by C C Monroe
His facial expression softens. “It is. What a day, too. It’s like he knew you needed it,” he expresses, running his hand over the baby’s head of hair. In the past few months, his hair has grown long and wild like his daddy’s.
“I did. This right here”—I gesture to the moment and the three of us presently in it—“is what I live for. This is why I want to get better.”
“Me too. We have to, for him.” He drops his head and kisses Prince’s forehead before leaning in and watching, mesmerized as I feed him. As our son nurses, his little eyes close and small fist balls as he dozes off to sleep. This is all for my family. Every single choice I make from here on out is for my son and Kingston.
The evening goes on, and being surrounded by my family washes away the accident and anything else that could ruin this day.
Kingston has been home for two amazing weeks, and we have had the best time rekindling our romance. We have gone to therapy both weeks and talked more about the abuse. In our session yesterday, we talked about the dreadful final night, and Kingston had just as much to say about it as I did.
Turns out he was still struggling with the events of that night too, holding it in all these years in hopes I wouldn’t relive it. I’ve said it before, but I see more and more each day how much my past has not only affected me, but the others in my life as well. The therapist spent quite some time on Kings yesterday, and I don’t think I have ever seen him that vulnerable.
My heart opened up for him when he told his side of the story, and I swear I’ve been attached to his hip, just as much as he has been to mine. We have been inseparable, and the sex—the lovemaking—my God, it’s constant. And I love it. We’ve been making love any second we can, before Prince wakes up, on Kingston’s lunch break, when Prince goes to sleep, again in the shower. The other day, we made love on the hood of his car in the garage. Finding that hunger again, after so long without it, has been amazing. I feel in sync with Kingston. My heart is beating the same rhythm as his, and even when he is at work, I can feel him thinking of me right when I’m thinking of him.
Prince is down for his afternoon nap, and Kingston has left for the gym. Today being his one day off this week, he wanted to get some time in.
No complaints on my end. I love my muscle man.
My phone chimes a notification a few times and I rush to answer it, except when I do, I realize it’s not my phone. Kingston left his phone on the coffee table and it’s going off like crazy. Lifting it up, I see a Facebook Messenger notification. Curious to why there is so many in a row, I subconsciously open it, not thinking much of it.
Wishing I had thought it through, I do all but drop the phone. Seeing Hilary’s name on the screen has my blood boiling and my heart rate jacking to a hundred. He’s been talking to his ex—to the woman Joel cheated on me with. How could he do this?
I try to psych myself out and think maybe it’s innocent, but the more I scroll up, the sicker I become. The worst of it hits me like a brick when her nude picture fills the screen. Looking at the date, I think back instantly to that night, when I caught him pleasuring himself to something on his phone.
Oh my God.
I don’t think I’m going to be sick; I know I am. Putting his phone down, I bring my hands up behind my head and take deep breaths, trying to regain some air to my brain. I can’t believe he did this to me. I don’t care if he told her he wasn’t interested. That was after he entertained it for long enough.
So much for feeling connected. I feel betrayed. She was vile to me in high school, and then she slept with Joel just to spite Kingston and hurt me more in the process.
How could he do this to me?
I pace the living room, counting to three repeatedly, but I can’t seem to calm down. I’m hurt and beyond pissed. When Princeton’s cries carry through the upstairs hall and down the stairs, I set into motion, the entire time growing more agitated with each step. I hold Prince and hush him as I descend the stairs. Making his bottle, I almost don’t know how I do it, because I can’t remember anything other then that graphic picture.
“Baby, I’m back.”
His voice peeves me, making my skin crawl, and the second he comes into view, I break, shaking my head rapidly back and forth and letting the tears fall. I keep rocking our son as Kingston reaches me in a rush, dropping his gym bag at the garage door.
“Lana, are you okay?” He checks me over and I lose my restraint.
“No, it’s not. Your Facebook Messenger is blowing up. You should really check it.”
Looking bewildered, he shakes his head. “What?”
