“Where are you going?” Jonah says, his voice groggy with sleep.
“To pee!” I say and scamper out of the room.
One look in the bathroom mirror tells me that I made the right choice. My face is puffy and my eye makeup is smeared. Meanwhile, my hair looks like a nest built by a bird who really, really didn’t know what it was doing. I grab my brush and start working through the tangles, and once I’m done, I start washing my face.
I smell my pit, and groan. Great. I turn the shower on. If I’m quick, I can make it back to bed before Jonah’s the wiser. Hopefully he fell back to sleep already.
I turn to shut the bathroom door, and shriek.
“Jonah! You scared the shit out of me.”
My husband is leaning against the door frame watching me with a bemused expression.
“How long have you been there?” I demand.
“Long enough to see that you’re not just peeing. What are you doing?”
“Making myself look nice for you.”
As soon as I say the words, I realize how stupid and silly they sound. A lot of work goes into making myself look as good as I do on a daily basis, but I’m not supposed to let aman, especially one I’m sleeping with, know that. Women are supposed to look perfect, and men are supposed to think they got that way naturally, and admitting how much effort it all takes is the antithesis of cool.
“Win, you don’t need to do anything to make yourself look nice. You always look good.” Jonah catches my wrist in his hand and pulls me flush against him.
“But my hair looked like a bird’s nest.”
“That’s sweet,” he says, and drops a kiss on my nose.
“I had mascara smeared on my face like a raccoon.”
“Raccoons are pretty cute.” Another kiss lands on my cheek.
“And I smelled bad.”
He leans down and buries his face in my neck. “You smell like sex. Which just makes me want to have sex with you all over again.”
“Your cum is dried on my thighs! I need to shower.”
A smug look crosses Jonah’s face, followed quickly by one of concern. “Fuck. We didn’t use protection. I should have had a condom but…well, I don’t think I have any in the house anyways. It’s been a while for me.”
“It’s okay. I’ve had a copper IUD for a while. I didn’t want to get pregnant and give my parents another way to control me.” I shrug, but I don’t think it does much to cover up the bleakness of that statement.
Jonah brushes my hair gently from my face. “Why don’t we shower? It’ll feel good.”
I nod. He turns the water to hot, and we get in, the steam soon surrounding us. Jonah’s house is small, but the bathroom is a decent size and the shower easily fits us both under the overhead jet. He grabs my bottle of shampoo and lathers some between his hands.
“You know,” he says, “I’ve been secretly using this stuff. It smells amazing.” He works it into my hair, massaging my scalp as he does.
“I know you have been. I can smell it on you. But I don’t mind. My friend Carly works at a salon and always gives me a discount. She’s actually the one who helped me get out of Alabama.”
“She sounds like a good friend.” He tilts my head back with one hand and rinses the suds out of my hair.
“She is.” I moan as his fingers continue to massage my head. “That feels so good. Now turn around.”
Jonah gives me a confused look.
“It’s my turn to take care of you now,” I say.
Jonah puts his back to me and I grab the shampoo. I scrub his hair, taking special care to massage his head, the same way he did for me. At first he’s tense, and I can tell he’s not used to letting someone care for him this way. But when I move down his neck and start lightly working some of the knots there, he starts to relax under my hands. I move over to his shoulders, and he lets out a groan and his head lolls forward.
