Chapter 27
madison
. . .
“Ican’t believe you still laugh when I hit that right spot,” Washington said.
I chuckled. “When I’m happy, I’m happy.” But the laughter I gave him while straddling him and trembling in his arms turned into a cackle.
Once I had recovered, I repositioned myself in the passenger seat of his Bentley.
We did not make it to the shower. However, the bright side?
That after rage-room fantasy that had him trying to break me away from a vehicle when he first brought me home got to be played out.
All the live oaks and his expert parking helped us since we were badass in a drop-top convertible.
“I can’t believe you threatened to sue them.” I was prolonging the inevitable as I stared at the black shutters of our home.
Washington rubbed a hand over his head. “I may include a couple more individuals in the lawsuit.”
I shifted in the buttery leather seat. “My parents?”
He winked as I slugged him softly. “Did I say that, bébé?”
“It’s okay. I would demand the return of mine and Lynn’s childhood if I had the courage to speak my mind.” I opened the door, and murmured, “Would you … add me?”
“What? Hell, nah, Madison.” He reached across the console, took my arm, stopping me from getting out.
I straightened in my seat again. After another quick glance at the house we turned into a home, my attention shifted to my man.
The sunlight brightened across his eyes, which were dark and searching me.
I rubbed a hand over my forearm. “I gave up, Wash. Yes, outside factors helped. But we hadn’t slept together while he was in a coma.
Two years. I think that makes me the problem. ”
“You needed time.”
The wind smelled like river mud as our front door stared at me like, You coming in or what?
It was the or what for me.
I gestured to my open passenger door. Washington nodded, stepped out of the driver’s side like the Secret Service. He helped me out, even though I had been fighting him all morning over the blanket I’d stolen from the hotel.
My stilettos hit the paving stones, and the air felt heavier. After drawing a breath, I took his hand, and we started up the path shaded by old oaks. Spanish moss hung low, brushing against my shoulders like a welcome home.
“At the funeral,” I sighed, “Bridget’s words helped validate my depression.”
He didn’t squeeze my hand. Didn’t scoop me up caveman-style and haul me inside. Washington stepped onto the wide veranda and allowed me to lead him around the back of the house.
The soft creak of the rattan bench accompanied us as we swung back and forth. A full-size, in-ground pool covered by a pergola, matching our historic aesthetic, provided a picture-framed view of the curvy Mississippi River.
“I stopped making grown folk’s decisions when I was depressed,” I murmured, feet dangling as our swing caught the breeze. “I hated you.” I swallowed. “Not because of the plane crash.”
My husband’s chest deflated as if someone had let the air out.
“I hated you for all the times you said, ‘Stop kissing that bébé. He’s gonna be soft.’ ” I gave Washington’s hand a squeeze. “And I hated you for all the memories where Elijah nearly pushed me to the ground when you got home.”
“Pushed you to the ground?”
“Boy, you had me jealous!” I threw up my hands.
“All he wanted was his daddy. And he was already four feet tall, Wash. That dang Babineaux height. Or should I say, Ezekiel Landry’s height.
Your momma sure knew how to pick them. You and Montana’s daddy, and the twins’ father created boys built for the NBA draft. ”
Washington cough-laughed.
“So, I hated you for that too. Because he was so tall. I wanted my baby to be a baby. He could-could’ve stayed little, longer.
” I shrugged. “Anyway, after we lost Elijah and then Bridget at the funeral … I started blaming me. Blamed my ambition. My extravagance. The store and the vacations. If I hadn’t wanted—”
“No, bébé, that accident wasn’t anymore your fault than it was mine.”
“I know. I know that now. But then. Maybe I should have told you what I overheard. I should have definitely told Shonda. Anyway, I decided I didn’t deserve my happily ever after. I gave up on … you.”
He leaned in and brushed my lips with his own. The touch of his mouth, softer than a whisper and infinitely patient, soothed and warmed me.
I glanced back at our house, a house so beautiful we’d poured an entire college fund into it.
“Elijah’s memories weren’t the only thing that kept me away.
I’d included this home in my HEA. I just got big mad at every facet of my life.
” I nudged him. “Now that the truth is out, I’m glad that Judge Baby Face Washington isn’t judging me. ”
“Baby face?” He rolled his eyes like I asked if crawfish was spicy.
