Nyce - Six Months Later
Nyce
Six Months Later
Princess’s legs trembled around my waist with her nails digging into my back. I had her folded up just the way she liked, that slow grind deep enough to make her cry my name.
Kissing her lips, I rolled off her and leaned back against the headboard, chest rising slowly while sweat cooled on my skin. Princess lay across me, breathing heavily. I dragged a hand down my face and stared up at the ceiling, thinking about the ribbon cutting today.
Six months of grind, politics, pressure, and late-night meetings.
Northside was finally getting something built for them, by them.
Townhomes, community center, grocery store, and after-school programs. Shit that mattered.
Not some fake-ass performative cleanup. Real development.
Real change. First up was the gated community.
And Princess was the blueprint behind it all. I really couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that she had a whole degree nobody gave a fuck about until I made sure her name was on the table. She sketched out the layouts and put real design behind the structure of everything.
I had never seen her so in her element, and every step of the way, she had me proud as fuck.
I was still proud even when she got on my nerves, flipping about the tiles in the rec room or the wrong trees being planted.
She was a beast at her job, and I appreciated the fuck out of her.
I ran a hand down her spine, tracing slowly, and let myself feel the weight of all of it.
We’d been through a lot, and we’d been building something beautiful.
She kissed my chest, soft and warm. “Baby,” she whispered. “We’re gonna be late.”
I glanced down at her. Her eyes were half-lidded, hair all wild. “Dr. Calloway’s ass can wait,” I muttered, dragging a palm down her bare ass.
She laughed and swatted my stomach, rolling off me and heading for the bathroom. “No, she can’t. You know she charges two hundred dollars an hour.”
I smirked as she disappeared behind the door, the sound of water running not long after. My phone buzzed on the nightstand. I grabbed it and checked messages. Drugs, guns, and gambling. I sent quick replies and sighed heavily.
Therapy wasn’t my idea, but Princess brought it up first. She said if we were going to be serious, we needed help unlearning some shit.
Trauma. Triggers. Patterns. All the shit we never had time to understand in survival mode.
I didn’t argue. I just showed up week after week and sat beside her.
Some days, I hated it. Other days, I needed it.
Most days, I left feeling like we actually had a shot, not just at making it work, but at really healing.
From the bathroom, I could hear Coco Jones singing through the Bluetooth speaker. It was some shit I never used to fuck with, but it grew on me. Princess was always playing music around the new house we had built, humming softly like it somehow reset her mind.
Making my way towards the bathroom, I stepped into the shower. She stood under the spray, soap lathered across her skin, head tilted back like she was in her own world. “Fucking fine,” I said, voice low.
She opened her eyes and smiled. “Finally decided to join me?”
I stepped in behind her, slid my hands over her hips, and kissed her shoulder. “You good with your moms lately?”
Her face softened. “Yeah, she’s good. We’re working on our relationship, but it’s hard because she still doesn’t approve of us.
“Time heals all.”
Looking up at me, she asked, “Does it really, though? True work has to be put in for healing to take place, and I mean… while she’s in Maryland, I don’t see that happening yet. But… I’m hopeful.”
I nodded. “I feel you. Have you heard from your bitch ass… I mean… Zeke?”
Princess elbowed me playfully, then turned in my arms. “No, I haven’t, and I told you I’m okay with that. He and my mother are officially divorced.”
“Cool.” I kissed her neck. “Now, enough about all that. Today’s about us.”
Soon enough, we were at Dr. Calloway’s office. The space was the same as always, smelling of sage, leather, and those little wood-wick candles Princess loved. She always noticed shit like that. Me? I noticed how I’d stopped sitting with my arms crossed every time we had a session.
We sat down on the white leather couch, and I let my arm stretch along the back of the couch. Dr. Calloway clicked her pen and looked between us, that calm, unreadable face she wore in every session.
“Six months,” she said. “And here you both are.”
“Here we are,” Princess repeated, her voice soft but firm. “Still breathing.”
I gave a low grunt. “Still showing up.”
Dr. Calloway nodded. “Showing up is half the battle. But today, I want us to talk about what’s changed. Not just individually, but between you.”
Silence stretched for a second. I looked down at my hands, flexed my fingers once, then glanced at Princess. “You going first or you want me to?”
