7. Pluto Mensah
Trill-Land, Jungle Estate
To say I was back to being a happy wife would be an understatement.
For the past few weeks, me and Pressure had been finding our way back to each other in ways that felt good to my heart and my spirit.
Therapy had been helping us say things we used to hold in.
The prayer room had become one of my favorite places in the house because it gave us somewhere quiet to lay everything down before it followed us into our bed.
I had spent so much time being tired, frustrated, overwhelmed and angry after having Isley that I didn’t realize how much of myself had been sitting under all of that until I started feeling like me again.
Pressure never made me feel punished for it. He never walked around throwing it in my face when I had a rough day. He never acted like loving me had become too much work, even when I knew I hadn’t been the easiest woman to love during that season.
He kept our house together. He made sure our children had what they needed.
He made sure I had help before I ever had to ask for it.
He prayed with me, sat in therapy with me, took me away when I needed room to breathe and kept looking at me like I was still his peace even when I knew I had been bringing him storms. So I started showing up for him different.
At first, it was small things. I would wake up before him and lay out what he needed for the day. His clothes would be pressed and waiting, his watch beside them, his shoes where he could see them and his cologne sitting on the dresser.
I learned the days he needed something clean and simple for business and the days he needed to step out looking like the man everybody knew not to play with.
Pressure noticed everything, even when he didn’t say much. Sometimes he would come out of the bathroom, look at what I had laid out and glance over at me with that look in his eyes that always made me feel like he was touching me before his hands ever reached me.
Then I started cooking more. Not just making sure food was in the house, but cooking for him the way a wife cooks when she knows her husband has been moving all day.
Oxtails with rice and peas, smothered turkey wings, baked chicken with gravy, greens with smoked turkey, cabbage, cornbread, candied yams and whatever else I knew would make him sit down for a real meal instead of grabbing something quick and calling it enough.
Pressure loved home-cooked food. He could eat anywhere he wanted, have anything brought to him or have a chef make whatever crossed his mind, but there was something about seeing him at our table with a plate I made that did something to me.
When he came home late, I had his shower and clothes ready.
When he was tired, I rubbed his shoulders without asking him if he needed it.
When he sat on the edge of the bed with business still sitting on his face, I stood between his legs and kissed his forehead until he wrapped his arms around my waist. The more I cared for him, the more I understood how much he had been carrying without making noise about it.
Pressure was always the person people expected to handle things.
In our house, in his family, in his business and in my life, he had always been the man who stepped in and made sure everything kept moving.
I wanted him to know he could stop moving sometimes and still be taken care of.
Now, I had been waiting on him since before seven.
Pressure was trying to make it home before his game came on, and I already had the house exactly how I wanted it.
Zurie, Prestyn, Kaylon and Isley were on the other side of the mansion with the nannies.
They had eaten, they were bathed and everything they needed was already handled.
I checked on them twice, kissed Isley’s little cheeks until she started fussing and made sure Zurie knew she could have one of the nannies come find me if she needed me for anything important.
Once I knew my children were good, I gave myself permission to focus on my husband.
Pressure’s food had been warming on the stove for almost two hours.
I had made blackened snapper with a mango pineapple salsa, coconut rice, garlic butter asparagus and fried plantains on the side.
I had a small pot of pepper shrimp warming on the back burner too.
It was the kind of plate Pressure would sit down for.
It wasn’t too heavy but still full of flavor, and I kept everything warm because I wanted him to eat as soon as he came home.
Upstairs, his gray silk pajamas were laid out across the bed with fresh briefs, his slides near the footboard and his lotion sitting on the nightstand.
I had his towel folded in the bathroom, his shampoo and conditioner ready and the washcloths placed where I could reach them.
When I heard the front door open, I was already standing here.
Pressure stepped inside looking fine enough to make me forget I had a whole plan.
He had on dark pants, and a black shirt that fit him too well.
