Page 31 of The Wrong Reciprocation

They were right. Their advice was sound and she should absolutely listen to them.

However, leaving Arturo alone wasn’t something she could do. It was bad enough that she had spent weeks posting up in the break room every morning, waiting in vain for him to show up. That was all the time Twyla was willing to give him. She could acknowledge that her actions had violated him and that he was valid in wanting space from her. But even with all of that, Twyla knew that she simply wasn’t going to let him throw her away. When she said he was supposed to be hers, she’d meant that.

So, after another day at work without seeing him, she waited until he was likely to be home from the gym and drove over to his house. She parked in the drive way and walked up to the door of the home she’d only been in once. There was no way for her to know how he would react to seeing her on his porch, but she took the risk anyway and pressed the doorbell.

It took a minute—three, to be exact—but she finally heard the heavy click of the locks being disengaged just before the door opened wide. Arturo stared at her, his eyebrows meeting as he frowned. Just the sight of him made Twyla’s heartrate accelerate and her lips parted as she sighed. He stood there shirtless in mesh athletic shorts with black crew socks and slides on his feet. Her greedy eyes roved over him, drinking in his chiseled body and beautiful face. When he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the doorjamb, she blinked out of her reverie.

She hadn’t rehearsed this, didn’t have a speech planned, didn’t even have a plan at all. All she knew was that she wasn’t leaving without with him. No matter what it took. When it was clear that he wasn’t going to say anything, she decided to go for what she knew.

Stepping forward, she pressed herself against him, sliding her arms around his waist and pressing her forehead against his chest. Immediately, he crossed his arms and grabbed onto the door frame to prevent them from falling backward.

“What the hell, Twyla,” he muttered, sounding surprised and irritated.

With the barrier between them now gone, she turned her head until her cheek met his skin and hugged him tighter.

“You’re allowed to still be mad at me.” She felt his body stiffen at her words but she didn’t let that stop her. “You can be mad, hurt, annoyed, any and everything. But you’re gonna have to be that while I’m up under you.” Leaning her head back, she met his gaze. His face was blank but she was determined and unfazed.

“Take as long as you need, and I’ll whatever you need me to, as long as I’m right here with you while it happens. You’re right, I am selfish, but I didn’t go through all of that to end up without you so we’ll be doing this together.”

His eye twitched and his emotions began to creep onto his face. He was clearly conflicted but Twyla took that as a good sign.

“Are you asking me or telling me?”

She didn’t even hesitate. “Telling you.”

His nostrils flared. “So, your wants are the only ones that matter? Again?”

Her rebuttal sizzled on her tongue like a spoonful of bitter medicine. She should’ve anticipated a response like that, and likely would have had she planned out this trip. It was a fair retort, even if it hurt her feelings.

“Well,” she licked her suddenly dry lips. “I care about your wants if what you want is me, but if you want me gone then I’ll give you the address to the voodoo lady, cause I ain’t going nowhere without her help.”

His eyebrows shot up, then narrowed. He didn’t say anything as his eyes bored into her own. She had no idea what he was searching for but hoped he found it because she meant every word. He could close the door in her face and she’d get back in her car and pull up a YouTube video on how to break into a house. She’d gone her entire life allowing the wants of someone else to dictate what she did and now you could call her Cookie Lyon because she had to put herself first. Was it possible that she’d allowed the pendulum to swing too far in the opposite direction? Sure, but the reality of life was that drastic changes didn’t occur without drastic measures first taking place.

He moved then, reaching behind him to peel her arms from around his waist. Her heart pounded and blood rushed in her ears as he stepped backward, putting a couple feet of space between them. Twyla immediately began plotting which entrance she was going to try first when Arturo gripped the door with one hand and stood to the side. Her breath caught in her throat at the undeniable invitation inside. Biting her lip, she stared at him, holding his gaze, wanting to ask if he was serious but not wanting to give him room to tell her no.

In the end, she didn’t have to say a word. Arturo offered a slight jerk of his head behind him, silently beckoning her to cross the threshold into his living room. That was enough for her. Releasing a sigh of relief, she stepped inside. He closed and locked the door behind her then held his hand out. Linking her fingers with is, she followed behind him as he led her through the house, and as she stared at the tattoos on his broad back, she was so glad that she hadn’t listened to her well-meaning friends.