“Oh, you’re getting out, baby?” Nivéa asked, surprised as she realized he had hopped out too.
“Hell yeah. They need to know who I am.” Crown replied.
“I hear that.” She laughed as they walked inside.
Nivéa introduced Crown to both directors, then signed Nyla out while he grabbed her carrier from the designated area up front. He took Nyla from her arms once they brought her out, holding her for a moment before placing her in her seat.
It was a little after eight when they finally made it to Nivéa's house after stopping to grab dinner. As usual, when he was around, Crown effortlessly slipped into daddy mode, and Nivéa loved it. It made things so much easier for her. After she bathed Nyla and fed her, Crown held her and talked to her while they ate. Nyla was growing, and the bigger she got, the longer she would stay up.
Once she was done cleaning the plates they’d used, Nivéa pried Nyla from Crown’s arms and held her tight, kissing her forehead. Nyla squealed, almost as if she was uncomfortable, frowning at the sudden shift.
“Girlll, don’t you dare,” Nivéa said, playfully side-eyeing her with a smirk. “I’m yo’ mama. Don’t play.”
Crown chuckled. “I don’t know why you bother her. She ain’t checkin’ for you when I’m around.”
“Shut up, I miss her.” Nivéa laughed.
Wrapping Nyla in a blanket, she popped a pacifier into her mouth to soothe her. As she rocked her gently, Nivéa rested her head against Crown’s chest while he turned on his favorite TV show. He shook his head, placing his arm around her shoulder. Nivéa thought she was slick, but he was on to her game. The real reason she wanted to get Nyla from him was so she could snuggle into his arms instead.
Fifteen minutes later, Nivéa’s eyes fluttered shut just as Nyla’s did, but Crown gently woke her, urging her to put the baby in the crib. He was ready for some adult time after days of being swamped with his busy schedule and wanted to make up for lost time.
Feeling the same way, Nivéa didn’t argue. She placed Nyla in the nursery and tidied up a few things downstairs. By the time she entered the bedroom, Crown was already in the shower, waiting for her. She quickly grabbed a gown and lace panties from the dresser, wrapped her hair, and joined him in the steam.
The bonnet didn’t faze Crown. He still found her to be the sexiest woman alive. He swore no bitch could fuck with his, not even on her worst day. No words were exchanged as he pulled her into his arms and hugged her. He missed the shit out of her. He didn’t even give a fuck if she gave him pussy that night or not; just being in her presence was enough.
“Baby,” Nivéa whispered, cradling his head against her shoulder.
“Yeah, baby?” Crown breathed slowly in her ear.
His Satin Hills accent was heavy and intoxicating, weighing down Nivéa’s eyelids. She hugged him back tightly as the water ran over them. Afraid that if she let go, he would disappear again. His mother was right. Being with Crown Knight wasn’t for the weak. Though he pampered her endlessly, Nivéa couldn’t shake the sadness that came with knowing his time was so limited.
“Two things.” She said.
“I’m listenin’, woman.”
“I want you to go with me to visit my mother’s gravesite soon. She would’ve loved you.”
Crown nodded, loving that idea. “I got you. Just let me know when, and I’ll carve out the time. We can go to hers, and then I’ll take you to my people’s.”
“Okay, and I want to go with you on your trip. I’m done thinking about it. We can ask your mama.”
Crown chuckled, knowing she wanted to say yes at first. He couldn’t understand why she was so determined to be cautious with him.
“Don’t laugh at me.” Nivéa pouted.
He gripped her chin, forcing her to look up at him. “You gotta stop that cautious shit wit’ me, ma. I ain’t one of ‘em. I’mma do you good forever. My people will, too.”
Nivéa smiled, her red nails tracing over his pendant. “I hear you,”
“But do you believe me?”
“I believe anything you tell me when you naked, nigga.”
They laughed in unison as Crown stared her in the eyes.
By the time they finished in the shower, Crown was hungry again. Nivéa prepared him a big plate of leftovers from a meal she had made the other day. Her nigga was big and liked to eat. And she had no problem with keeping him fed. They settled on the couch, relaxing and listening to music at a low volume as he ate. She watched him while her song played, eager to learn more about him. It was still so crazy to her. She loved him even before she fully understood why.
“What’s your favorite color? I’m assuming black or red.” She asked quietly, thinking of the colors of his bikes and helmet.