His low cut was fresh, his waves were laid and his beard was thick and lined like he had just left the barber.
He looked tired around the eyes, but he still looked like Pressure who was strong, handsome and too fine for his own good.
His eyes landed on me, and his whole face softened in that way it only did when he was home with me.
He closed the door behind him, then reached for me without saying anything at first. I walked right into him, and he pulled me close with one arm around my waist and the other hand sliding to the back of my neck.
“Come here,” he said, voice low.
I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him before I could answer.
Pressure held me tighter and kissed me back deep and warm at the front door like he had been waiting all day to get to me.
His tongue slid against mine, and I melted into him without fighting it.
One of his hands moved down to my lower back, pressing me closer while I held on to him and let that kiss remind both of us we were home.
When I finally pulled away, I kept my arms around his neck and looked into his eyes. He stared back at me for a moment, then leaned in and kissed me again like he hadn’t finished taking what he wanted from my mouth.
“How was your day?” I asked when he let me breathe.
Pressure let out a tired sound and shook his head while his hands stayed on me. “Long as fuck. Them niggas at the restaurant was movin’ slow today. I walked in there and had to ask one of ‘em if he came to work or came to be furniture.”
I smiled because that sounded exactly like him. “Pressure.”
“What?” he asked, looking offended. “Baby, I’m serious.
Nigga was standin’ by the register lookin’ confused, and I’m like, bro, the menu been the same all week.
How the fuck you lost at yo’ own job, dumb ass nigga?
And this exactly why I get my ass up to go check on my shit every day. Fuck all the dumb shit.”
I laughed soft and rubbed the back of his neck. “And the dispensary?”
“That was smoother. I still had to get on ‘em too though. Everybody wanna be paid like they run shit until it’s time to actually run shit.”
I shook my head and kissed the corner of his mouth. “What time does your game come on?”
“Nine-thirty,” he said, glancing toward his watch before looking back at me. “Why?”
“It is only seven-fifteen, so you have time.”
His eyes moved over my face like he was trying to figure out what I had planned.
“Time for what?”
“For me to take care of you.”
Pressure looked at me for a second, and something in his face changed. He tightened his arm around me and kissed my forehead.
“Where my babies?” he asked.
“The nannies have them. They already ate, they clean and everyone is settled.”
“All of ‘em?”
“All of them,” I said. “You are not needed over there right now.”
He looked amused. “You kickin’ me off daddy duty?”
“For a little while, yes.”
Pressure licked his lips and nodded slowly. “I can live with that.”
I took his hand and led him toward the elevator. He followed without rushing me, and when we stepped inside, I leaned into his side while our fingers stayed locked together.
Pressure pressed a kiss against my temple, and I turned into him, kissing up his neck while the elevator took us upstairs. His hand moved to my waist, then to my ass, squeezing then smacking it. He let out a low breath when my mouth brushed the skin under his jaw.
“Pluto,” he warned like he was ready to take my clothes off in the elevator.
I smiled against his neck. “I’m just saying hello.”
“Oh yeah? Just sayin’ hey, huh?” He replied, starin’ down at me while butting his bottom lip.
Before I could answer, he squeezed my ass again.
When the elevator opened, we walked in our room together.
I had left the lights low and the bathroom ready and Pressure noticed the pajamas on the bed before his eyes came back to me.
Pressure did so much for everyone else that I wanted to be the one who cared for him the most.
He let me undress him piece by piece. I slid his shirt from his shoulders, set his watch on the dresser, then unbuttoned his pants and pushed them down once he stepped out of his shoes.
Pressure watched me the whole time, his eyes dark and warm at once, and when he was standing in front of me in nothing but his briefs, I stepped closer and kissed the middle of his chest. My hand moved down his abs, slow enough to feel the way his muscles tightened under my palm, then I slipped my fingers under the band of his briefs and wrapped my hand around his dick.
He was already hard for me, and the feel of him made my body soften against his.