Chapter Ten.
“So, you at Danger's house?” Nivéa asked rhetorically, staring at the screen of her blush MacBook.
“Now you know that’s what I texted you. Why you calling me, playing?” Caresha replied, playfully rolling her eyes.
“Ooh, what y’all doing over there?”
“Not nothing.”
“I mean, what y’all doing when he’s there?”
“Bitch, I said nothing.”
Nivéa smacked her lips, not buying the bullshit. “Y’all ain’t just sitting around all night doing nothing.”
Caresha laughed, and Nivéa noticed she was blushing when she finished.
“Girlll, not you finally giving the coochie up. I knew there was a new glow on you as soon as you answered. Oh my God.”
“Bitch, did I say that?”
“You don’t have to. It’s written all over your face, hoe. You lucky my husband got me back on lockdown, or I’d be over there to see you.”
“Whatever.” Caresha shook her head, waving her off.
“Ooh, Danger ran a red light. Danger ran a red light.” Nivéa sang repeatedly, teasing.
Caresha’s eyes widened as she realized Nivéa had put two and two together. She instantly regretted mentioning her cramps the other day. Now, she felt slightly embarrassed.
“Girl, shut the hell up, telling all my business. I need to stop telling you everything.”
“Oh, please. Ain’t nobody here but your fussing-ass goddaughter, and she ain’t worried about us.”
“You better leave my baby alone, heffa.”
“Mmhmm, how was it?” Nivéa wouldn’t let her change the subject. “We grown. I ain’t judging, 'cause Lord knows I’m giving it up to Ahmad no matter what if he wants it.”
“Trust, I know. Freaky ass.”
They shared another laugh. Caresha took her time answering, but her eyes said it all…she was smitten.
“Shit, my girl is hooked.” Nivéa clocked it.
“And is. The sex was so good, Niv. That man is blessed and knows how to take his time with it. I’m talking about toes curling, stomach caving in, drooling, and eyes rolling to the back of your damn head kind of sex.
Whew. And you know what really got me? The aftercare.
My God… he took care of me. This might be too much information, but—”
“Nothing you say is ever too much information. I want all the details, sis.”
“He ran us a bath afterward, took his time cleaning me down there. I mean, he spread my legs open and thoroughly cleaned me. Then he dressed me. I’m talking about putting lotion all over my body and pulling my period panties up and all.
By the time I made it back to his bed, it was made up with new sheets, a new comforter, and my heating pad lying there.
I was trying to figure out when he even had the time to do it.
I’m guessing while I was waiting in the tub for him. ”
“Whew, not my boy got out the heating pad and had that thang waiting for you.”
“Babyyy, got it out my gym bag and had it waiting for me. Do you hear me? He gave me more pain meds, fed me again, and then cuddled my ass to sleep like a baby.”
Nivéa smiled hard as she nodded and tapped her index and thumb together, repeatedly.
“I told you those Knight men ain’t nothing to play with. That Ahmad Sr. must’ve taken damn good care of Kerri 'cause his boys don’t play. That’s so sweet.”
All Caresha could do was smile on the other end of the screen. Normally, she teased Nivéa about being all mushy, but even she had to admit those men were truly special. She hadn’t encountered a nigga like Hassan Knight before. That was evident in the way he had her acting.
“So, what? Are y’all together now? Or are you still wanting to take things slow?”
“I don’t know, girl. That slow shit might be changing soon because Lord hammercy… that’s my man in my head. We go together real bad. Me and him gon’ have to have another talk soon.”
“I know that’s right.” Nivéa cracked up, sticking her tongue out. “Did y’all use protection?”
Caresha's eyes grew wide again. “Girlllll, now why would you ask that?”
Nivéa laughed harder. “That means no. You were talking all that shit about me, and now look at you. Let me find out we finna be knocked up at the same time ’cause you done took your ass over that man’s house being fast.”
“You know what? Bitch bye. I’m hanging up on you.” Caresha was over the conversation at the mention of being knocked up.
Nivéa gasped in disbelief as she stared at the screen.
She couldn’t believe her girl had actually ended the call.
Not taking it to heart, she picked up her phone and sent Caresha two emojis.
One was a light-skinned, pregnant black woman, and the other was dark-skinned.
She then set the phone down, snickering to herself.
Afterwards, Nivéa looked around the room, sighed, and got right back to work.
