CHAPTER 11
Christian knew when someone needed space, so he stayed quiet as he drove them to his house. The place was big and alive—a stark contrast to Brenda's own home. Outside, a vibrant lawn bloomed with white, pink, and red roses, marigolds, and hibiscus flowers, their colors vivid beneath the soft afternoon light. A mat at the door read, "WELCOME HOME."
Inside, a small black boy was playing gently with an elderly woman.
"Mrs. Rowan!" Christian called.
"Christian... you're back early today!" she said, rising to greet him with a warm hug.
The woman turned to Brenda.
"Brenda, this is Mrs. Rowan—Elijah's nanny. And Mrs. Rowan, this is Brenda, my very close friend."
They shook hands, and Mrs. Rowan's eyes softened despite Brenda's red-rimmed gaze.
"You're so beautiful."
"Thank you! You don't look bad yourself!" They both laughed lightly.
Elijah, the boy, ran up and hugged his father tightly. Brenda marveled at the child—dark skin glowing against striking snowy green eyes, a rare and breathtaking shade somewhere between green and grey.
The boy darted back to his toys, and Christian motioned for Brenda.
"Let's go upstairs."
He led her to a spacious, cozy room.
"You need to rest. You've cried yourself out—it's better if you sleep for a while."
He left her to settle in.
The room was calming; Brenda took a warm shower, then slid beneath the soft blankets and surrendered to deep, comfortable sleep.
Hours later, she woke slowly, the first thing she saw was Elijah staring at her face.
She screamed—startled—and Elijah screamed back.
"You scared me!" she laughed, still catching her breath.
"You scared me too!" the boy replied softly.
"What's your name?"
"Elijah! What's yours?"
"Brenda."
He stretched out his hand, and she shook it warmly.
"Dad told me to check if you're awake so we can eat."
"Okay, I'll be there!"
He ran out, leaving Brenda to glance at her clothes—too formal for this relaxed place.
Opening the wardrobe, she found it filled with Christian's clothes. She pulled out a white shirt and green shorts that surprisingly fit perfectly and headed downstairs.
Laughter echoed from the living room—Christian and Elijah playing.
Christian caught sight of her and smiled warmly.
"Looks like you got comfortable."
"Oh, I'm sorry. I couldn't wear mine… I'll get them dry cleaned for you!" Brenda's cheeks flushed with embarrassment.
"No worries. You look good. Want to join us?"
She took a seat and began eating.
"Are you daddy's friend?" Elijah asked, eyes wide.
Brenda nodded.
"Are you going to move in with us?"
Christian chuckled, curious.
"What makes you think that?"
"I saw on TV that when a man and woman are friends, they go to restaurants, then move in together, then get married!"
Brenda choked on her shrimp. She glanced at Christian, who was grinning from ear to ear.
"If God wills it, it might just happen," he said with a wink.
They finished eating, and Christian tucked Elijah into bed before returning to the kitchen.
"So, what was that at the office? What happened?"
They hadn't talked about it yet, but the moment had come.
"It's nothing. But it made me realize something important." Brenda pursed her lips, hesitant.
"If you say so. But if you ever need a friend, or someone to talk to, I'm here."
He placed his hand gently on her thigh.
"What's the time?" she asked, shifting uneasily.
"Half past nine."
"Shit! It's late—I've got to go."
She rose to leave, but Christian pulled her back, his chest pressing against hers.
"I was hoping… you'd stay the night."
Brenda's mind raced with uncertainty, but one thing was clear—she wasn't going anywhere.
She agreed.
They went upstairs to the room she'd rested in.
Sitting on the bed, Christian poured scotch from a clear bottle.
"Belair scotch!" Brenda said, pride lighting her eyes as she caught the familiar scent.
"How did you know?"
"I made the first bottle. I wrote the recipe and ingredients," she smiled softly.
He passed her a glass.
"I've never had Belair scotch before."
"What? You've never tasted your own scotch? How's that possible? How did you make it?" Christian asked, genuinely amazed.
"When I finished college, I went to the Philippines, hoping to act, but I couldn't—probably because of my skin. The locals were kind and loved their liquor. They made their own whiskey. I watched them closely, learned their methods. One day, I made my own bottle. I gave it to a local, Mr. Bonifacio. He took a sip, smiled wide, and hugged me. He called friends over, and they all agreed—it was the finest Scotch they'd ever tasted. I thought they were just being polite, so I took twelve bottles to Manila for testing. The feedback was positive, and I launched it. It quickly took over the market."
"Wow. You should really try it—it's fantastic!"
Brenda shook her head, afraid she might get drunk and cause a scene.
"I'm going to shower."
She slipped into a gown after, but Christian stayed in the room. They spoke quietly for a while after she was done.
"It's been a long day. Time to call it a night. Goodnight."
"You're not staying here?"
"No, I'll sleep in the other room."
"Why? This bed's big enough for both of us."
"I know, but I'll still take the other room."
He almost reached the door when Brenda dropped her gown to the floor—naked.
"Christian, turn."
He spun around, eyes locked on her.
Brenda stepped closer, and he met her halfway.
His lips brushed hers softly.
His fingers traced down her hips, lifting her into his arms.
She wrapped her legs around him.
They fell onto the bed, kissing passionately.
Brenda began undressing him—he was down to his boxers.
She reached to pull them down when Christian stopped her.
"I can't do this."
He pulled away, frustration shadowing his face.
"What's wrong?" she whimpered.
He shook his head, unable to answer.
"This isn't normal," Brenda snapped, anger and disappointment surfacing.
"Are you gay?"
"No, I'm not."
"Then why? No straight man comes this far just to stop midway."
Silence.
"I wanted to go home, but you stopped me. You kissed me, made me feel something, then backed out. What the hell is going on?"
Her voice cracked with hurt.
She wasn't in the mood anymore. Brenda turned from him, shut her eyes tight, forcing herself to sleep while cussing under her breath. Christian lay beside her, but all night long, he kept sliding his hand around her waist, which she kept pushing away.
Morning came. Christian woke up — Brenda wasn't there. She had already gone.
Back at her house, she was on the phone.
"So who is it going to be?"
"It's obviously not going to be Kai!"
"You better be sure about that Christian guy though. We don't want a second instalment of Kai."
"Nella, I gotta go, someone's at the door... love you!"
Kai was at the door. She opened it and let him in.
"You look good!" he told her.
"Thank you! You look good too... I see Simone is putting in the work."
She laughed at her own words.
"Belair, I miss you!"
"You miss me or the fucking we do?"
"The way you put it is so... singular! I miss both!" he replied.