Chapter 3 Khloe
Khloe
By the time we made it downstairs, the dining table was already set. Gia was talking per usual and mid-sentence when we walked in.
“—it’s not just the bag,” she was saying, waving her wine glass, “it’s the story behind the design. They only made forty of them this season. I had to have it flown in straight from Paris. It’s a collectible.”
Tatum, sitting across from her, looked at her like she was wearing royalty. His eyes shined with pride that came from knowing he was the reason she was that happy.
“I’m glad I could get it for you, baby,” he said, then glanced across the table toward Kairo who was taking his seat. “All those late nights and early mornings help make that happen.”
They clinked glasses like two proud providers basking in the applause of their wives’ luxury.
I rolled my eyes before I could stop myself. That was the problem. They measured devotion by receipts, labeled love in shipping confirmations, and counted connection in carats.
But never understood that the most precious thing was time, and you can’t buy time. It was the one thing no one at that table seemed to value anymore.
Gia kept going on about a new bracelet and an upcoming trip. Kairo and Tatum were eating it up. I smiled when I was supposed to, chewed slowly, and counted the minutes until the lunch was over.
I was reaching for my glass when Gia turned her attention to me.
“So Khloe…” she said, leaning forward with her chin propped on her hand, “when’s the next time you’re going to that bougie-ass spa you love so much? I told the girls that we should tag along.”
Everyone at the table looked at me.
She was talking about Velour & Vines—the private spa and retreat I’d been a member of for the past three years.
It wasn’t just a spa. The kind of place where time didn’t move, and you could escape to another world in your mind with the kind of luxury and relaxation that it offered.
The retreat offered everything from full-day massages, detox rituals, and deep-sleep therapy to private meditation domes, curated wine pairings, therapy sessions, group yoga, holistic bodywork, and so much more.
On the surface, it was peace. Behind the scenes, for those who knew where to look, it was also an entry point to an exclusive sex club called Vault Velour.
It was a discreet, membership only world where desire was luxury too.
Kairo paid my monthly membership to the spa without argument. Maybe because he knew how much time I spent there when he was working late. Maybe because he knew that after Kennedi stopped needing me for everything, I needed somewhere that did.
It became my escape. The place I went to remind myself that I was still a woman, even if I didn’t always feel like one at home.
I laughed lightly, resting my napkin in my lap. “Probably next weekend. They just renovated and added a new aromatherapy suite.”
Gia’s brows lifted. “Well shit, I might have to get a membership.”
Tatum laughed. “That place is wild. I heard they’ve got like… full-on suites with private chefs or some mess.”
Kairo cleared his throat beside me and sipped his drink, ready for a change in subject. I reached for mine without looking at him. “They do,” I said, calm and unbothered. “And it’s worth every dime.”
Gia looked at me playfully. “You must enjoy everything about it.”
I smiled. “I do. It’s become my home away from home. Keeps me sane.”
For all the nights I’d spent alone in our house, the cost of that membership was the least Kairo could do.
Before Gia could finish pouring the last of the wine into her glass, Kairo stood from the table.
“I’m gonna grab another bottle,” he said quickly, already moving toward the kitchen.
The shift was too fast and calculated. He wasn’t worried about that damn wine. He just didn’t want the spa conversation to drift any closer to something else.The moment he saw an opening to change the subject, he took it.
Tatum stood too. “I’ll go with you, bro.”
Of course he would. Once they were gone, Gia looked at me for a long second before speaking. “Why you look so uptight?”
I almost answered honestly. I almost said, Because I feel invisible half the time.
Because I want something more than the routine we’ve built.
Because I was laying in bed, ready to be wanted, and instead I’m here, listening to your unboxing monologue about a bag that cost more than someone’s yearly income.
But I knew better.
Gia’s brain didn’t stretch far past income, shopping, and expensive dinner reservations. If I told her what I was really feeling, she’d dismiss it before I could finish my sentence. So I said what women say when they’re trained to keep things light.
“Nothing. I’m just tired.”
Gia laughed like she couldn’t believe I would let myself do such a thing. “Tired? Girl, you better learn to sit down somewhere!”
I smiled, because I didn’t understand why I even dealt with her.