“Boy, you should’ve seen yourself, all smiles when I giggled in the car. So proud of yourself, like a kid getting a gold star. Job well done.”
“Yep, I completed that task to perfection. Pleasing my woman,” he said, smiling. “But I’ve got a beard. Clearly not a baby face. You received grown-man energy, bébé. Thank me.”
“Thanks,” I replied, voice light with laughter.
“Yeah, alright. You know what, you never used to clown me, Madison.”
“Boy, when we met, I clowned you to ensure you remembered me after all the girls you knew in a biblical sense.” I grinned. “The whole you’re doing it wrong while dancing made me feel a little older since you were already in law school.”
“Yeah, but that occurred before we married. I see I need to put that ring back on you soon.”
I stood up. “A new ring.”
“You want a bigger ring?”
I stared at him, stone-faced. “Hell, no. I’m still coming down from the notion of blaming assets.
A platinum band works. No diamond. Or if you must, something from a Cracker Jack box.
I’m good. Simple. Or maybe … if you haven’t pawned it, you can give me the same ring you bought me after we made it big. It wasn’t that extravagant.”
Washington muttered, “It was that extravagant,” as he punched a code into the keypad.
“Sir,” I said with a tease, “please open this door so I can see my home. It’s family, remember?
Besides, my emotional breakthrough is over.
” I rubbed my hands together in anticipation.
Dang, when my mind did a complete 180, there was no stopping me.
“I’m ready to go inside. It’s now or never, baby. ”
“Okay, chère.” As he opened the door, the river drudged on with the consistency of applesauce. A wind stirred the tropical blue-green surface of our pool.
The second we entered the kitchen, he said, “I’ve gotta check the front door.”
“Texas wouldn’t leave the door unlocked.” My voice echoed throughout the kitchen and past my Viking Tuscany range, which was kind of intimidating for folks who couldn’t throw down when cooking.
“Mm-hmm. Wait for me, mon chère … bébé.” He started calling me all those sweet names, torn as he retreated toward the foyer.
It was now or never. I could do this. Air swooshed past my lips, and I started up the stairs. Grumbling, Washington strode past me with his long strides. Either he was worried that Texas had disappeared again, or he must’ve left the door open to Elijah’s bedroom.
“Don’t, Wash.”
He stopped and lowered his hand from Elijah’s doorknob. “Okay …?”
“Leave it. Let’s go get you that shower.” I stepped closer to him.
“You sure?”
“Wash, I’m trying not to be added to your lawsuit. It was rather convincing.” I chuckled, because maybe this 180-thing was like double Dutch. You get in, you get out, you let a tear fall and try again. I was afraid I might fall out.
“Maddy, you—”
I cut Washington off with my approach, taking his belt into my hands and unbuckling it.
That sound always did something to me. I tugged his short-cropped beard to bring his face down.
Between kissing and nipping his earlobe, I said, “I know you won’t turn on me.
Still. I’d love to serve you for all those years I pushed you away. ”
His gulp was as loud as if someone had struck a tuning fork. And it made me proud. I had this effect on my man. My husband. We just had to fix some paperwork issues.
I took his hand and led him through the wide doorway to our room. “C’mon, Dome Daddy.”
He was speechless for a moment. Then I was too.
He’d scattered delicate rose petals across the plush white goose-down duvet.
My favorite wine lay in a silver bucket that needed ice.
Red lingerie. New designer furry slippers.
I had tortured myself without those damn slippers.
I’d thrown mine away because they made me feel too cherished. Now, momma needed to cherish her man.
I led him into our spa, past the his-and-her vanity. Hell, the darn thing was big enough to host a designated theirs. He pressed a button on the phone as I kicked my heels off, and the bottoms of my feet got deliciously warm on the heated tile.
As he loosened the top button on his linen shirt, I took over. “Uh-uh.”
The spark in his eyes, dark and sultry, made my fingers tremble, and I worked my way down. God had given me this attractive, loving specimen. How could I have rejected him?
Anger. Grief. That’s how I denied every part of him.
Somehow we ended up in a shower long enough to create its own habitat at the Audubon Aquarium. And this man activated every showerhead. He was gonna milk this offer and pay for me to get a good flat iron, but I wasn’t mad at him.
For a moment I watched how steam licked over his wet muscles. Water sluiced over powerful pectorals, dripping down his six-pack, and I knelt to what beckoned me.