Woiie, my subconscious laughs.
“Nickoi,” I say, defeated. He’s too strong.Betta yuh give up.
“Hush up nuh, Zara,” he says huskily. I sigh, letting him have his way. I’m not fighting, sexual tension thick in the room. I close my eyes, trying to calm myself as he plays with my breast. His lips hover near my neck, making me shiver.
“Yuh stop fight?” he asks lowly. We’re so close, I barely hear him.
I bite my lip.
“Eeeh?”
The babies stir. He steps back, hands dropping.
Thank goodness.
I tuck my towel, roll my eyes, blushing as he walks to their crib. I slip into my clothes. The music’s still loud. He plays more songs as I do my hair and apply makeup. I smile at him when I’m done. He’s bobbing his head to Squash’sReady, like he ghostwrote it.
Once I’m dressed, I scoop up the twins. They’re staying with their Grandma.
I buckle them into their seats, both chewing their pacifiers. Nickoi joins us in the Range Rover a few minutes later. He’s on the phone, talking about land plots. I zone him out, focusing on our babies. My phone vibrates.
It’s Nicki.
She asks if we’re nearby. I text back that Nickoi just drove out, and that she can expect us soon. He’s still on the call, now with the agent and his lawyer. I assume he’s building something. A house? A business?
Maybe he’ll tell me.
I watch buildings blur past until he ends the call. He looks… stressed.
“Zara,” he calls. I glance at him.
Wah him a look fa?
He checks his pocket, then the center console. Still focused on the road, he hisses under his breath, scanning.
“Wah yuh lef, Nickoi?” I finally ask.
He hisses again. “Mi wallet.”
Him never lef him wallet. Him just stress.
Why dem call him and a stress him so?
“You lef it inna the house,” I say. He hums faintly. There’s a gas station nearby. His tank full. Was he going to buy something? Wait… what about cards?
“You have the cards, right?”
He shakes his head no.
Ahh bwoy. Him affi go drive all the way back?
Fi wah? And him have you. Have sense nuh, Zara. Be there fi yuh man,my subconscious says.
I smile to myself. She can do me bad sah.
“You did a go buy something?” I ask. He nods. His phone rings. He hisses, ignores it, then answers me.
“Not now, but mi a go link British after this, and mi definitely a guh need money, yuh zi mi.”
