Last updated on October 22nd, 2025 at 01:15 pm
That show in the hotel room? It wasn’t me. We’re driving to Joe’s house, and it hits me that it isn’t my territory,y unlike the hotel room. Now, I’m rethinking my decision. While I would absolutely love to see Joe’s home, I doubt I’m ready—maybe later in the day. I think of something we can do just to stall.
“Babe, can we go to the park? One of those parks that you like to go to.”
“Mama, we’re almost home.”
“Really? I thought it was still far.” I say, chewing my lip. He turns the car onto a street off the road.
“Wait, Angela, what’s wrong?” He asks. I don’t want him to have an idea, but I guess I am not subtle enough.
“Nothing na. I just want to see the park, can’t I see it?” I say defensively.
“Hmm. Okay, we can turn and head there.”
“No no.”
“What’s wrong, baby? You don’t want to see my house?” He looks at me with sincerity. My heart breaks.
“No, it’s not that.”
“Okay?” He parks on the roadside.
“Nothing.”
“We won’t go if you don’t want to.”
“I trust you, baby. I am fine with seeing your place. Let’s go.” He starts the car and we begin moving slowly. I think I see a smirk on his face, but when I look at him to confirm, he looks serious.
—
“Wow, I would say that you had the space cleaned up for me, but I know you enough to know that you are always cleaning this apartment,” I say to Joe, who is smiling. His countenance reminds me of our running game and I remind myself to stay alert.
“I cleaned it for you actually. I had to call my cleaning woman to assist.” He steps towards me and wraps his arms around me.
“You’re a neat freak.”
“Does that bother you?” He whispers into my ear, a normal question that should have been asked without this drama. He pulls me closer to his chest.
“No, it doesn’t.” I melt into his chest for a minute because it feels too good to resist. He pulls away almost immediately.
“Come here, I want to show you something.” He grabs his laptop and sits on the couch. “Come,” he taps his thigh. I try to sit beside him on the couch instead, but, anticipating my move, he pulls me onto his thighs and drops kisses on my shoulders. He gently lifts my legs and drops then on the couch so that my left shoulder leans on his chest. He drops the laptop on my thigh and tries to manoeuvre with his left hand but it’s inconvenient. “Turn to the other side, Sweetcakes.” He says softly, looking at me with an almost blank look. After a while, we are all adjusted and now, my right arm is over his left shoulder.
He opens a folder named “my love” on his laptop and double clicks on a picture out of many pictures. It’s an edited photo of me.
“I hope you love it, baby.” He pecks my collarbone and I zoom in on the picture. It’s one of me on the beach in Abuja, I was unaware. He came to the beach with his camera that day after his photoshoot session. We ended up taking a lot of pictures with him instructing me on what to do, but I didn’t realise that he had taken some of me unaware.
“I love it!” I answer excitedly. “You’re such a wonderful photographer.”
“It took me taking a picture of you to realise?” I almost don’t hear him as he continues to kiss my shoulders, alternating between a kiss and a soft beard scratch.
“No, it’s not that. I always assumed that you had all the equipment and your shoot sets were propped to give the best effect. This… this was a normal day, a normal weather. Seeing this outcome is…” I shake my head, finding the right words yet coming up with nothing.
“I understand, baby. There are more pictures.”