I turn to leave, needing some space, but I make sure he hears me loud and clear for this part. “Wouldn’t want to keep Hilary waiting.” With that, I head up the stairs, my adrenaline high and my body heavy with anger.
“Lana, fuck! Shit!”
I hear him coming up after me and I increase my speed. “No. Stay away from me. I can’t even look at you right now.” I slam our bedroom door before he can reach me, and I lock it with my free hand. Prince stares up at me, and I swear I can feel him looking into my soul. “I’m so glad you are too little to understand. ‘Cause Daddy really hurt your mama.”
His hands flex on the bottle and his green eyes begin to lazily flutter shut. What I wouldn’t give to switch places with him.
I hear Kings pacing the hall, using all his restraint, I’m sure, to not bust down this door to get to me. I hope he knows what this has done to me, how badly this hurt. Hilary is trash, danger, nothing but trouble, and whether he told her to leave him alone or not, he still let her in our life. She’s his ex, and her sleeping with Joel to hurt me after spending a few years sleeping with Kingston has me green with jealousy.
She wants in and he let her. He looked at her pictures, pleasured himself to her naked body, and I’m not going to sit here and act like it didn’t feel like a dagger to my heart when I learned that. With a tiny sigh, Prince finishes the bottle and I make work at burping him, doing whatever I can to get the image of her out of my head and the hurt from him out of my heart.
“Lana, I fucked up, baby. But it’s not what you think. Open the door so we can talk this out. Come on, baby girl.”
“No, Kingston, I don’t want to. Go give her a call and talk it out, since she’s who you turn to when we’re having problems,” I say through the door.
“Don’t act like that. We aren’t kids, Lana. Don’t fucking put me in that box,” he huffs. I don’t care if he thinks I’m childish for throwing a fit. My feelings are truly hurt. This isn’t just some high school game; this is my past knocking on the front door.
“You put yourself there. How could you look at her— How could you do that to me?” I drop my head, and suddenly I don’t feel like I can stay angry, at least as much as I would like to be. Instead, I have a strong moment of weakness, the pain taking advantage of that and seeping its way in.
“I swear to God, Lana. I didn’t.”
“I saw the picture, and I saw what you were doing that night. I know I was depriving us of that intimacy, and I know I haven’t looked my best since Prince was born, but that gives you no right to cheat on me.” I wipe at the tears and still bob our son on my hip as he chews on his finger.
“First, I didn’t fucking cheat. Second, don’t you ever say you aren’t anything but fucking perfect. I never cheated, and I never fucking will, so you can throw out that excuse and try again.”
If he could only see the way I am looking at him. My jaw practically falls to the floor and my eyes widen. Quickly, I close my mouth and grit my teeth.
“You are such a smug bastard. This isn’t an excuse, Kingston. I’m not doing this for fun or for attention. You hurt me and you messed up. You’re the one who did this. Don’t flip it on me.” I wait a second, hearing him move around outside the door. I think for a split second that maybe my words shut him up and he’s going to walk away so I can have some privacy.
But then I hear the loud shattering of glass and a dull cra
cking sound in the foundation of our house.
“Goddamn it, Lana, open the fucking door!” he roars, and I feel the rage all the way from here. I hurry to cover Princeton in a tight embrace, hoping he doesn’t cry when he shifts a little from my movement. Looking down, I see he has dozed off again and I breathe a sigh of relief.
Placing him down in the bassinet, I take a few long, drawn out breaths as I get ready to face Kingston. I would normally back down in fear, but instead I am ready to stand up and defend myself. He’s my partner, my best friend, the father of our child, and he betrayed me.
Opening the bedroom door, he pushes off the wall of the hallway and he’s on me before I can even protest. Picking me up with his large arms around my waist, he pulls me flush against him. I don’t resist, but I sure as hell do not make it easy, going dead weight in his arms.
“I fucked up. I talked to her, and that was my biggest mistake, but I never once flirted or indicated I wanted anything from her,” he whispers between us, the whole puppy dog look almost making me cave.
