Page 23 of And It’s Still You

Shea always had a way of getting me to view things differently.

A week had passed since everything went down, and my arm was feeling good enough for me to cook breakfast as a peace offering to Shea.

The conversation we had a few days ago had been replaying in my mind. It made me think back to our encounters over the years. I dissected every conversation we’d had and realized Shea was right. We could be talking about the weather, and I’d find a way to bring up the past. I’d find a way to jab my finger into his chest, not realizing I had four fingers pointing back at me.

While Shea choosing JMG over our marriage was the biggest problem, I couldn’t place the full blame on him. I wasn’t always the perfect wife either. There were times I was stubborn and pushed him away when he was trying. If he didn’t quit JMG completely, I didn’t think it was good enough. I didn’t appreciate the effort he put in, and I had to take accountability for that.

The sound of Ocean’s slippers gliding across the floor behind me made me turn around. He stood there, rubbing his eyes in his favorite pajamas. When he realized it was me, he wasted no time coming over and burying his face into my stomach, like he always did when he first woke up.

“Good morning, Bubba,” I greeted, rubbing up and down his back with my free hand. “How did you sleep?”

“Good. What are you cooking?”

“Pancakes, grits, eggs, and bacon.”

“Daddy likes all that.”

I snickered. “I know. That’s why I’m cooking it.”

“How are you doing it with one hand? Is it not hard? I can help you, Mommy. I always help Daddy cook when he doesn’t have a chef over.”

Those were the types of luxuries I missed. Shea would randomly have a chef prepare our meals, a housekeeper to clean the house, and other help that I missed. I loved that Ocean continued to experience it.

“It hasn’t been hard, because I can use both hands. It’s just a certain way I do it. How about you help me with the pancakes and eggs? After that, you can go wake your father up to eat.”

“Okay!”

Ocean and I maneuvered our way around Shea’s spacious kitchen. In the divorce, we agreed to rent our marital home and split the income from it. Shea being the man that he was would deposit his half into the account we shared for Ocean.

I loved the home I’d made for me and Ocean, but day by day, I was falling more in love with Shea’s home. With him growing up in a large home, I wasn’t surprised his was five bedrooms and four bathrooms. He had more than enough room for him and Ocean. I saw every part of him in it, mixed with a little Ocean. It was cozy and felt like a true home.

Once Ocean and I were done cooking, I set the table while he went to wake up Shea. It took me a little second to find his plates and utensils, and when I did, I snickered. He had everything placed exactly how we did in our home. Maybe there was a little me sprinkled throughout his house that I would find.

“I knew I smelled something good.”

Shea’s voice caressed my ears. I turned around and had to will myself not to look all over his body. Time had been so good to him. When I touched his chest the other day, I knew I was treading on dangerous territory, but I couldn’t help myself. The lettering of Ocean’s name was stunning. Whoever did it outdid themselves. That wasn’t what got me. It was the way my body reacted being skin to skin with Shea. The way my entire body warmed from just a trace of my finger went straight to my center.

I knew exactly what I was going when I rubbed his nipple. It used to be a habit, so my body just did it. Him grabbing my wrist was the best thing because the way that man still made me weak in the knees would have had them up in the air as well.

“Thank you,” I replied, smiling. “I thought this would be a good peace offering.”

Shea side-eyed me. “For?”

“Let’s sit down first.”

While Shea got Ocean situated, I plated the food and poured us some orange juice. Shea prayed over breakfast, and we dug in. The only sound that could be heard was the clicking of our forks. Ocean’s was the loudest. I glanced over, and half of his plate was gone.

“Goodness, Son. Slow down. The food isn’t going anywhere,” I teased.

“This is good, Mommy. Not as good as Daddy’s food but still good.”

My mouth hung open, and Shea chuckled while giving Ocean a fist bump. I waved him off and kept eating.

“Well, at least you like it.”

Shea complimented, “It’s good, for real. Nostalgic too. Remember the first time you tried to make grits for me?”

“And I burnt the hell out of them and the pan.” I flung my head back and cackled. “Man, I was so embarrassed because I had been hyping myself up to you about how I could get down in the kitchen.”