Chapter Forty-two
Michael froze for a moment, completely taken aback by the sudden tears. Then, slowly, he stepped forward and gently touched her arm. "Hey… hey," he said softly. "Don't cry. What's wrong? Did something happen?"
Amara shook her head, still covering her face. Her shoulders trembled as she cried harder.
Although he was tempted to hug her, he didn't want to tempt himself. Standing inside her apartment alone with her was bad enough.
It wasn't like he had so little self-control that he'd jump on the bed with her if he touched her, but the Bible knew why it said let him that think he stand take heed lest he fall.
He didn't want to be overconfident in his ability to resist sin and give Satan an avenue to tempt him.
Michael waited patiently. He didn't rush her. He just stood there, his hand on her arm, his voice calm. "Talk to me. What's wrong?"
"I messed up," she whispered.
Michael frowned. "Messed up how? What did you do?"
She pulled her hands from her face, her cheeks wet with tears. "I don't know. The rice…"
Michael blinked. "The rice? What about it?" He wondered if she was crying so much because of the rice.
"It's terrible," she said quickly. "It's too soft. And some part is not cooked. But it's burning. I don't even know how all of that is possible."
Michael looked confused. "Wait. You're crying because the rice is not good?"
She nodded miserably. "Yes. I don't know what happened today. I don't know what to do. I thought maybe I should pour it away and say it fell. Or maybe go and buy Jollof rice and pretend it is what I cooked. But then I remembered all the money you spent, and I don't want to waste it."
"I see," Michael murmured even though he saw nothing.
He had been worried about her and thought that maybe she had received bad news from home, yet all the tears had been over badly cooked rice.
Michael pressed his lips together, trying not to smile or laugh even though he found the whole situation hilarious.
She sniffled. "I prayed. I cried. I searched online. One website said I should put bread inside. I've not bought bread to eat. Is it to put inside jollof rice? What if it does not work? Will both the rice and the bread now go to waste?"
Michael blinked again, then burst into laughter.
Amara looked at him in shock. "Why are you laughing?"
"I'm sorry," he said between chuckles. "I'm not laughing at you. I just didn't expect all that."
"It's not funny," she said as she turned away, upset that he was laughing.
Michael caught her hand. "Hey. Wait. Look at me."
She turned slowly but didn't meet his gaze.
Michael's gaze softened, and he smiled. "It's not a big deal. Some days we cook well, other days we miss. I don't think you should be so worked up over it. You don't have to cry over something like this. It's okay. You tried. Let's laugh over it."
"But I wanted it to be good," she said quietly. "Maybe God is punishing me for bragging in front of Sister Faith," she mumbled.
Michael chuckled. "I highly doubt that."
She lowered her gaze. "I've never cooked something so bad before."
He smiled gently, "How about you show me the rice?"
She bit her lip. "First, promise me that you won't laugh."
He tried to keep a straight face, though he was curious to see just how bad the rice was to have made her cry. "I will try not to."
"You're a pastor. If you laugh after saying you won't, you will go to hell," she muttered as she turned and led him to the kitchen.
The smell of burnt rice was faint in the air now. She lifted the pot lid slowly while staring at Michael.
Michael peeped inside. He nodded slowly as he looked at the rice, which looked like it had been mashed. "It's not that bad…"
She raised a brow. "You're lying."
He grinned. "Okay. It looks bad. But I'm sure it tastes better. Let's not judge a book by its cover."
She sighed. "It tastes just as bad."
Michael picked up the cooking spoon, scooped out some, then took a tablespoon to take a little from it.
Amara watched his face as he tasted it, and even though he tried not to let it show, she saw the subtle shift in his face as he tried to swallow it and not spit it out.
He looked at her with a blank face, "Okay. It's not very good…"
"Don't sugarcoat it. It's terrible," she said, and he smiled.
He glanced at the turkey she had fried and picked one with a fork. He bit into it and chewed slowly before smiling, "At least this is good."
"I forgot about that one," she said, relieved that the turkey came out okay.
"We can eat just the turkey or go out and buy rice. It's not a big deal."
She shook her head. "You can take all the turkey. I'll try to see a way to fix the rice so I'll eat it by myself."
"There's no way I'm going to let you eat that. We will throw it away," Michael said as he looked around the kitchen for one of the bagco bags from the market.
"That's too much waste. If the rice turned out this way at home, my mother would have killed me, and we still would have eaten it. I can't throw it away," she cried as Michael took one of the bags she had folded and stuck in the corner of the window protector in the kitchen.
Michael sighed softly as he looked at her, finally understanding the reason for her overreaction. "Amara, this is not your family's house. And I won't let you eat this," he said as he poured the rice into it.
"What are you doing?" Amara asked with wide eyes.
"Throwing it out since it's clear you don't want to do it. It's my money, abi? Technically, you prepared it for me. So, I will do what I want with it," he said as he washed his hands at her sink after packing the rice.
