5—No Mater What!

Folarin paced the length of the room, anger pulsing through his veins. They had come too close. He had let them come too close. He hadn't done his job right. He couldn't fail. Failure meant—

“Giwa!” The sharp bark pulled him out of his thoughts.

He turned to face Tayo.

“It's not your fault,” he said in a tone that brokered no argument.

“I should have gone first at least—”

“Again,” Tayo frowned. “It is not your fault. I'm sure she was being her stubborn self.”

Folarin shook his head, ready to defend her.

Tayo sighed. “I love her, but I also know her. It's true.”

“The house has been compromised,” he said, moving to his next concern.

“It was always compromised,” Tayo swore as the realisation hit him. “We just didn't want to doubt any of our people.”

Folarin nodded. He thought it was routine that the packages had been delivered. You couldn't stop packages like they argued. Which could still be true.

But this fiasco had clearly been an inside job: either someone had let the intruder in or had done the intruding themselves.

“It's either they planted a mole or bought someone to their side.”

Tayo nodded. “Let's hope it's the former,”

Folarin nodded. “I'm taking her to Florine Towers,”

Tayo snorted. “That was such a stupid name,”

“Take that back, old man!”

Tayo just kept laughing. “We can't go into her room, so we can't access any of her things.”

Her room was closed off like the crime scene it was.

“CCTV?” Of course, there were no cameras in her room, but there was a camera facing her room door.

“Useless,” Tayo snorted. “There was a glitch,”

“So they have a hacker too,” Folarin filed that titbit of information away. “That's good to know,”

“Yeah,” Tayo nodded. “I just hate that she saw it.”

“Me too.” Folarin frowned at her prone form. She had slept off immediately after the officer got her statement. The police team had stayed behind to gather evidence and take pictures. Not that Fola thought it would help. This person was no amateur. “I don't think she should report to work. Too many variables. I can't— I can't—”

“It's okay, son,” Tayo patted his back. “We'll make damn sure the worst scenario never happens,”

“We'll buy whatever we need,” Tayo assured him. He nodded, but this was a problem they could just throw money at. They needed a permanent solution, like burying it twenty feet under so it couldn't even dream of resurrecting.

“We need to talk to her about the plan of attack. I don't think she will enjoy being whisked away.”

Tayo snorted at the irony. “I'll leave that to you while I make arrangements.”

Tayo walked over to where she lay and picked her up, enjoying the feel of her in his hands.

She stirred and gazed at him with sleepy eyes. “Sleep,” he murmured softly and kissed her eyes shut. “I'm here now,”

She nodded softly and did as he asked. He navigated the stairs and took her to his room, or his old room. This room was where they had first met. It looked nothing like the teenage boy's dream room it had once been.

Tayo had updated it when he was updating Ara's room. He looked around at the sea of blues, greens, and muted greys that made up the room. He continued staying here after Aramide had left for university. Tayo had felt guilty for the end of their friendship and sponsored Folarin to university. Folarin had studied Business Administration with the dream of starting his own business one day. He had joined as many fighting clubs as he could: taekwondo, judo, and boxing. Those classes had honed his body and his mind over the years. But this room, this house, had settled his soul. Knowing that he was close to her somehow made him rest easier.

He smiled at her, and she looked restful in sleep. None of the anxiety and stubbornness that she carried throughout the day was present on her face as she slept. He sat in the chair close to the door and tried to sleep. But he was too hyped to actually shut down, body or mind. He tried his breathing exercises that always knocked him out. But that didn't help.

He finally gave up, pulled out his phone, and got some work done. This was why he was still awake when Tayo dropped off the new clothes that he had bought. It was also why he was still awake when she woke up to pee. She looked around and frowned. He switched on the lights and raised his hands in the symbol of surrender.

“Everything's okay,” he assured her.

“What are you doing in my room?” she glanced down at her body like she was imagining the worst.

He smirked and looked at her body from top to bottom with a smug playboy smile. “What do you think?”

She threw a pillow at him, and he caught it and tossed it back. It knocked her head.

“Ouch,” she spluttered, clutching her head and glaring at him.

“Sorry,” he shrugged. Sometimes he forgot how good his throw was.

She studied his face and smiled. “You're not,”

“I'm not,” he nodded, fighting a smile. She could always read him like a good book. Apparently, that hadn’t changed. Amongst other things.

She swung her feet out of bed. “I'll be right back,” then she was in the toilet doing her business.

“I dropped some pyjamas in the bathroom if you want to shower and change,” he called out through the toilet door.

