I stood and reached for her hands. She ain’t fight me this time.
I helped her out the tub and wrapped the towel around her body ‘cause she was already lookin’ like she ain’t have no strength left. I dried her slow. I took my time rubbin’ the towel down her arms, feelin’ that warm chocolate skin under my hands, and I swear my chest got tight just touchin’ her. I went over her shoulders and her back, lettin’ my palms follow the curves that I been missin’ for damn near a month. When I slid the towel along her stomach and down her hips, she shivered. Hell, I think we both did.
Her skin was soft as hell. Her body smelled like cocoa butter and that honey soap she love. Her titties was sittin’ full andperfect under the towel and every part of me wanted to kiss every inch of her. It took everything inside me to keep my hands respectful ‘cause Toni wasn’t just some woman I fucked. Toni was my heart, my home and even through all the bullshit, my body still knew her.
I knew what Toni been through. I knew what was taken from her before she even had a chance to be grown, and I swore I would never be the nigga who pushed up on her without consent.
Even on nights when we fight and she pull away from me, I still remember that lil’ girl she once told me about with tears in her eyes. The one who never had nobody stand up for her and the one who had to survive shit no child should ever see.
So I gave her a lot of grace. Even when I’m mad, even when she rip my heart out my chest and throw that divorce shit at me. Even when I want her so bad it feel like I’m losin’ my mind, I step back ‘cause I know she real guarded about certain shit.
And yeah, I know I was wrong for even questioning what she went through, but the truth was that I ain’t mean that shit.
But as I dried my wife’s legs and felt her skin warm under my hands, I wanted her in a way I couldn’t even say out loud. I ain’t just want sex. I wanted all of her. I wanted the woman who used to fall asleep on my chest. I wanted the woman who laugh in her sleep. I wanted the woman who stole my peace and became my peace at the same time. Losin’ her was the one thing I couldn’t handle. Watchin’ her pull away from me, and not even flinch when I touched her, that shit was tearin’ through me slow like a knife.
Her chocolate skin glowed under the bathroom light and she was still the most beautiful woman I ever laid my eyes on. No bitch on the planet could come close to what she was to me. She looked tired and swollen and hurt and she still took my breath away.
In the bedroom, I sat her on the edge of the bed and put oil in my hands. I warmed it up then ran my palms over her skin, her shoulders, her pretty ass titties and her stomach, down to her thighs. I spent more time on her feet ‘cause I knew she loved that, and her breathin’ softened just a lil’ when my thumbs pressed into the arch.
She never looked at me.
She never said a word.
When I finished, I laid her in bed, pulled the covers up over her and tucked them around her hips. I sat on the bed beside her and stared ahead ‘cause if I looked at her too long, I wasn’t leavin’.
After a long moment, I leaned down and kissed her forehead. “Goodnight,” I whispered. “If you need me, you know I’ll stop the world for you.”
She ain’t reply.
I swallowed hard. “I love you, Toni.”
She still didn’t speak, so I kissed her forehead again, stood up slow, and walked out the mansion feelin’ like I left my whole heartbeat layin’ in that damn bed.
The Lennox Residence
One week later…
A whole damn week went by and Kay’Lo still hadn’t hit me up, and the shit did not make sense in my world because niggas did not ignore Echo Lennox, not ever. I was the one who ignored niggas. I was the one who decided when shit started and when shit ended, so the idea of a man hittin’ then disappearing like I was forgettable felt backwards as hell. It had me in my feelings in a way I wasn’t used to, and I hated even admitting that to myself.
I kept telling myself he had to be busy or dealing with some real-life shit, because realistically the only explanation for him not calling me was that he had something serious. And yeah, he was married, but married niggas do a lot of wild shit and stilldouble back when the woman actually mattered to them. I had been telling myself all week that whatever he had going on with his wife must’ve been deeper than I expected, because there was no other reason a nigga like him would pass up a woman like me.
The more I thought about it, the more it irritated me because the shit wasn’t adding up. I wasn’t confused about who I was. I wasn’t confused about what I brought to a nigga’s life. I wasn’t confused about the way Kay’Lo had sex with me either because that man touched me like he felt every inch of it, so it didn’t make sense that he hadn’t reached out. It bruised something in my ego and annoyed the hell out of me because I wasn’t used to feeling like I wasn’t the exception.
I could feel that little sting of insecurity creeping up, not because I thought any woman looked better than me, but because I didn’t understand what could make him act like I didn’t even cross his mind. And being real with myself, that’s the part that bothered me the most, knowing that maybe nothing I did shook him the way I thought it did.
And here I was, layin’ across my plush white comforter in my family’s luxury apartment complex, scrolling through Kay’Lo’s Instagram for the fifth time today like some damn beginner. I refreshed his page again even though I already knew nothing new was there. It was the same thirty-something pictures, the same videos of him customizing cars, lookin’ fine as fuck with those dark shades and that blunt hangin’ off his bottom lip. It was the same thick hands smoothing vinyl wrap across a Maybach door like it was nothing. It was the same deep voice talkin’ low in the background of his reels while rich niggas dapped him up in the shop.
He looked good in every video, and the shit was sickening.
And it irritated me that he hadn’t thought to call me.
I went to Toni’s page again even though I kept telling myself I wasn’t gon’ do it no more. She had maybe eight or nine picturesup and none of them were recent. But I noticed that she posted in her stories more. Her page was clean and boring, the type of page you scroll three times and realize you ain’t seen shit worth remembering. I clicked on one where she was smiling next to him in some exotic-ass location. He was behind her with his hand around her waist, looking at her like she invented oxygen.
I pinched my lips together and watched the picture like it was lying to me.
“What do he even see in her?” I mumbled as I zoomed in.
She wasn’t ugly ugly, but she damn sure wasn’t me. She had that dark skin that photographers loved and those big eyes, but her wigs were hit or miss and she had that regular girl vibe.