"I'm sorry I wasted your money," she said, still looking guilty.
"How much? It's not like it was even up to ten thousand naira. I've spent much more than that on food that I didn't even eat in restaurants." He picked up the bagco bag. "Freshen up, then bring the turkey to the pharmacy. I'll be waiting."
Amara opened her mouth to protest, but Michael was already walking away with the rice. "You can just carry it with you," she called after him, and he turned to look at her with a smirk.
"So you will lock yourself inside here and refuse to pick up my call or come out? Bring it to the pharmacy," he said before walking away.
Amara stood at the door long after Michael left, staring at the space he had just walked through.
She couldn't believe that he really threw the rice away, just like that.
She blinked, still trying to understand how a person could act so calm about something she had cried so much over.
It was his fault that the rice had been bad, anyway. If she hadn't been so distracted trying to figure out what he was doing, she would have been focused on what she was cooking.
She sighed as she walked back into the kitchen. She opened the pot and peeped inside, even though she already knew it was empty. She stared into it like she was mourning a loss, and then she decided to wash the pot and clean the kitchen.
An hour later, Amara entered the pharmacy, carrying a small food flask with the turkey inside. She had taken her time to freshen up and change into something else.
She had debated within herself for some minutes before deciding to wear the halter neck dress that stopped slightly above her knees.
She wasn't wearing it to seduce him or anything. A person like Michael wouldn't fall for her even if she tried. She was just wearing it because she had bought it as her house wear. It wasn't like her breasts were showing or anything.
When she stepped inside the pharmacy, Michael was behind the counter, laughing with a customer. The rest of his staff had left since it was almost 7 p.m. already.
Her stomach did a small flip when he looked up, and their eyes met. His lips curved into a smile immediately.
Her heart fluttered.
Why did he have to smile like that? 'God, please don't let me fall for this man. Unless you want me to.' She prayed silently.
"You came," Michael said as the customer left.
"Did you think I wouldn't?" she asked, walking over to join him.
"I had my doubts," he said, leaning slightly over the counter as he looked her over.
She smiled and held out the food flask. "Your turkey."
Michael took it with both hands. "Thank you. I gave the rice to the guy in the next compound to give to their dogs. So the rice didn't go to waste."
"I should be happy that dogs ate rice that a human being should have eaten? I didn't spend hours cooking for dogs," she muttered.
He held her gaze. "Let me ask you a question. If you were cooking the food for yourself and that happened, would you have cried so much?"
"Why will I cry? I will eat it like that," she said without thinking twice.
"So, you cried because of me?" He asked, and when she hesitated, he grinned. "Were you trying to impress me, Amara?"
She raised a brow. "Are you finding my mouth right now?"
"Me? Why will I find your fine mouth when I can see it right there on your pretty face?" he said, his voice playful.
She gave him a slight glare, but her lips twitched with a small smile. "Have you always been a born-again Christian, or were you a flirt before?" She blurted out without thinking.
Michael laughed. "Why are you asking me that?" he asked softly, stepping out from behind the counter.
"No offense, but I'm getting that vibe from you," she said, and looked away when he grinned.
She went to sit down where the customers usually sit to put some distance between them. "By the way, why are you the only one here? I thought you said you only close the pharmacy on Mondays and Wednesdays? Today is Thursday."
Michael smiled as he took the flask and went to sit with her. He could tell she was trying to change the subject. "Christy swapped with me yesterday. So, I'm covering for her today. So, what vibe are you getting from me?"
She shrugged but didn't look at him. "I can't explain it."
He bent slightly so he could see her face. "Are you sure? Because I'm getting the feeling that you can, but don't want to."
Her eyes darted to the ground. "Mike…"
"Yes?" He responded sweetly.
She sighed. "What are you doing?"
"Like what? You have to be specific."
She looked up at him, her heart thudding loudly in her chest. "You know what I mean."
He smiled again, slow and easy. "I don't know."
She sighed again. "Now that I've brought the turkey, I should go back upstairs," she whispered as she rose.
Michael tilted his head. "Why?"
"Because I want to go and rest."
"I already ordered food," he said gently. "Wait for them to deliver, and then you can take your own upstairs. Although I was hoping you'd sit with me until I close."
Amara swallowed. "Okay."
"Okay you will stay with me until I close? Or okay you will wait for the food and take it upstairs?"
She looked at him, and when their eyes met, Amara could hear nothing but her heartbeat.
Nah! There was nothing anybody was going to tell her. Michael used to be a bad boy. A very bad one at that, and for her own good, it would be best to be careful around him and stay away from him, pastor or not.
She swallowed. "I will go upstairs."
Michael chuckled, amused by her reaction. "I thought as much. Okay. And to answer your question, yes. I wasn't always a born-again Christian. I doubt anyone was born again from birth. So whatever vibe you're getting might just be correct," he said with a grin before rising to attend to a customer.