Five minutes pass before I hear the door open. I lift my head just a little.
“Mi did inna mi office,” he says gently, walking in with concern written all over his face.
And just like that, mi feel a little better already. “How yuh feel now?” he asks.
“A little better. Mi did dizzy and mi throw up,” I tell him, sitting up. Strangely, I do feel better now, and it’s wild how the moment he stepped in, my body just calmed.
“So as mi fawud, yuh good?”
I nod. Weird, but yes.
He stays with me for a while, running his hand gently through my hair while I rest on his chest. He’s so loving. Honestly? I could stay in his arms forever. Jeez.
I breathe in, and he looks down at me. “Good?”
“Mi good, baby. Thank you,” I smile.
“Alright, raise up, mi a go bathe,” he says, and I get up slowly as he grabs his towel.
I crawl up on the bed, unlock my phone, and open WhatsApp.
Why Nickoi a leave mi though?
I glance at him as he heads to the door. “Babe?” I call out. He looks back. “Yuh a go leave mi?”
He shakes his head immediately. “Nosah. Mi a stay home wid yuh, Mami,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
I smile. “Okay.” I blush, eyes dropping back to my phone.
Then he turns and asks, the sweetest smile on his face: “Yuh want lobster?”
I look up, surprised. “Yes… We a go buy it?” Truthfully, I don’t really want to go anywhere.
“Mi just tell yuh mi a stay home wid yuh. A order mi a go order it,” he says with that tone like, come on now, you should know this.
“Alright,” I reply softly. And just like that, I feel safe again.
He moves toward the bathroom door, then stops, eyes locked on me, dark and heavy. “Zara?” His voice dips low, smooth like warm honey. If I wasn’t watching, I’d miss it.
“Nickoi?” I say, soft, but steady, heart skipping, cheeks burning.
“Yah come?” His gaze holds me, steady and sure. I shake my head, but my breath catches.
“Bill an’ come, nuh,” he says, voice thick, pulling at something inside me I’m not ready to give.
I bite my lip, heat rising like fire beneath my skin. A quiet hiss slips out, part protest, part invitation. Chro. “For what?” I whisper, eyes on him, chest tight, pulse racing.
Zara, yuh know wah Nickoi want.
And that’s exactly why I’m caught, torn between what we had and what he’s asking for now. He’s silent for a moment, his presence close, almost a touch. I swallow hard, look up at him.
“Gwan go bathe, nuh,” I say, voice soft but trying to steady.
“Yuhreallynah come hear wah mi have fi tell yuh?” His voice drops lower, deep.
Him nav a thing fi tell me.
“We did that earlier,” I remind him, cheeks hotter, voice trembling.