She leaned back, crossing one leg over the other, voice steady. “He listens more now. Not always, not perfectly, but it’s not like pulling teeth every time I say something that rubs him the wrong way.”
I scoffed lightly. “You still do shit that rubs me the wrong way.”
She side-eyed me but didn’t argue. “And I think I understand him better now. I understand that just because he’s quiet doesn’t mean he’s shut down. His anger doesn’t always come from the present moment. Sometimes it’s the past creeping in.”
I cleared my throat and sat up straighter. “I learned I don’t have to be at war all the time, especially at home.”
Dr. Calloway gave a small smile. “That’s a big one.”
“Yeah, well,” I said, rubbing my thumb against my thigh. “You grow up how I did, feelings get you smoked. Or used. Or both.”
Princess reached for my hand then and gave it a squeeze.
“And I learned,” I said, eyes on the floor, “that I was waiting for her to leave the whole time until recently. Waiting for her to say she couldn’t handle me and just walk away.”
Her breath caught, but she didn’t interrupt.
“I didn’t say shit though. Just kept bracing myself. Still gave her what I could. Still fucked her like I meant it. Protected her like I was supposed to. But emotionally?” I glanced at her. “I was still hiding.”
Dr. Calloway leaned forward slightly. “And now?”
I shrugged. “Now I’m tryna stop hiding. Still don’t like how vulnerability feels and all that.
Still don’t fully trust the shit. But I’m learning because she deserves that.
” Princess exhaled sharply, and I looked over at her, then back at Dr. Calloway.
“She’s seen the darkest shit in me and stayed. I don’t take that lightly.”
“Neither do I,” Princess whispered.
Dr. Calloway gave a small nod, flipping her notebook closed. “What do you want next? Together.”
Princess inhaled, then said, “Peace and stability, not perfection or fairytales. I want honesty, communication, and maybe a little one running around one day.”
I chuckled at that.
“And you, Nyce?” Dr. Calloway asked.
I met her gaze. “I want to keep building with her, and I’m not speaking just about the properties. The soft shit too. I wanna keep the close mornings. The arguments we bounce back from. The kind of love I didn’t think niggas like me deserved.”
The room got real quiet and no one said shit for a moment. Everything just sat there. Then Dr. Calloway smiled. “That sounds like healing.”
Princess leaned into me then, finally letting her head rest against my shoulder.
“I got one more thing,” I said, and Dr. Calloway gestured for me to go on.
“I know I’m still rough. Still flawed. Still working through some of my demons.
But I also know I ain’t the same cold nigga that pulled her into my house and chained her to trauma I didn’t fully understand. ”
Princess's eyes got glassy, but she didn’t break her contact.
“I love you,” I said, voice low but sure. “That’s what’s changed.”
There was silence again as Dr. Calloway closed her notebook fully. “Then I think we can call this chapter complete.”
We all stood, shook hands, and Princess reached for her purse while I grabbed her other hand. We stepped out of Dr. Calloway’s office and into the hallway. Then she tugged me back. Right there in the hall, just outside the elevator, Princess stopped me.
“Hold on,” she said softly.
I turned, caught the look in her eyes behind those big ass glasses. Then she stood up on her toes, one hand gripping the collar of my shirt, and pulled me down into her mouth. The kiss was slow, causing my dick to brick up instantly. When she pulled back, her breath was warm on my lips.
“I love you too, babe,” she whispered.
I loved hearing her say that shit. I let my forehead rest against hers for a second. “Tell me again,” I murmured, low.
She smiled. “I love you, Nyles Lamont Richards.”
I stepped back, tongue running across my bottom lip as I glanced down at her. The black leather one-piece she had on under her cropped jacket wasn’t playing fair. It hugged her body so tight, it had no business being legal. I shook my head with a smirk. “Can’t wait to suck on that pussy later.”
She blinked slowly, that breath catching in her throat just like I knew it would. “Nyce…”
“What? I’m just speaking facts, baby.”
Her cheeks warmed up, but she tried to play it cool and turned toward the elevator, muttering, “Come on. We’ve got business to handle.”
I trailed behind her, slow, eyeing the way her ass moved with each step. That little switch in her hips was purposeful and confident. “Damn,” I muttered under my breath. “That walk is gonna be the death of me.”
