Chapter 5
FIVE
Me and my sisters have been doing FNF for almost eight years, and in those eight years, I’ve ended up in my claimed guest room at Giselle’s house by the end of the night at least ninety percent of the time.
None of us drive if we’ve had too much to drink, that’s just understood, even me and I only live about fifteen minutes from her.
I’ve never drunk-called anyone to come pick me up and take me home.
Until last night.
Until him.
After my devastating news and much needed night with my girls, thoughts of him obviously invaded my mind.
I just heard my voicemail and read the three texts I’d sent.
And according to his call log, we talked twice.
He was heavy on my mind, and as I watch him whisk the final part of our breakfast, I don’t regret my thoughts and actions at all.
I just don’t know how to tell him about my ex and sister.
The mere thought of it has me cringing inside.
That day was the most humiliating, disgusting, and heartbreaking day of my life, and honestly, I’m embarrassed that it happened to me.
I had no idea what was happening under my nose.
As smart as I am, I didn’t know my sister was fucking my husband.
I was a fool and I don’t want him to know how foolish I actually was.
“Scrambled hard or soft,” he asks over his shoulder.
“Soft, please,” I answer.
“Bet. I’ll pull yours out first.”
“What can I do? I feel bad just sitting here sipping my tea and enjoying the view,” I say sarcastically.
He’s almost finished and there’s nothing left for me to do anyway.
The bagels are toasted and buttered. The sausage has been cooked, sliced, and placed on our respective plates.
And all of the condiments are on the island.
“You can sit right there and let me feed you.” He pours the whisked eggs into the cast iron skillet and it sizzles.
A few minutes later, he turns the burner off then spoons eggs onto both plates.
Then he joins me. Like every time we eat together, he grabs my hand then bows his head.
I do the same as we say our silent prayers. “Amen,” he says.
He watches as I take my first bite, and when I smile at the taste of the perfectly seasoned, fluffy eggs, he nods then digs into his plate. For a moment, we just enjoy our delicious food and I’m grateful. It buys me more time to gather and form the words of my past heartbreak.
Mireya is right. He deserves to know and it’s time I tell him.
Since our first night together, I haven’t given my goodies to any other man.
He’s the only one who has access to me and my home.
No other man has slept in my bed or spent the night.
It’s a privilege to be invited into my sanctuary and I haven’t deemed a man worthy besides him.
I’ve kept this from him for too long. I just pray he doesn’t look at me differently.
That would sting and cause my hurt to resurface.
When he finishes his food, I stand and grab both of our plates. “I’m cleaning up, so don’t bother trying to stop me. Everything was delicious and you’ve done more than enough. Thank you,” I say, truly meaning my words.
After scraping the remnants of food from our plates into the trash, I place them in the sink and start the dish water. I put all the condiments back in the fridge and pantry. Then I wipe down the stove and counter. Once I’m at the sink and my back is to him, I find the courage to begin.
“What I’m about to say is hard for me,” I admit, then exhale.
“Please, let me get through it before you say anything. I told you I was divorced but never explained what happened because he hurt me. Well, him and my sister. I never told you that I have a sister because we don’t talk.
We don’t have a relationship at all because she is married to my ex-husband.
He cheated on me with my own fucking sister and I actually caught them in the act.
“That shit really hurt me. It broke me, actually. My sister, my big sister, was fucking my husband behind my back for almost five months; it started one month into my marriage. Out of all the men in the world, she had to pick the man I married. She was my fucking maid of honor too, the one person I thought would never hurt me, never. But she did, in the worst way possible.” I sigh loudly then shake my head at the memory.
“Well, yesterday, I found out that she’s pregnant, having his baby.
Even though I haven’t said a word to my sister in over five years, my mom, in her selfish desire to have her daughters talk, thought it was a good idea to share the news with me.
I could have gone the rest of my life not knowing that shit.
“The news put me right back to the day I found her fucking him and I overdid it drinking. I hate it. I really hate that I let them take me out of character, because I mean this with everything in me, I don’t want him.
Not at all, and honestly, I don’t know why I even wanted him then.
It’s just the betrayal, I guess, him and her, but mostly her. She was my fucking blood.”
To my surprise, I didn’t cry reliving it this time.
