I pulled Khloe close, wrapping my arm around her waist and letting my face snuggle into that soft spot between her neck and shoulder. She still smelled like vanilla and honey mixed with a little sweat from all the work we’d just put in. It was perfect.
My eyes closed before I even realized it. That kind of night would always put a man straight to sleep. Fifteen years in, and she still had the power to undo me. Every time felt like the first with that same fire mixed with the same damn rush.
I was just about there, drifting, when I felt her turn around placing her lips on my cheek. She kissed me soft. Then another. And another.
I smiled, half-asleep. She would always kiss me when she thought I wasn’t paying attention or in a deep sleep. That shit made me feel like a man. Like I was truly loved—even when we were at odds or when she pretended she didn’t want to be near me.
But then I felt her hand sliding beneath the sheets, traveling lower.
“Are you ready for more, baby?” she whispered against my mouth, her breath sweet.
My eyes fluttered open. I couldn’t lie. My body wanted to say yes, but it needed a damn minute to recover.
“Yeah… just give me a minute, baby,” I said, still catching my breath.
That’s when I saw the disappointment flash across her face like a cloud blocking the sun. Her whole energy shifted.Damn.
She looked at me like I’d just rejected her, like I’d turned down a once-in-a-lifetime offer. I was tapped out. My hips felt like I just ran suicides. My abs were screaming, but I held that shit in.
I wanted to say“Baby, you wasn’t looking like that when I was deep diving like I was training for the olympics, or when you were yelling go deeper like we were filming a damn documentary on your uterus.”But I didn’t because I knew better.
If the roles were reversed and she had been up top riding on her tippy toes for ten straight minutes, she would’ve asked for a break, a Gatorade, and maybe even a breathing treatment.
I ran that whole argument in my head but kept it on mute. The last thing I needed was to ruin the one night we weren’t at each other’s throats, but damn if I wasn’t tired.
I reached for her hand, tried to bring her close again, but she was already shifting away, turning her back to me, clearly irritated.
I sighed. So much for a peaceful night.
Khloe sat up in the bed. I wiped a hand down my face because I already knew what was about to happen. I could feel it coming before she even opened her mouth.
“I just don’t understand,” she started, “how you can have all the energy in the world for everyone and everything… but when it comes to me, it’s never the same.”
I stared at the ceiling.
Here we go.
“You miss this, you miss that,” she kept going. “After dinner you maybe watch a little TV, then you’re ready for bed. And when I wake up in the morning to roll over to touch you, you’re already gone. Every. Single. Time.”
I clenched my jaw.
It was the same speech. Worded a little differently each time, but always the same message. And every time, I wanted to say the same thing back. I wanted to say how she complained about my work but didn’t hesitate to swipe that damn card, didn’t hesitate to enjoy the lifestyle it provided. But I knew better than to say it since it would only add gasoline to her fire.
Khloe worked, yeah, but not even enough to call it part-time. Her dad had it sweet for her at his firm. The only time she really had to be there was when he truly needed her, which was rare. Maybe once or twice a month. The rest of the time was her choice choosing her own clients and schedule. And I loved that for her. It gave her flexibility to be the kind of mother she wanted to be for Kennedi. It also allowed her to still feel like she had her own identity through her own career. What man wouldn’t want that for his wife?
I really don’t remember my own mom working much growing up. She was a stylist for a few people here and there, but outside of that, my father carried the load. And that’s what I wanted to do too. That’s what I learned.
Khloe came from that same world.
Her daddy still worked his ass off while her mom walked around in pearls, having lunch dates and tea parties with her friends. So I thought she would understand more than anyone.
I just let her talk while she unloaded every frustration she’d been holding onto.
Then, she snapped, “So you really just gonna sit there?”
I sighed and turned toward her. “Khloe… I really don’t know what you want from me. Yes, I work a lot. But I work for us. Could I be more present? Yes. I promise I’ll work on that. You deserve more time. But when I walk into this house, it’s the only place I feel like I can finally breathe. My body just shuts down. I’m tired. I’m sorry.”
She cut me off immediately. “You’ve been saying that for two years. I’m tired of that excuse. Come up with something else.”
