A Twisted Christmas

Chapter 6

"Hey baby," Mrs Chuka beamed as she moved to hug Dylan and Tola. "I thought you were coming in earlier."

"Yes. I thought so too but Tola had other plans. Took a little too long to finish getting ready," Dylan mumbled, making Tola look down sheepishly.

"Well can you blame her? She of course wanted to impress her future mother-in-law," his mother laughed, cupping Tola's cheek. "You look fantastic dear."

Tola couldn't help the slight tears forming in beneath her lids. She couldn't remember the last time someone spoke to her with a motherly tone besides her late mother who she lost to cancer when she was fifteen. But here was Dylan's mother, complimenting the fitted purple dress she didn't even have the time to check out before being whisked away by an impatient Dylan.

"Yeah," Muna muttered lowly but Tola picked it up almost immediately. She stayed focused on mrs Chuka, trying to pretend he was not in the room.

"Why are you on the island? You could break something," Dylan asked Muna. Tola groaned internally.

"I was shooting a video of mom. She's a natural for TV," He shrugged while his mom blushed.

"Oh stop it," She waved him off. "Besides he's only doing that so I don't tell him to help me cook."

Dylan chuckled heartily, loosing his neck tie but still leaving the top button of his white shirt on. He looked more like a lawyer than a gynecologist. "Still extremely lazy, bro."

"Whatever." Muna smiled shyly before looking down. Tola couldn't miss the fact that he glanced at her before looking away.

"Ma'am I haven't seen Eliora, is she—" Tola started, hoping to lighten the mood.

"Oh don't ma'am me. You, my dear can call me mom or mumsy," Mrs Chuka, mumsy, interrupted.

"Mumsy," Tola smiled.

"And for Eliora, she's out with a friend. She should be back any minute now."

"Alright. Tola and I will go settle in our room so—" Dylan wrapped an arm around Tola's waist.

"Oh no no Mr," Mumsy shook her head, stirring the pot again. "You both will stay in separate rooms."

"What?" Dylan furrowed his brows. "But mom we're—"

"Not married yet," she said in a stern tone. "My house, my rules. Now go get settled in. I need Tola's help with this."

"Oh you just got schooled, fool," Muna laughed.

"Watch it," Dylan snapped. "And where's your guest? I thought you'd bring little white girlfriend over."

Tola perked up at the statement, involuntarily turning to Muna.

"It was a fake relationship. For publicity." Muna said staring at Tola, who found it difficult to look away from his dark eyes that currently contrasted with the sincerity behind them.

"That's not what the press are saying," she said. "I heard they had some date pics where you both seemed....close."

"Like I said. It was for publicity," he finalized.

Tola still stared at him. She was trying to find a tic that could expose his lie. But there was none. Instead she found herself getting lost in his eyes.

"Well whatever," Dylan grumbled, doing a little stretch. Tola broke eye contact with Muna to face her fiancee. "I'm going to bed. Call me when dinner's ready yeah?"

"Of course baby," Mumsy cooed, waving Tola to her side.

Every move Tola made, she could feel Muna's eyes on her. It made her uncomfortable that he sat directly in front of her while she chopped the onions. The tension in the room was becoming so palpable she could taste it. Her eyes remained trained on the onion bulb like it was the most interesting thing on earth. She struggled to keep a stoic face, although Muna clearly had no intentions of hiding the fact that he was openly ogling at her. She didn't know when her hands started shaking. All she knew was that Muna had brushed his feet on her calf before the knife went through her skin.

"Ouch!" She flinched dropping the knife to cradle her bleeding thumb.

"s**t," Muna muttered as he jumped of the island, heading for the napkins.

Tola could hear the hurried steps of Mumsy as she came to her side.

"Oh dear. Muna, get the methylated spirit." She pointed to the cabinet. Muna gave her the napkin and headed for the cabinet.

"It's okay. It's just a scratch," Tola smiled with flaming cheeks, cleaning the wound with the napkin.

"Nonsense," Mumsy disagreed. "It's bleeding."

"Here," Muna arrived with the methylated spirit, some cotton wool and a bandaid. He wasted no time to apply the liquid on the wool before taking Tola's wounded finger. "I'm sorry," he flinched when she flinched at the stinging sensation. Then he lightly blew on it.

Tola watched him closely. The furrow of his brows. The intense concentration. The softness behind his words and actions whenever he moved her hand. It all felt so familiar to her. She felt a flutter in her stomach which made her remove her hand from his, causing him to stare with a confused look.

"Let me patch it properly," he suggested, reaching out for her.

"No. Its fine. I'm fine," she muttered. "Thank you."

"You should go rest, dear. I'm deeply sorry," Mumsy apologized, stroking her cheek. "I should have let you rest when you arrived instead I—"

"It's fine. I was the clumsy one," Tola said, giving Muna a pointed look.

"Accidents happen, love. Go I'll finish up," Mumsy stroked Tola's arm with a warm smile.

Tola quickly walked behind the island ignoring the stare from the person who presently made her heart heavy with rage. She smiled warmly at Mumsy before racing up the stairs.