Then I remembered something that my mother said to me at my birthday party that my brother had surprised me with. It had come out of nowhere. I’d been about to leave with two women who I planned to fuck and share with Hiro.
And she’d frowned, touched my arm, and whispered,
“The way a woman cares for her hair reveals her spirit.”
I never understood what she meant by that. I’d muttered back that their hair was fine.
Honestly, I’d tagged it all as unimportant female things.
Now I wished my mother were alive so I could tell her I finally understood.
She hadn't been talking about vanity or beauty routines. She'd been trying to teach me how to recognize awife. A woman who tended to herself with such care that she would bring that same devotion to everything she touched.
To my men.
To my children.
To my home.
My mother had been showing me what to look for all along, and I'd dismissed it as insignificant female babble.
But there was nothing insignificant about this.
The way Nyomi moved through this ritual—unhurried, intentional, gentle with herself—revealed everything.
She knew how to nurture.
How to heal.
How to take something the world called difficult and transform it into something beautiful.
That was the woman I wanted beside me.
Not just in bed.
Not just in this criminal world.
But in life.
I knew she was my heart but. . .I don’t think I understood what that meant I had to do until now. . .
More time passed. When Nyomi finally finished the last braid, she stood and stretched.
The towel loosened slightly at her waist.
She caught me staring—again—in the mirror. "I can’t believe you watched the whole time."
"And I will do it again and again." Time had stopped meaning anything when it came to moments with her.
She turned to face me fully. Her braids swayed with the movement. She walked over until she stood barely a foot away from me.
I caught one of her braids gently, felt how soft it was, how alive. "I realized something this morning."
“What?”
I met her eyes. "The greatest intimacy isn't always physical.”
“Then, what is it?”
