As Michael drove the car, Amara kept glancing at him at intervals, wondering what he was doing.
Did he like her?
She shook her head.
No. That didn't make sense. Why would he like her? What was there to like about her?
What did he want? Why was he following her to the market? Did his mother ask him to?
"Amara, what are you thinking about?" Michael asked when he glanced at her and saw her staring at him.
"Nothing. Your mother called me this morning. She said your sister told her about the Netflix profile, and she asked if we were getting along."
Michael chuckled, remembering the phone call with his sister and the series of WhatsApp messages and voice notes she had sent him after he ended the call.
"What did you tell her?"
Amara shrugged. "I said yes."
"So, was that what you were thinking about?"
"I wasn't thinking about anything," she lied as she took out her phone to see if his mother had sent the money.
She frowned when she saw the alert of three hundred thousand naira.
Three hundred thousand? For what? What kind of lace and materials did she have in mind?
She turned on her data and opened WhatsApp to send her a message, but saw that she had already sent her a message.
[I sent you three hundred thousand. You can use two hundred to buy the materials and the things you need to sew. The lace doesn't have to be very expensive. The remaining hundred is for you. You can send money home and keep some for yourself. Let me know if the two hundred is not enough for the clothes.]
Tears gathered in Amara's eyes as she read the message. Why was this woman being so good to her? What did she do to deserve such kindness?
She quickly typed a long message thanking the woman and praying for her, and when she was done, she looked up and frowned when she saw Michael driving into a plaza.
Amara raised a brow. "Why are you stopping here?"
"I want to pick some things. Come with me," he said as he parked the car and got out.
Amara got down and followed him as he headed for a boutique. "What do you want to pick?"
Michael did not respond to her question until they entered the boutique and were welcomed by the salesgirl.
"Good morning, sir. Good morning, ma," the sales girl greeted pleasantly.
"Good morning. Did your madam tell you I was coming?" Michael asked, and the girl nodded, smiling at Amara.
Michael sat on the only couch in the store and looked at her, "Pick some clothes."
Amara blinked, sure she had heard him wrong. "I don't understand."
Michael leaned back on the couch and folded his arms, looking at her with a small smile.
"I want you to pick up some clothes for yourself—something for church and our hangouts," he said patiently, like he was talking to a kid.
Hangouts? Multiple? She wondered, not missing the 's' he added to it.
"Hangouts?"
Michael's lips tugged into a slow smile. "Yeah. Hangouts," he said slowly, staring at her without saying more than that.
Amara felt her throat go dry. Her heart beat fast in her chest as she held his gaze for a moment, while the salesgirl in the shop looked from one to the other.
Amara looked away from Michael and turned to the clothes on the rack beside her. Her fingers touched the soft fabric, but she wasn't really seeing it.
She was wondering what was going on between them. She didn't get it. She couldn't understand it. If it were another guy, she'd be sure he was hitting on her, but this was Michael.
Pastor Michael. He couldn't be pulling such moves on her.
"You already got me clothes," she pointed out quietly.
"Not the kind of clothes I expected you to get. And that was meant for you to wear for your stay at the Hotel. Now you have a house. If you're joining the choir, you need clothes. I'm sure you didn't think of that when you got the clothes." Michael replied. His voice was calm. "You need shoes, too."
Amara bit her lip. "You've done more than enough already. I can't possibly accept this." She gestured around the boutique. "You should have asked me first…"
Michael smiled again. "I knew you'd refuse if I asked you. But we are here now. Just pick something else, we'd just stay here until you do."
She still didn't move. "Can we talk in the car?"
"We will have more than enough time to talk in the car on our way to the market and back. For now, pick something…"
Amara turned to the salesgirl, "Can you excuse us for a minute?"
The salesgirl, who had been pretending not to hear their conversation, nodded and stepped out of the store.
Amara turned to Michael, "What are you doing?"
"Buying you clothes."
"Why are you buying me clothes?" Amara asked with a frown, even though what she really wanted to ask him was if he liked her.