“Thanks,”

He sat there affixed to the chair, trying not to think of her in the bathroom. He got up and paced the length of his room, once, twice. On the third pace, he opened the door of his room softly and walked into the hallway. He plopped in front of his door, rested his full weight on the door. Anyone who wanted to get to her would have to go through all six feet and three inches of him.

He wasn't sure how long he sat there, waiting, trying to think of sad things because his happy place wasn't an appropriate place to go right now. Especially since his happy place was currently in his bedroom after years of no contact. He shuddered. Yep, no thinking of his happy place. He turned to the case, working through the facts he had. Holding the facts against their suspect and seeing if they fit.

They did, they were desperate enough to do this. But the real question was: what did they want? What did they hope to gain from scaring her? Or was death the end goal? He didn't understand their motivation. Which meant he couldn't anticipate their actions. Did they really want her dead so she didn't inherit anything from her late husband's wealth? He swore, not on his watch. The door was yanked open on that last “Fuck,” surprising him and the lady standing behind the open door.

“Cute, right?” she gestured to her PJs, and he smiled down at her. He smiled up at her, for the first time. The situation was always reversed because he had been taller than her since way back when.

He could imagine the picture they painted, him sprawled in the hallway, her standing in the room, with the door open between them. He laughed and got to his feet quickly and moved into the room, closing the door softly behind him.

"Very cute," he smiled.

“Why am I in your room?” she raised a brow.

“Your room was compromised, remember?”

She snorted. “As if I could forget,”

“Well, your room is off commission while the police gather evidence, and even when it's cleared, it needs a thorough cleaning.”

“More like gutting,” she nodded. “Still doesn't explain my presence here,”

“Nowhere else to put you,”

She snorted again. “We have how many rooms in this big sprawling house?”

“Fine, I wanted to see you in my bed,” he smirked. “Happy now?”

“Watch it, Flo,” she warned him.

“Yes, ma'am,”

“What's the plan of attack?” she settled on the bed. He took the chair across from her.

“We can discuss this tomorrow morning, I'm sure you are tired and hungry—”

Her stomach growled at the hungry part. “I'll take that as a yes,” he smiled at her tummy. Marveled at the fact that something so tiny could make such a loud noise.

“Wait until the baby is here,” she smiled as though she read his mind.

“My little terror,” he laughed. “What do you want to eat?”

“Anything that's available,” she waved her hand as though it didn't matter.

“You're not craving anything?” he asked as he walked into his closet and grabbed a change of clothes. “I'm going to shower quickly,”

“I'm not going anywhere,” she said. He nodded and moved to the bathroom, taking the quickest shower and pulling on his clothes.

When he walked back into the room, she was looking through his room, examining the art pieces and everything else on display.

“Snooping Ara?”

She jumped. “I didn't hear you come in.”

“Defeats the entire purpose of stealth,” he told her as he pulled on his slipper and walked over to where she stood.

“Food?” he asked. She nodded, and they left the room together.

“You didn't answer my question earlier,” he turned to look at her

“About cravings?”

“Yeah,”

“Will you drive around at 2 a.m. to get it for me?” she reached up to pinch his cheeks.

“I'm sure they deliver,” he patted her head.

“I'm not craving anything, thank you,” she smiled. “Okay, that's a lie. I'm craving spicy noodles. But we've got all the ingredients at home. So no need for 2 am deliveries.”

He nodded. The house was always fully stocked; he once called their pantry a store. She had explained that her Dad built it for her mom, who had known hunger a lot in her life. It was a reassurance that she would never go hungry again in her life. Apparently, it was her favourite gift. Ara claimed her Mom had been known to sleep in the pantry once or twice until Tayo had forbidden it. He installed CCTV in the room and made her watch the live feed when she felt like sleeping there.

It had the same effect on Folarin when he was young. He hadn't known hunger like most, but he had known lack, managing. Eating what was available at home, not what you wanted. Cravings were but a wish or yet another thing to save towards. Until he came here.

He followed her to the pantry as she grabbed all she needed and a few snacks to munch on while the food cooked. “You eating?” she asked, and it was like being transported to another time, another set of Folarin and Aramide. The younger, more trusting, less jaded version of them.

“Yeah,” he said without thinking too hard. She dumped a few more packets on his body, and they were ready to leave.

She worked silently, or semi-silently, cause she hummed under her breath. Still. He listened closely, trying to pinpoint the sound.

“What did the police find?” she asked, interrupting his mental search for the song she was humming.

“Nothing,” his frustration seeped into the word.

“No prints, nothing? How is that possible?”

He frowned. “This was no amateur.”

She nodded and let that information sink in. “Next steps?”

He paused. She wasn't going to like it.

“Just say it.”

“Whoever is behind this is connected, monied. They can hire out the dirty work, or they are doing it themselves with professionals cleaning up after them.”

