with subsections
and appendices on the subject of what comes after the marriage ceremony?
Sex. There’s nothing in here about sex.
There should be something, shouldn’t there? Even if it’s only a single line that asserts there won’t be any, and it’s off the table. And don’t even ask.
Is it on the table?
I type out an email before I can stop myself.
To: Tanisha Chahal
From: Emerson Wayne
Subject: Relations
Would appreciate a lunch meeting tomorrow to discuss a certain omission in the agreement. How do you feel about enchiladas?
I hit send and instantly question my sanity. I am known for thinking before I act. Teased for it by my family. After Ro, I’ve been even more cautious when it comes to dating and intimacy. But based on this email, there can be no doubt where my mind has gone. Or that I’m thinking about this, even though I told her it was crazy.
It’s not an irrelevant question. Not once in her office today did she call her proposal a pretense or imply that it would be an in-name-only arrangement. Only that there was an optional no-fault escape clause after a year.
A year of living under the same roof with Tanisha Chahal. Of seeing her sleep-rumpled and soft in the mornings. Of talking to her every day. Being close enough to touch her.
She smelled like strawberries, citrus and spice.
I tug on the fabric of my uncomfortably tight pants and adjust myself in the chair. It’s been a while for me. But even if it hadn’t been, Tanisha is the kind of woman who would make me impatient. Restless. If she says no, it would be one hell of a hard year, in more ways than one.
From her shimmering lips to her flowing skirts, she is pure, undiluted female. Her skin reminds me of honey. Golden and warm and mouth-watering. I feel like a giant brute beside her. Strong. It’s good for my ego, I’m not going to lie.
But she stomped it back down to size again with her bank account, credentials and the courage it took for her to approach me with this in the first place.
It’s something for the history books. She proposed to me in her office over spiced tea. Chai. That’s not something that happens to a man every day.
“Dad?”
Lang is standing in the doorway of my office in his boxers and a t-shirt that’s already riding up his stomach like a crop top. Either his twelve-year-old body needs to take a break from growing or I need to sign him up with a shirt-of-the-month club.
“I thought you were supposed to be asleep,” I say. “It’s a school day tomorrow.”
“I woke up.”
When he gets closer, I see the baseball he’s squeezing in his hand. The one that Tanisha got for him. He loves that damn thing. And I know that he’s missing his team already.
“If you keep playing with that the signature’s going to wear off. Why did you wake up?”
He shrugs, trying to look at the papers on my desk. “You’re working?”
“I am.” I snap the folder closed and look at him over my glasses. “What’s the problem?”
“I think we should put lights up this year. Outside.”