Chapter 18
18
Mona
M y mother’s words had been on replay in my head since our party. When’s the wedding? The thought of Clinton proposing was terrifying, and I didn’t want my mother, or anyone else, to put the idea in his head. We hadn’t discussed marriage, and it was a topic I would avoid like the plague.
When I pulled my mother to the side, she had to calm me down, because I was on the verge of panicking. I didn’t go into much detail, but I briefly shared my fears with her. She said all the right things, reassuring me that my feelings were understandable and valid, but suggested I talk to my therapist about it.
I’d decreased my therapy visits to biweekly, and I hadn’t discussed my fears about marriage with her. Dr. Varner knew everything I knew about Clinton, but our conversations remained in the past and present, never the future. However, today would be the day.
“Is the baby still treating you well?” Dr. Varner asked as we got settled, her in a sofa chair and me on the couch.
“This baby is a gem. I have no complaints about this pregnancy at all.”
“That’s wonderful. I pray it continues as these weeks fly by. Besides the baby, how have the last two weeks been?”
“Oh God, so much has happened. I told you that Clinton and I planned a joint birthday party, right?”
“Yes, how did that go?”
“Overall, it was great. We were able to introduce each other to our families and announce my pregnancy at the same time.”
“That’s great, but I’m guessing something happened you want to talk about.”
I nodded. “My mother asked when Clinton planned to make an honest woman out of me. I was so embarrassed.”
“Well, from a parental standpoint, it’s a valid question.”
“It is, but…”
“But what?”
“I don’t want to get married again.”
Dr. Varner tilted her head to the side. “And why is that?”
“To me, marriage is a one-time thing. The plan was to do it once and make it last forever. Obviously, it didn’t work as I planned, and when my divorce was finalized, I vowed never to marry again.”
She jotted a few things on her notepad before responding. “When you started therapy, you shared that you almost took your life and didn’t go through with it because God sent you an angel by the name of Clinton.”
“That’s correct.”
“You said, and I quote, ‘ I’d lost hope and was filled with despair until he came along with his soft kisses, magical tongue, and immaculate dick, saying everything I needed to hear.’ ”
“You wrote that down?”
She smiled. “I write a lot of things down, but my point is, you gave this man credit for saving your life.”
“He did.”
“If God sent him to save your life, is it out of the realm of possibility that He also sent him to be your next husband?”
“If God wanted me to be married, He would’ve made my first marriage work.”
“Maybe you chose the wrong person the first time.” She flipped through her notebook. “I have a page full of red flags you told me you ignored about Winston. Shall I read them?”
“Please don’t. I’m well aware of all the signs I ignored.”
“Your marriage didn’t work because God didn’t choose Winston for you. He tried to show you, but you didn’t listen to your gut. You chose to be hardheaded, but it’s time you take accountability for your poor decisions.”
I left Dr. Varner’s office a mess, still unsure if marriage was in my future. Although we hadn’t discussed it, I felt it was only fair to share my feelings with Clinton.
We’d driven separately to work that day because of my therapy appointment. When he arrived at my apartment that evening, I had a candlelight dinner prepared.
“Oh, this is nice. What’s the occasion?” he asked while we embraced.
“No occasion. I felt like cooking for my man.” I kissed him passionately, and when his hands began to roam, I pulled away. “There will be time for that later. You hungry?”
His hands moved from my ass to my stomach, and he gently caressed it. “I’m starving. Did you and the baby have a good day?”
“We did. Wash your hands, and I’ll make our plates.” I kissed him again before we separated.
A few minutes later, we met at the table. I made steak, roasted potatoes, and fried asparagus. To drink, he had a beer and I had water.
“This looks and smells delicious, baby. Thank you.”
“You don’t have to thank me. I can cook more often, but you seem to prefer eating out.”
“I don’t prefer it, but it’s what I’m used to. As a single man who worked late hours, it was easier. However, from now on, I’ll make sure the kitchen is fully stocked.”
We ate a few bites, and I watched his expression to make sure he enjoyed each one.
“How was work today?” I asked.
“Pretty lowkey. I didn’t have any meetings, so I was able to get a lot of paperwork done. How about you?”
“It was fine. The attorney I work for just wrapped up a big case and bought lunch for everyone to celebrate.”
“That was nice. How was therapy?”
My body tensed, and I prayed Clinton hadn’t noticed. “It was… interesting.”
“I’m not trying to pry, but I’m all ears if you want to share.”
I sighed and said a quick prayer in my head. “Did you hear those questions my mother asked at our party?”
“I think everyone heard her, baby.”
“I don’t want you to feel pressured to propose.”
He chuckled before eating a piece of steak. “I can’t get you to agree to move in with me. I’d be crazy to ask you to marry me. I’m a man, but my heart can’t take that much rejection.”
“Oh, umm, okay. I just didn’t want you to feel pressured because of my mother.”
“If I proposed, would you agree to move in with me?”
“We don’t have to be engaged or married to live together. I’m not interested in doing any of it.”
He frowned. “You’re saying you don’t want to move in with me, get engaged, or get married?”
“I mean, eventually, we can live together, but after the disastrous marriage I just got out of, marriage is not on my radar.”
“Hmm,” he responded, seemingly in deep thought. “That’s good to know.”
“Are you cool with that?”
He shrugged. “If I want to be with you, I have no choice but to be cool with it.”
I waited to see if he would say more, but he didn’t. We finished eating in silence, and the tension was thick. I didn’t want to spend the rest of our evening at odds, so while he showered, I prepared to take his mind off our conversation.
“What’s all this?” he asked when he saw the setup.
“I want to pamper you if that’s okay.”
“I’m down.”
For the next few hours, I gave him a mini spa treatment. I started with washing his hair and beard, spending ample time massaging his scalp and stroking his beard. After cleansing and exfoliating his face, I cleared his pores before gently massaging for a few minutes.
Once I had applied the mask on his face and cucumbers over his eyes, I got two bowls and filled them with oatmeal and lavender to soak his hands. I thought he might start complaining by the time I reached this point, but he was a willing participant.
I filled my foot spa with warm water and Epsom salt. He nodded off while his hands and feet soaked, and I removed the mask and cucumbers from his face before applying the skin toner and moisturizer.
He was in and out of sleep while I gave him a basic manicure followed by a pedicure. When I finished, I woke him up with kisses all over his face.
“Damn, that was amazing. Thank you, baby.” He pulled me onto his lap and showered me with kisses.
“You’re welcome. Have you ever gone to a spa?”
“I’ve never even thought about it, but I thoroughly enjoyed this experience.”
“Good.”
“You know what I’d enjoy even more?”
“What’s that?”
“Having my pussy on a platter. I want to see how many licks it’ll take to get that gushy stuff in the center.”
“Mmm, and what else?”