“Then why did you do it? Why even talk to her, knowing she wanted you and you could make her think you wanted her?” I find my voice again and reaffirm my stance.
“I don’t know. I guess I just wanted someone to talk to. You didn’t fucking want me, L. We were over, and I just liked knowing that the roles were reversed.”
I shake my head and push against his chest. That was the wrong answer. “Great, so you did want her attention. You wanted something out of this.”
“Yeah, fucking revenge!” he shouts as I break free from his hold.
“Revenge?” My head whips up and I glare into his dilated eyes.
“I wanted to watch someone want me while I pushed them away, because I had no interest in wanting them back—just like you did!”
Oh, that’s rich. How dare he do that and use me as his scapegoat!
“There was never a moment I didn’t want you! I wasn’t doing it because I didn’t want you. I was pushing you away so you wouldn’t want me! I know I’m fucked up in the head, Kings, and I tend to push away good things. But I never once didn’t want you. How dare you do that just to fucking spite me!” I yell, pushing past him, beyond angry, beyond hurt, beyond absolute madness. I’m furious.
“Don’t!” he shouts after me as I make my way down the stairs. I ignore him and keep going as he follows me. “Please, Lana, don’t!”
I keep going, giving him the best silent treatment yet, but before I even clear the last step, I am engulfed in his big, tatted arms, his huge frame eating my small one.
“Kingston!” I try to squirm from his hold, but he keeps a firm grasp on me.
“Don’t leave me again. Don’t walk away from us,” he whispers in my ear during my fit of movement, and abruptly I freeze hearing his words and the pained strain in his pitiful voice. I breathe in and out deeply, counting to three and lining my ducks in a row like Dr. Moore said before I attempt to talk back.
“Kings...”
“Baby, call me baby, please,” he begs, and my stomach drops, along with the rate of my heart. I debate it, debate against, and then decide to give in. Not because I’m weak or easily forgiving him, but because behind the anger, there is still his insecure lover, who needs to know I’m reading this wrong and that Hilary is not a threat to us.
“Baby...you hurt me.” Our emotions are high. We’re both learning how to communicate for the first time in our relationship, and it’s proving to be a lot harder than we thought. We always communicated with our bodies, never our words, and now we are being forced to handle our issues at face value, learning that sex cannot fix everything.
“I know I did, and I fucked up, but I never once had any intentions of ever letting it go anywhere. I don’t want her. I never did. Whenever I was with her—”
“Kingston, please don’t,” I cut him off, but he ignores me, squeezing me tighter to his taut frame.
“When I was with her, I saw you. You have no idea the things I was willing to do to have you, let alone what I was willing to do to pretend I had you. She never meant anything. She was just another means to owning you with my mind. I never fucking saw her. I’ve only ever seen you.”
My knees weaken, and for a brief second, the woman in me feels for Hilary, knowing all those years she gave herself to Kingston in hopes of having him forever that I was the one he really wanted, that he used her. I couldn’t imagine not having Kingston as mine forever, let alone knowing someone else out there occupied his every thought—even the ones when he was physically with me.
But that passes when the selfish part in me who belongs to Kingston feels relief. I wait a moment and let time pass us by, leaving the words hanging around us, before I turn in on him.
Kingston’s large, beast like frame stands as a wall in front of me, the king to his little queen, the beast to his beauty, the man to his little lady, and I feel safe. “Did you look at her picture when you were touching yourself that night?” I finally speak, needing to know the answer to at least this one.
“No. Never.” He reaches up and cocoons my face with his large palms. I close my eyes, and like a dream, I forget reality for a second and soak in his warmth with a sigh. “Look at me.”
I finally open my eyes and see that stark difference. He’s focused and determined to have my attention. “I was looking at you and me. The night you let me touch you for the first time, completely. When you let me see your scars. The night you let me own you.”
I gulp, remembering that night and feeling my stomach grow tight and heavy with butterflies.
