“Yeah. I’m waiting for you to do my hair.”
“Okay. I’m on my way.”
“Did you enjoy your spa day?”
“Oh my God, Russell. It was so good, I got a monthly membership.”
“That’s good, baby. I’m glad you enjoyed it. Did you put the membership on my card?”
“Umm, if yours was the card on file, I sure did.”
He chuckled. “You knew damn well that was my card, but it’s cool. I would’ve had you change it anyway.”
“You should come with me to get pampered. They?—”
“Nah. I’m good, baby. The only person I want rubbing on me is you. I could use a good rub down since I haven’t had one since you abandoned me.”
“On that note, I gotta go. See you soon. Love you.”
I ended the call before he could return the sentiment. It seemed that everyone wanted to remind me that spending a year apart from Russell was my fault. Technically, it was, but he gave me an ultimatum, and since I wasn’t ready to tell him I couldn’t have children, I had no choice. So, in my mind, it was just as much his fault.
When I arrived home, I stopped at the main house, but everyone was out and about except Mama Rush. She said Rocky had taken Bliss, RJ, and Briar to the arcade, and Papa Rush decided to tag along, but my sisters hadn’t come home from the flower shop yet.
I chatted with her for about thirty minutes before leaving. When I entered the suite, Russell was sitting on the couch watching TV, wearing nothing but shorts and a towel wrapped around his neck.
“Looks like somebody is eager to get their hair washed,” I teased.
He smiled. “Nah. I’m just ready to be close to you and feel your hands on me.”
When I was close enough, he pulled me onto his lap. I put the arm closest to his body around his neck as our lips connected. He kissed me like we’d been apart for days when it had only been a few hours.
“Did you miss me?” I asked.
“You can’t tell?”
“Yeah, but I like to hear it.”
“I missed you, baby.” He pecked my lips a few times. “You ready to do my hair? I don’t want us to be late for our plans tonight.”
“Yeah.”
He carried me, bridal style, into the kitchen before putting me down in front of the sink. Everything I needed was already on the counter, so we got started.
I loved Russell’s hair, and washing and braiding it was one of my favorite things to do. There was something soothing and therapeutic about massaging his scalp and running my fingers through his tresses.
In the past, we’d had some of the best conversations while I did his hair. Honestly, the first time Russell opened up to me and showed me his sensitive side was while I did his hair. Although I teased him about not getting his hair done, I appreciated that he only wanted me to do it.
“Your fingers and hands are magical, baby,” he complimented as I massaged the shampoo into his scalp.
“Your fingers and hands have been known to work some magic. I’m a witness.”
We laughed at my response, then he said, “I do what I can.”
Thirty minutes later, I’d finished blow-drying his hair and oiling his scalp. We were back in the living room, and I was sitting on the couch with Russell on the floor between my legs. He preferred his hair in plaits, so I parted it in sections.
“I talked to Mr. and Mrs. Porter today.”
“Who’s that?”
