“Thanks.” I nodded coolly. “I thought you’d forgotten.” I don’t know why I said that. I didn’t want to come off as argumentative.
He shook his head softly. “You’re having my baby; of course I know your date of birth. There’s nothing I’ve forgotten about you.”
Stenton angled his neck as his eyes studied the crease of my lips. I knew this from the very first day we met. He’d always found fascination with them. He broke down and told me after we parted ways that first summer.
I yanked my head away, suddenly bashful by his attention. Not only that, I was growing aroused under his gaze. I had to gain a hold of myself around him. I didn’t want him to be reminded that he chose not to be with me. Thankfully, we were interrupted by the waiters serving appetizers that I didn’t order.
As I lifted my fork to decide what I would start with, Stenton informed, “I went with the chef’s menu. I hope you enjoy.”
I wasn’t hungry at all. Not only had I just come from dinner with family and friends, but I had no appetite around this man. I didn’t like that I was sitting across from who was once my best friend, Stent. I was having dinner at, no doubt, a five star restaurant with the Stenton Rogers, three-time MVP Awardee and four-time NBA Championship holder. I mean, he was sitting right there, just a stone’s throw away. I could smell his alluring fragrance and admire his fresh haircut and curly top. His collage of tattoos were hidden underneath the fabric of his clothing, but his full lips looked almost pink against his cinnamon complexion.
“I got the last images of the ultrasound,” he shared with a mouthful of food. “I can’t believe how pronounced his features are now compared to the last one.” I could hear the glee in his voice even as he chewed.
“Yeah,” I nodded. “Can’t miss that wide nose that we can agree he gets from his daddy.”
Stenton let out a boisterous laugh. “Yeah, I thought the same thing when I saw it. So, he’ll have his dad’s schnoz. He could’ve gotten passed on a lot worse.” In a flash, I saw the melancholy in his eyes. Attempting to brush past it, he asked, “So, you’ll be seven months next week. Have you started thinking of any names yet?” His eyes rose to meet mine.
He’d kept up with my pregnancy. Whoa!
I sighed as I played with the food in my plate. “Oh, I don’t know. I’ve thought some about it. It’s just a huge call to make alone.” I chanced a glance at Stenton, who, when he realized I’d gotten quiet, peered up at me. “Do you have any ideas?” I threw back to him.
He steeled in his seat for a few seconds then shrugged. “I don’t know. You may not want to leave such a weighty decision to me. All I know is ballin’. I’ll fuck around and name him Jordan,” he snorted.
I chuckled into my plate. “As in the Michael Jordan?”
“As in the legend Michael Jordan,” Stenton corrected.
“Not that I’d have a problem with it, but his dad is already a legend in his own right,” I murmured while training my eyes to my plate.
Through my peripheral, I saw Stenton’s head shoot up, but I didn’t react. I pretended to cut through my food, unperturbed. We ate in silence for a moment or two. Before long, Stenton cleared his plate, prompting the waiter to our table. I offered my plate as well, not being able to fit anything else in considering what was ahead.
We finally made it to our main course. Stenton must have noticed that I wasn’t taking in much, so had the waiter when he came over.
“Is everything to your satisfaction, ma’am?”
I noticed Stenton’s inquisitive gaze immediately. I fought through my nerves to pat my belly.
“Full house in here. Can’t fit a five course in anymore. More like a two,” I joked sheepishly.
“I can wrap this to go if you’d like,” the waiter offered.
Braving a glance at Stenton, I answered, “Sure. That would be great.”