She looked over her shoulder. “Eyes on the prize, sir.”
“Yeah, they are,” I grinned as we stepped into the elevator. She bit back a smile, shaking her head.
Later on, at the ribbon cutting, the applause hit before the scissors even big ass touched the ribbon. Reporters lined the barricades in droves, cameras flashing like we were celebrities. Suits and city officials clapped from behind the press line.
The entire Northside of Havencrest had shown up.
In the crowd were residents, business owners, the media, and even a few clean-faced politicians who used to turn their noses up at me.
Now they smiled in my direction like they’d been rocking with me from the jump.
Funny how fast power flipped a narrative.
I stood at the podium, in a black peacoat, crisp button-down shirt, tailored slacks, AP on my wrist, braids pulled back.
Crook, Pointer, and Swank were all standing behind me dressed like the fucking Secret Service.
Meanwhile, to the left of me, stood Princess, calm and flawlessly fucking beautiful.
The Northside was different now.
This gated community was cleaner than a bitch, structured, and functional.
Affordable housing blended with luxury. Kids had a rec center, pools, a playground, a fitness hub, and a basketball court.
Families had safety. I had ownership. Every nail, every wall, and every streetlight had my name attached to it.
Pointer leaned toward me. “I think they ready for you, bro.”
I adjusted the mic and cleared my throat.
“I appreciate everybody for showing up today,” I started, voice steady. “This has been a long time coming. What you’re looking at behind me isn’t just buildings. It’s opportunity. It’s change.”
Applause erupted as cameras flashed. I paused for effect, letting the crowd lean in a little.
“I wanna take a moment to acknowledge the loss of Councilman Lancaster. This was something he and I…” I cleared my throat like I needed a second. “…were supposed to work on together. It’s unfortunate he isn’t here to see it through.”
Cameras flashed again, and some folks nodded, faces drawn in sympathy that matched the facade of mine.
“He believed in this project and believed in bringing real change to inner city neighborhoods that have been overlooked for so long. So… we push forward in honor of that vision and in service of the people.”
Applause erupted again, and I let these muthafuckas think I really meant all that sentimental shit about Don. The real ones knew the truth. I glanced beside me as I reached for Princess’s hand before I continued.
“Together, we can do anything. I put my people first and I protect what’s mine.”
One lady from Channel 15 news raised her mic. “Mr. Richards, before the loss of Councilman Lancaster, you all were discussing other developments as well, correct? Can we expect more projects under your leadership?”
I smirked. “Absolutely. With an architect as smart and beautiful as my woman, you can expect a lot more from us and my team.”
Princess stepped in closer. Together, we cut the ribbon and the crowd cheered like we just dropped the winning play at the Super Bowl. My niggas dapped me up. A second later, I felt Princess lean in and whisper against my neck, “You did it.”
I pulled her in for a quick kiss on the lips that was respectable for the cameras, but just enough to let the city know who the fuck was next to me. “Nah, baby. We did it, baby.”
After handshakes and photo ops, the crowd started to move behind us as we offered a full tour of the gated community.
Once it was over, my niggas, Princess, and I walked back toward the damn near vacant parking lot.
They went their separate ways to handle business while we climbed into the back of the Rolls.
“Today was a good day,” she murmured, reaching for the champagne in the minibar. She poured some into two glasses and passed me one.
We clinked glasses. “It was,” I replied, gulping it down. “You ready to eat? We got reservations at that French spot you like.”
“Well, qui qui,” she smiled, sipping her champagne before taking my glass.
I chuckled, reaching into my peacoat for the blunt I couldn’t wait to smoke. After sparking it up, I took a deep pull, held it, and exhaled slowly. Princess kicked off her shoes, curled into me, and I held onto her. Locking eyes with Belvin in the rearview, he slowly smirked, and I nodded once.
Say what you want. It is what it is. I wasn’t ashamed to say I was gone off the preacher’s daughter.
No woman could say that they had me like Princess did and I was cool with that.
She didn’t just change the way I move, she made me look in the mirror and own every part of me. The good, the bad, and the fucked up.
I’d built empires off fear and leverage, but loving Princess took intention, restraint, and growth I never thought to tap into. And I’d keep choosing her day after fucking day.