“Do you remember that?” He breaks my trance and I nod, unable to find words. “You did something to me that night. You tore in like a hurricane and, with thunder and lightening, you created a fucking mess inside me.”
“You did the same to me. You make me crazy, Kingston. You have no idea the things I’m willing to do just to keep you.”
“That’s exactly what I want.” He leans in and licks the seam of my slightly agape lips, his breath hot against my now wet lip.
“Is it?” I moan when he brings his hand down and grips my neck, squeezing the thin column enough to render me paralyzed, yet not enough to hurt.
“It is. Want to know just how crazy I am over you? The things I want to do to you?”
“What?” I gasp when he flexes his hand, and I hang on every word.
“I want you pregnant again. Give me another baby and make my kingdom grow.”
I nearly choke on my moan and my head spins. “Kings, we just had Prince.” I hear the words leaving me, but I don’t really understand what I’m saying, too caught up in this fog.
“I know, and he’s fucking perfect. Give me more little ones like him. God, I wanna see you round again, fucking filled with me,”she groans, leaning in and biting my lip. I can’t believe we went from fighting to this, but I love it. He makes me feel owned, consumed by him.
“I see you never took your pills after Prince. Why do you think I’ve been fucking you bare any second I get? You’re mine, and I want my queen pregnant again. Tell me no.”
He’s not giving me a chance to say no; he’s basically threatening me to say no, so he can convince me otherwise.
Having another child with him sounds perfect. Trust me, Prince has made me baby-hungry for a whole tribe, but is it too much too soon? Are we rushing this? If I’m being honest, I think subconsciously I want this too. He’s right. Since Prince, I never started the birth control our doctor wanted me on, and what’s more is I could have started taking it when we became sexually active again, but I didn’t. I guess we may never learn.
“You aren’t just saying all this to make me forget about Hilary?” I murmur, my equilibrium lining back up.
“No, we already fucking forgot her, because she is nothing,” Kings says with surety.
“You’re mine, Lana, and for the rest of your fucking life, I will never stop what I feel. I’ll never stop being obsessed with you. Give me another son,” he growls,
moving suddenly, gripping me effortlessly around the waist, and bringing my legs around his hips. I groan behind his rough hand still on my neck.
I give a throaty giggle and whisper against his mouth, “What if it’s a girl?” And he takes that as my concession.
“Not yet. Our little men are coming first. They need to be ready to handle having you and another little princess like you.” Spinning, he moves us to the couch as I run my hands through his wild mane, the skin of his freshly buzzed crew cut scratching against my palms as they travel down to his full beard.
My Kingston has grown into a man, and I find bitter-sweetness in that, a sense of lust over watching him grow over the years. Seeing him go from a hotheaded teen to a cocky, confident father and man has brought me closer to him then ever, strengthening our bond. I’ve known Kingston as he has known me for more than half our lives, and yes, I was jealous, but now that I step back, I can see no one else has that. No one can touch that bond or even come close to comparing what we have to anything they have.
Sitting us down, me astride his lap, we start touching and playing. I laugh as he nips at my neck and whispers dirty secrets, and he growls when my body grinds down against him. And just as his shirt comes off and my tank straps have slid down my arms to expose my breasts, our sweet little man starts crying.
“Fuck. Almost had my afternoon quickie,” he groans, and I readjust myself, standing and hiding my breasts away. Kings looks frustrated, with his chest red from my scratch marks and his cock tenting his basketball shorts.
“You’re the one who wants another,” I tease, heading for the stairs.
“He’s lucky he’s so fucking cute, and I want more than another!” he yells after me, and I chuckle, my mood lightened and Hilary long forgotten like I want her to be. Holy cow, therapy is doing wonders for us.
“Girls night out! Yas!” Shayla hollers as we step into the swanky downtown nightclub. We haven’t had girl time in forever, and I’m starting to feel like myself more and more each day and part of that is spending time with the people I love most.