Sadness and anger definitely penetrate my soul and emotions but not one tear falls.
I exhale because it’s over; I told him and am now waiting for his reaction.
Thankfully, I don’t have to wait long. His large comforting body crowds me from behind.
Then his strong arms encase me and he plants the most tender kiss on the side of my neck.
“Where this nigga rest his head?” he asks sternly.
“Shiro. That’s not important.” I dry my hands then lay them over his.
“It’s important to me. He did some foul, fucked up shit and hurt the woman I love.”
The woman he what?
Loves?
Really?
“You love me?” I ask timidly, almost afraid that I didn’t hear him correctly.
Before answering, he turns me to face him then raises my head so our eyes are locked. “Kyrah, don’t I show you I love you? Don’t you feel that shit? Hell yeah, I love you. Which means I’ll do anything, including hurting anybody who fucks with you,” he says and his words cause my eyes to tear up.
He loves me, and God, I love him too. How can I not and why can’t I just say it?
“You show me and I feel it. I just can’t have my heart broken like that again.”
“I’m not that nigga or any other nigga you’ve fucked with. I’m me and I always protect and love mine and you are mine, baby. My lady and my fucking heart. Let me show you how a man really loves a woman,” he says and the sincerity in his words warms me all over in a way I’ve never felt before.
“I care so much about you, Shiro. I really do, which is why I’m not letting you do anything to him. I don’t want to lose you, especially over a man from my past who doesn’t mean shit to me.”
“I know you love me,” he says, totally disregarding my words. With a smile before cupping my ass, he pulls me in closer then slowly kisses me. “But I’m going to find ol’ boy with or without your help.”
“Shiro, promise me you won’t,” I plead.
“I’m not making a promise I can’t keep. That’s not the kind of man you fell in love with,” he says firmly.
My arms latch around his neck and I raise on the balls of my feet then kiss his soft beard. I inch up to his lips then softly peck them.
“For me, please try. Please,” I exaggerate before kissing him passionately this time. When I feel him grip my ass and lift me, I know I’m wearing him down. After wrapping my legs around his waist, I ask, “Is that a yes?”
“I’ll try, baby,” he utters before recapturing my lips.
Without breaking our kiss, he carries me out of the kitchen and into the living room. This man handles and carries my size eighteen body like I’m light as a fucking feather and I love that for me, so much.
“Are we about to watch TV?” I ask jokingly when he eases down on the chaise end of my leather sectional. My legs straddle him and I cross my arms behind his neck.
“Nah, no TV.”
“Then, what? We’re talking about us and what it means now that we’re out of the friend zone.”
“I’ve been out of that shit. You were just pretending to still be in it,” he says and I grin.
“Is that right?” I ask.
“Yes. Right as hell and you know it.” His hands slide into my shorts and he pulls me closer. “There’s nothing to talk about. I’m yours and you’re mine.”
“So, that simple? No deep conversations about our likes and dislikes. No lists of hard nos and th—” I begin, teasing him more, but he shuts me up by sliding his tongue across my bottom lip.
When he slides it into my mouth, the remainder of my words get lost on his tongue and truly shut me the hell up.
“Mm,” is the only thing I manage to utter.
He turns me over on the chaise, pushes my camisole up, then moves his mouth to my nipples, appreciating both with his lips and tongue. Big hands, full sexy lips, and an intentional tongue are a lethal combination and Shiro is certainly dangerous.
When my nipples are pebbled and my entire body heats, he continues his tongue tour of my already stimulated body.
He stops at one of his favorite spots, my belly button, and dips his tongue inside.
Never in my life would I imagine that something I hated as a child would turn into an erogenous zone, but he did that, he does that.
Every part of my body squirms when he licks in and around my belly button.
“Mm. You know that’s my spot,” I trill and he chuckles, his warm breath tickling the already sensitive area. “Shi…ro.”
“You know I love when you say a nigga’s name.”
“Make me say it again,” I say and he looks up and smirks.
His tongue dips into my belly button again then he places his hands on my inner thighs.
After sliding his hands to the sides of my pussy, he spreads my legs and places my right one over the arm of the chaise.
My breath hitches and I damn near cry when he drops his tongue into my opening. “Shit,” I trill.
“Nah, not shit. What’s my name, baby?”