“That changes what?”

“Everything,”

“You have suspects,” she turned to him.

He shook his head. “Just a profile,” he lied. His first lie of the evening. He kept his face neutral; she could always tell when he was lying when they were younger. He hoped for her sake that he had become a better liar in recent years.

“Okay,” she nodded and added a few bits of something into the pot. “What are you not telling me?”

“We think it may be best to avoid the office, too many variables,” he started.

She nodded. “I can work from home. Project management can be done remotely. Next,” she waved her spoon like she was checking something off a list.

“We also don't want you to stay here. So we want to move you to a safe house.”

She stilled. “How long?”

He shrugged; he knew she wouldn't like his answer. “Long enough to catch the bastard behind this.”

“That's all great and all,” she started softly. “But I need a timeline. Two weeks? One month? Two? Six?” her voice croaked on the last number.

“This is not a project Ara,” he said softly, too. “I don't have a timeline. I don't know how long it will take to catch the bad guy.”

“So you want me locked up until—” she stopped.

He walked over and stared her down. “I'm not locking you up,” he said softly, rubbing his hands up and down her arms. Hoping the action reassured her. “I would never do that. I would never. Do you hear me, Mide mi?” he used her nickname and got the effect he wanted.

She smiled and rolled her eyes.

“I just need you to be safe. I can't stand it if—” he stopped. “I can't Mide. I can't,”

She nodded softly and sighed. “Okay,”

He smiled and pulled her into a hug. She relaxed against his hold as though she trusted him to hold her up. And out of everything that happened today, that was what made him smile.

“Let's eat,” she moved out of the warmth of his hug, and he felt the loss acutely.

She served their bowls, measuring the portions until they were identical. He smiled at the quirk.

“Dining?” he asked, remembering her penchant for eating at the dining table.

“Nah,” she settled into the island chair. “Island,”

They ate in silence. The only sounds in the room were made by spoons meeting the bowl and Ara's moan of appreciation. Or was that his?

“This is great,” he complimented, sniffing. She was serious about the spice.

“Duh!” she shrugged. “I made it.”

Unlike the stereotype that followed pampered rich girls, Aramide knew how to cook. And she was great at it. Her Mom had been Tayo's cook back in the day, that was actually how they met. So she had taught Aramide everything she knew. Aramide enjoyed learning everything her mom taught her. Soaking up all the love and attention.

He laughed and continued eating his meal. He finished first and grabbed one of the snacks they grabbed that lay forgotten on the counter.

“You're still hungry?” she frowned at him.

“You can't finish it, can you?” he pointed at her bowl, still full. She frowned.

“Can too,” she stuck out her tongue at him. “I'm eating for two now.”

And she did finish it, but it took her twice as long as it did, and he had polished off three bags of chips, another three chocolate cookies, and a few other snacks. He even got up to replenish his stack, grabbing a basket so he could carry his loot with him.

“It's not running away,” she reminded him.

“It's for you,” he said softly. “You're eating for two. You may want to snack later.”

“Thanks,” she smiled and dropped her plate in the sink.

“I'll wash it,”

“I can—”

“You cook,” he pointed at her. “I clean. That's the rules,”

She snorted and moved away. “Yes, sir,”

“Movie or sleep?”

“Movie until I sleep,” she smiled from her perch.

He made quick work of their dishes and put everything away. “Here or—”

“Not here,”

They were off, he holding her basket of snacks and she trailing behind him like a child hiding behind his mother. He smiled at the analogy and kept on.

Once in his room, he set up the TV and gave her the remote. “Ideas?”

She shook her head and patted her side. He climbed into the bed and tried to keep his excitement at bay. She snuggled close, and he shoved a pillow over himself. She didn't need to see what her scent did to his body.

They swiped through all the options, and Aramide watched anything except horror, as long as the story was good. She called herself a good story slut, when they were younger. He had argued that horror movies also had good stories. She argued that it was the principle of matter; why would you want to be scared for fun? He had more points, but her glare stopped him from speaking. He smiled at the memory as they settled on an old romcom they had watched back in the day. Less than two minutes in, and she started to doze. He let her doze and reduced the TV's brightness and volume until it was just a soft drone in the background like the pitter-patter of a soft drizzle on the roof.

He moved her gently until she was horizontal, and then he got out of bed. He grabbed a pillow and moved to the couch. She groaned her protest in sleep, and he reassured her of his presence with words. No way was he getting back in that bed with her.

“I'm here,” he called out softly. “I'm not going anywhere. You're safe. I won't let anything happen to you,” he promised.

Fully intending to keep the promise, even if he had to protect her from himself. He would keep her safe. No matter what.