It was the story of her life. She couldn’t explain how she had managed to work on a large conference order while caring for a fussy four-month-old, but somehow, she was doing it.
She didn’t know whether it was the superwoman strength motherhood had unlocked in her or the fact that she had spent so much time watching her husband juggle several parts of his life effortlessly. Crown inspired her.
The office Crown had set up for Nivéa inside their home had become her temporary boutique once again.
Since he had prohibited her from going into the shop while the war was going on, she had been forced to bring as much of the operation home as possible.
Not only did she have the order for the women’s conference to fill, but another customer had reached out via email requesting custom T-shirts for a baby shower.
The woman seemed picky and hesitant, questioning everything from the material to how well the lettering and design would look.
They agreed that Nivéa would create a sample so she could evaluate the quality for herself.
Having dealt with her picky husband as a customer before, Nivéa was accustomed to this type of scrutiny—and perhaps it was because she was picky herself that made her so understanding.
Regardless, she poured her heart into everything she touched.
She planned to send the sample first thing in the morning.
Between that, her pregnancy, and Nyla, she felt stretched thin that day.
At her side was Nyla, seated inside the bouncer, carrying on like she had all morning.
She had been fed, burped, changed, rocked, and walked around the room, yet she still refused to settle.
Nivéa released a slow breath as she forced herself to concentrate over the sharp little sounds.
Eventually, Nyla let out another irritated whine.
She kicked her feet hard enough to make the toys hanging above her sway, as if her mother had personally done something to upset her.
“I know, baby girl. You been telling me about myself all day.”
A tired smirk touched Nivéa’s lips as she typed up an email. Her lower back ached, and her feet throbbed. Still, knowing her business was booming filled her with pride. This was the busiest she had ever been since opening the boutique.
Speaking of the man who had taught her how to keep moving under pressure, Nivéa heard Crown’s truck pulling into the driveway.
Soon, his heavy footsteps echoed up the stairs.
When he appeared in the doorway, she stared, taking him in.
He had left the house that morning in his vest, jeans, and boots, yet there he stood wearing tailored black slacks and a crisp button-up shirt with the sleeves folded neatly at his forearms. His helmet, once in his arms, was now replaced by a hard hat.
His briefcase hung from one hand while a large bouquet of roses filled the other.
Nivéa couldn’t understand it. She couldn’t fathom being in his shoes.
How the fuck did he leave home that morning as an outlaw headed into a war, only to return hours later dressed as if he had just stepped out of a business conference?
There wasn’t a wave out of place on his head, his beard was sharp, and his shirt was creased to perfection.
The only sign that his day had taken anything out of him was the faint heaviness beneath his eyes and the way his shoulders relaxed the moment he saw her.
“Sup, baby?” He spoke.
“Hey, hubby. You home early today.” Nivéa replied with a smile.
“Yeah, needed to be with y’all…make up for coming home so late the other night.”
“Well, I’m happy to hear that and excited to see you.”
Nodding, Crown’s gaze shifted to the packed boxes. “Damn,” he said, stepping inside. “You did all this?”
“Yep, knocked most of it out.” Nivéa replied proudly, leaning back in the chair. “While your stepdaughter here has been acting like I haven’t done one thing right since this morning.”
“Stepdaughter?” Crown’s brows pulled together as if the word had personally offended him. “Nah, cut that shit out, ma.”
He hated the sound of it and wanted Nivéa to nip it in the bud. He had been Nyla’s father from the moment he decided she and Nivéa belonged with him, and blood had never made him feel any less connected to her. As if she understood and agreed with him, Nyla released another sharp cry.
“Well…daughter. Look at her.” Nivéa quickly corrected herself.
Crown chuckled under his breath and set the briefcase on the desk.
“A’ight. Come on, baby girl. Mama done pissed you off, too, with that nonsense.”
“Uh uh. Not yet.” Nivéa leaned between them and gently slipped the pacifier into Nyla’s mouth. Once the crying softened to a few angry grunts, she straightened and pointed at the roses.
“You came in here holding something that looks like it belongs to me.”
Nodding with a smirk, Crown stepped closer and offered her the bouquet.
The sound of Nyla’s cries had distracted him from his mission that quickly.
He had picked up the flowers because he wanted to make up for how distraught he had come home the other night.
He also wanted her to know he was sorry for cutting their getaway short, even if neither of them had said much about it since returning.