She leaned forward like she was about to give me the best advice. “The best thing Tatum and I ever did was get a nanny for each kid. Period. Sure, he works a lot. But when he’s home, we get to relax. We’re not worried about who needs what. And the kids love ’em.”
I nodded, remembering the years I did have a nanny.
Back when I was in law school, trying to keep Kennedi from either of our parents’ care and my grades afloat.
My nanny back then was a godsend and the only reason I graduated, if I’m honest. She made sure Kennedi was taken care of during that entire process.
But when I passed, when the diplomas got framed and the classes were over, I realized just how much time I’d missed.
So I made a promise to myself: If I couldn’t get those years back, I’d damn sure show up for the rest of them.
I gave Kennedi everything I had—rides to school, dance recitals, late-night talks, field trip chaperoning. I wanted to be present and overly available.
Gia kept talking. “Girl, you better enjoy this life. Most women wish their man had Kairo’s money. You walk around sad when you should be smiling every day.”
I looked at her and in that moment, I realized we were having two entirely different conversations.
“Money isn’t everything,” I said quietly.
Gia’s eyes went wide like I’d just confessed a crime. “It’s not about it being everything, Khloe. But it’s a whole lot. And you need to be more grateful for the life Kairo created. That man worships you.”
I just rolled my eyes because I didn’t want to hear that shit. Yes, he took care of everything. Everything… except time. The one thing I wanted most.
He did everything except show up. Everything except choosing me when it wasn’t convenient. I looked at the hallway where I heard his voice and Tatum’s laughter moving closer.
The door finally clicked shut behind Tatum and Gia, and I let out a breath I’d been holding since dessert.
Kairo walked past me into the kitchen, grabbing the plates off the counter without saying a word. I followed, collecting glasses and wine bottles, stacking them carefully so I wouldn’t break something.
We moved around each other in silence before he gave me a look.
I knew that look. The one where he knew I had something on my mind but didn’t want to press too soon.
I rinsed the dishes before placing them in the dishwasher while he wiped the counters.
Kairo hated cleaning just as much as he hated that I didn’t want to hire help, so I knew everything he was doing was calculated.
Then I heard him walking behind me humming. He started singing My Cherie Amour off-key but committed.
I turned around, eyebrows raised.“Seriously?” I asked, trying not to smile.
He stepped closer to me, snapping his fingers in slow rhythm. “I know you love it when I serenade you.”
“I love when you take out the trash and not pay the neighbor’s son to do it,” I teased.
He ignored the jab and kept going, turning the kitchen into a stage. “Lovely as a summer day…”
I rolled my eyes, but the smile was already pushing through. He leaned in closer, singing louder and sounding worse.
“You’re ridiculous.”
“But you’re smiling,” he said, grinning like a boy who knew he’d won.
I shook my head, laughing and wiping my hands on a towel. “You’re impossible.”
He stepped even closer, resting his forehead against mine. “But you love me.”
“Unfortunately.”
He laughed, grabbing my waist and pulling me fully against him. “You mean fortunately,” he corrected, kissing the side of my neck.
I melted, like I always did.
That was the problem. I could never stay mad at the man. Not when he kissed me like I still meant everything. Not when his arms wrapped around me like I was the home that he hated leaving.
We stood there for a moment, not saying anything but letting our bodies do what our mouths hadn’t figured out how to express.
I tilted my head up and kissed him real sloppy. He responded instantly, his grip tightening on my waist and traveling down to my butt as we kissed harder.
He whispered against my lips, “As soon as they left… I meant it. The table is clear.”
I smiled. “Then why am I not stretched out on it?”
One second I was standing on the kitchen floor and the next I was lifted off my feet.
“Kairo!” I squealed, laughing as my legs swung mid-air.
He ignored my protests and carried me toward the dining table like I weighed nothing.
He set me down gently on the table, but his hands stayed on my thighs. He traced his thumb along my jaw, tilting my face up to his again. His eyes were softer.
“I love that you were my best friend before you were my wife,” he whispered.
His hands moved slowly, loosening the straps of the set. He leaned down, mouth brushing near my collarbone as he kissed my skin gently. He kissed my skin until he made it my breast, knowing how sensitive they were. As soon as I felt his warm tongue touch my areola, I was creaming from satisfaction.
