Once he’s through, he left, saying the pics would be ready by tomorrow. Not even five minutes in, and I’m already laughing, every box I open is sex toys and games. The girls are cracking up too; it feels like it’ll never end. Then I spot a simple coffee mug with “Mrs. Jacobs” on it from Aunt Olive.
Finally, something innocent.
But just when I think it’s calm, I see a rose vibrator. “What the hell?” I blurt out, and the girls lose it, laughing like crazy.
“Mommy send that?” I ask, still shocked.
I proceed, giggling excitedly as I pull boxes after boxes. Designer clothes, furry slides with “bride” stitched on, Pandora jewelry, gifts from babe. I have one for him too, but I need to be with him for that.
By 7 o’clock, we’ve stuffed ourselves with fast food and champagne, playing wedding edition “would you rather.” Then the pillow fight starts, sweat beads on my skin, laughter filling the room.
I slump on the bed, breath still heavy from all the laughter. My phone buzzes. Nickoi flashes on the screen. My smile widens before I even answer.
“Hey,” I say, my voice hoarse.
He stares at me quiet for a beat. “You did a ramp man?” he observes. I nod, still catching my breath.
“Yeah, a bay ramping.” I flip the camera to the girls, blindfolded, swinging pillows, pure chaos.
Nickoi laughs. “You mi wah see though.”
I switch it back. “Just showing you what I’m up to.”
“Yah,” he says then we hear a loud noise. He turns to his friends. “Unuh easy wid the noise nuh!” When it quiets, he talks, and I move to the next room, the girls are still loud, but now it’s just us. I sit, soaking it in.
He talks about the shoes I got him, how they match his clothes. I smile, eyes roaming the room. This place, the same room holds the perfect memories, where we made our kids. Our first time making love. My face heats up.
“Yaw, listen me?” His voice snaps me back.
“Um, yeah… just tired,” I say, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.
“Arite, so the baby dem gov?” he asks. I nod, watching him lick his lips, eyes warm and soft.
“You gov?”
“Yes, Nickoi.” I smile shyly. He looks away, dimples deepening.
“Cutey,” I say, grabbing his attention. “You okay?”
“No.” It comes out low.
“Why?”
“Mi nuh have mi youth dem round me, and mi nuh have mi favorite person’s breast fi hold.” My cheeks burn.
“You favorite person?” I ask, surprised.
He nods.
“Awww, you soon have we tomorrow, baby,” I whisper.
He smirks, eyes on the TV.
“Cya wait,” he breathes out.
I laugh at him, sounding like he’s being tortured. His brows almost joined, eyes low and dark. I don’t understand how he looks this good when he’s upset. He’s literally so handsome? Just staring.
I feel my pulse picking up its pace.