She wanted to ask if he was hitting on her, but couldn't bring herself to because she didn't want him to think less of her if that wasn't the case, and she also didn't want to feel disappointed if he said no.
"Because I want you to look nice. You look nice already, but I want you to dress nicely for church and our hangouts," he said easily.
"Why?" she asked, her voice lower. "Why do you care whether I look nice anywhere?"
He looked at her for a moment and then sighed. "Do I need to have a reason to care? You accepted a phone from my Mom, and she paid your rent. Did you ask her any of these questions? Why is accepting clothes from me such a big deal? Besides, it's not like it's the first time I'm getting you clothes. So, why are you making it a big deal?"
Why did it seem like he wanted to be in her life in a way that went beyond kindness? Amara looked away but didn't say anything.
"Look at it like an investment. I know you will blow one day. When you blow, you can pay me back," he said in a teasing tone, and she smiled hesitantly.
"Instead of wasting money to buy such pricey clothes, I can buy materials and make nice clothes for myself," she said, and Michael looked at her.
"Is that what you prefer?" He asked, and she nodded.
"Okay. Why don't you pick one or two that you can wear when we go out on Sunday, since we are here already? Then when we go to the market, you can buy the materials you want," he suggested.
Amara held his gaze for a moment, then stepped outside to call the girl back inside.
"But you'll pick shoes and handbags, right? Or you sew shoes and handbags, too?" Michael asked, and Amara laughed.
The salesgirl cleared her throat softly and said, "We have some nice new arrivals. You can look around, aunty."
Amara glanced at her, then back at Michael. He was watching her with an unreadable expression.
Still unsure, she walked over to one of the racks and picked up a pretty black dress that she could wear to church or a date. Hangout.
"This one is nice," she said quietly, holding it up to show Michael.
Michael smiled. "Good. Pick two more and the shoes and bags."
She picked a light blue blouse with flower details and a black trousers that looked like they would go with anything.
"That's one, not two. Pick something else," he said, and she sighed, wondering if the pharmacy paid him so much that he had so much money to throw around.
Amara opened her mouth to protest, but Michael raised a brow, and she sighed, deciding not to argue anymore.
"Why don't you pick the last one?" She suggested, wanting to see his taste in clothes.
Michael smiled as he rose and walked around the shop, looking through the racks.
After a moment, he pulled out a pretty red one-shoulder bodycon dress with drawstrings at both sides.
Amara raised a surprised brow as she looked at the dress. It didn't look very born again.
"I can't wear that to church," she pointed out.
"Yeah. But you can wear it when we go out after church," he said, making her heart skip a beat.
Why would he want her to look that way for their outing? "Okay."
"The shoes and the bags," he said, and Amara went on to keep a couple of them.
Michael nodded in approval, then turned to the salesgirl. "Please pack those."
They stepped out of the boutique some minutes later, two branded paper bags in Michael's hand while Amara held one.
As they returned to the car, she looked at the bags with a frown. "I still think it's too much. And they're unreasonably expensive," she muttered.
Michael chuckled. "Next time, I'll buy them myself and deliver to you."
"I won't accept it. Don't try it."
After putting the bags in the backseat, Michael grinned and opened the passenger door for her. "Try me."
She got into the car and buckled her seatbelt. "So this was the reason you wanted to follow me to the market?" She asked as he got into the car.
Michael just laughed and closed the door.
"Seriously, you didn't have to buy all this."
Michael turned to look at her. "In time, you'll understand, don't worry."
"Understand what?"
"Understand everything." He started the car and headed to the market.
"It's like you make a lot of money from the pharmacy."
Michael chuckled. "That's not the only thing I do. I'm into forex trades and crypto."
She smiled. "That means you're a big man. If you had told me earlier, I'd have picked more clothes," she joked.
Michael laughed. "It's not too late. We can still turn back."
"I can never turn back o. It's already too late o. It won't make sense o," Amara sang, making him laugh.