“I want you to fuck me, Kairo.” I swallowed hard, praying that he didn’t kill the moment by saying something I didn’t want to hear.
“Can I make love to you first?” he asked, opening my legs.
I just rolled my eyes because I gave specific instructions on what I wanted.
I appreciated that my husband loves deep sensual sex, but sometimes, I wanted a quickie that lasted less than five minutes with hair pulling and rough talking.
I pulled down his pants because I knew if I didn’t, he’d spend the next thirty minutes on foreplay alone and I wanted to feel my walls constricting against his manhood more than anything.
“Come here,” I said, leaning back on the table for him to come climb on top of me.
As expensive and heavy duty as it was, I wasn’t worried about it breaking.
He inserted himself inside of me, and I just know I either saw Jupiter or Mars.
He felt so fucking good and as he motioned himself in and out I was already shaking from pleasure.
The way he looked into my eyes made me feel so special.
Like finally, I was the only thing swirling in his mind.
“Kairo,” I whispered.
His lips were against my shoulder. “Yeah?”
“I miss this,” I said softly. “Not just the sex. This.”
“Cum for me, baby,” he whispered in my ear, trying to change the subject.
“I miss when we couldn’t keep our hands off each other,” I said, trying to talk through a moan. “When you looked at me like I was everything.”
He pulled back just enough to look me in the eye. There was guilt and confusion on his face.
“You still are everything,” he said. “Where is this coming from? I show you that you’re my everything by making sure you have everything.”
I swallowed, trying to focus on my pending orgasm and not the tears trying to form in my eyes. “I never needed everything, Kairo. I just needed you.”
He whispered things between our combined moans. Sweet things and soft apologies mixed with promises to do more for just us two.
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
My phone lit up from the chair beside the table, vibrating nonstop.
“Don’t even think about it,” Kairo said against my neck while penetrating me harder.
“It’s probably Kennedi,” I said, biting my lip, trying not to break the mood.
“She’s fine,” he said quickly. “She’s at school. Ignore it.”
But the buzzing didn’t stop.
“I don’t know…” I tried to keep my voice low, but that mom guilt pulled at me. “She never calls more than once unless—”
“Khloe,” he warned, moving faster, trying to distract me, trying to pull me back into the moment.
But I pushed at his chest. “Kairo, wait.”
He groaned in frustration as I reached for the phone.
Kennedi (3 missed calls)
I sat up and called back. “Kennedi? What’s wrong?”
Her voice came through the phone, rushed, shaky. “Can you come get me?”
“What? Why? Are you okay?”
“I just… I don’t wanna talk about it right now. Can you please just come?”
“Yeah. I’ll be right there.”
She hung up before saying bye or okay.
I lowered the phone, exhaled, and looked back at Kairo. He was still hard inside of me, rubbing his hand over his face.
“She’s fine,” he said, annoyed. “She's probably mad about something that didn’t go her way and wants to leave, that’s all.”
“I know,” I whispered, tightening my walls against him “But focus on me and how this feels right now.”
He didn’t say anything else until a moan escaped my mouth and he was back into it like we never paused. We released simultaneously with our tongues still tied together. Once I backed away and broke the moment, he just shook his head.
I knew what he was thinking—that I was doing too much. That I was spoiling her and how she needed to learn how to deal with small things on her own.
But what he didn’t understand was that I couldn’t always tell what was small.
Postpartum depression changes your entire view on mental health.
I didn’t know if today was a broken nail or a broken heart.
If she was being dramatic, or if she was two minutes away from crumbling and too scared to say it out loud.
So I went to her rescue. Every time. No questions.
“Let me get dressed and head to her school,” I said, reaching for my clothes.
Kairo stood behind me. I could tell he was frustrated, and by his hardness, he wasn’t ready to end what I’d started. “I stayed home to give you hours of everything you say I don’t give.”
“I know,” I said, pulling my hair back. “But I need to handle this quick thing first.”
He stepped closer, hands at my waist, leaning in with one last kiss to my neck.
“I wasn’t done with you.”
I smiled. “I know, and I’m not either.”
“But you’re leaving.”
“Just for a little while. Have this same energy when I get back.”
He nodded once, like he wanted to be understanding but couldn’t hide the fact that he was pissed.
I kissed his cheek, grabbed my purse and keys, and left without saying anything else.