Chapter 31
By Thursday afternoon, I was starting to think my wife was avoiding me.
It wasn’t dramatic, not like she was slamming doors, cussing me out, or giving me the cold shoulder.
Nah, this was quieter than that, almost sneaky.
Every morning, she kissed me and urged me to go do some kind of work with Real, Juvie, and Mikhail.
“Y’all could go help Ajani and Braeden do something of questionable legality,” she actually told me earlier.
Every night, she came to bed and curled into me like our new normal.
But during the day? She kept disappearing with the women in her family.
And my favorable opinion of those ladies was in danger of shifting.
Every time I tried to pin Theory down for a few hours alone…
or any other kinda shit a husband might try to pin his wife down for, somebody needed her.
She’d tell me to give her “just one minute” because Everly wanted her to go downtown or Emory needed her to watch the baby or Hyacinth swore they had bachelorette party matters to attend to.
All of that would immediately be followed by Theory giving me a cute little wave and traipsing off.
Something was up. I expressed as much to the niggas around me. Exactly when I had become an in-my-chest type nigga, I didn’t know, but here I was, spilling my heart like I was in a nineties R if she was truly upset with you, you’d know. Every one of them would make it clear. They’re like little freckle-faced menaces when they’re mad.”
“Maybe she fucking sick of me and all the shit that comes with me.”
The truck was quiet for a minute. Then Juvie broke out laughing so hard he started coughing. “Tired of you?” he wheezed when he was finally out of danger of choking. “Nigga! That girl look at you like you invented sex.”
“Julien,” Mikhail sighed.
“What? She do!”
Real rubbed a hand across his beard, trying not to smile. “You survive a kidnapping, torture, Siberia, and Maxim’s lifeless ass but start panicking because your wife spends a few hours without you?”
“A few hours?” I repeated. “It’s been three days.”
“Three days where she still sleep wrapped around you every night, I’m sure,” he pointed out.
I frowned. That was true. Every night, no matter how late she came upstairs from talking with her family, she slid into my arms after her shower.
Every morning, she touched me first thing, like she wanted to make sure I was still there.
As if there was a chance in hell I would allow either of us to go anywhere.
But still…
“Shorty been acting strange,” I muttered.
Real and Juvie exchanged a look. That made me narrow my eyes. “What?”
“Nothing,” both of them said too fast.
That shit was suspicious. Very suspicious. Before I could press, my phone buzzed in the cupholder. Theory’s name flashed across the screen. Everything in me relaxed instantly. A nigga had it bad. It was pathetic, really, and I had no fucks to give.
“Milaya?”
Her soft laugh slid through the speaker. “You busy?”
“Nah.”
“Good. I need you.”
Every muscle in my body tightened at those words.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” she said quickly. “I just… wanna go somewhere with you tonight.”
I frowned. “You asking me on a date?”
“You kidnap me, drag me to the altar, and I can’t get a lil’ date? Niggas, I swear.”
The humor in her voice was infectious, and just like that, my whole damn mood shifted.
“What time?”
“Come back to the Stone House around six. Get ready. Dress casually,” she instructed.
The line clicked dead before I could question her further.
Juvie twisted around in his seat immediately, nosy ass. “What she say?”
I tried not to grin. Shiii, I failed. Horribly.
“She need me.”
“Look at this nigga cheesing. Pitiful,” Real muttered.
“Shut up. I know yo’ ass ain’t—”
“We ain’t talking about me, though,” he evaded smoothly.
I returned to the Stone House before she did.
By the time I showered and dressed in jeans, a t-shirt, and some Bottega Veneta sneakers, the sun was low and golden through the windows, and the cicadas were warming up for the night to come.
I barely made it downstairs before Theory appeared in front of me.
And damn.
My wife had on this little skirt that showed off all her soft, golden thighs and a top that fit like it loved her as much as I did. Gold hoops brushed her neck and her curls spilled around her shoulders. Gloss made her lips shine in the house’s warm lighting and she was holding a big ass beach bag.
I frowned immediately. “Where you going with luggage?”
She kissed her teeth. “Targen, don’t start. It’s not luggage.”
“Then why it look like you packed for a hostage situation?”
“Mind your business,” she replied sweetly.
Yeah. That sounded more like my wife. I walked over and kissed her slowly, relieved just to feel her melt against me again.
“Where you been?” I murmured against her mouth.
Something that looked like guilt flitted across her face then. Or maybe it was just softness. I was definitely treating my girl with grace.
“I’m right here with you,” she whispered.
That answer soothed something troubled inside me.
Outside, Mikhail handed me the truck keys.
He and Juvie were riding in a separate car.
Real sat laughing on the porch swing like he knew something I didn’t, ol’ suspicious ass nigga.
I opened Theory’s door and she slid into the passenger seat holding tight to that big ass bag that didn’t match a damn thing.
Ten minutes later, she directed me down Pauli Murray Avenue, then had me take a right on Magnolia Lane.
She finally led me into the lot of a small theater.
I glanced over at her. “We watching a movie?”
She batted her eyelashes. I mean, legit batted them before murmuring, “Maybe.”
Honestly, I couldn’t have cared less about the movie. If my wife wanted my attention for two hours in a dusty ass Louisiana theater, she could have it. I just wanted us right again.
“What we seeing?” I asked as I approached the box office.
“I got our tickets, baby. Come on,” she coaxed, holding out her hand.
Of course, I grabbed it.
The cinema was old-school with four screens, “Coming Soon” movie posters near the concession stand, and popcorn that smelled like I might chance slapping Joia Jones after a taste. Theory led me into Theater Two, but when we walked inside, the place was empty.
Completely empty.
I frowned. “I know your town small, but where everybody at?”
Theory bit her lip, suddenly looking shy.
“Targen—”
Before she could explain, Real appeared from the hallway in a red and white striped apron and hat, carrying popcorn. A smiling Everly was on his heels with a big drink.
“Welcome, nigga… and ma’am,” he greeted dryly.
I looked around me slowly, then at Theory.
“You rented out the theater?”
Theory shrugged one shoulder and fluttered those eyelashes again. “Maybe.”
Something warm began a slow spread through my veins.
“Shorty…”
Before I could finish, Real pointed toward the screen. “Movie starting.”
The lights dimmed, then the opening credits rolled. My eyes widened immediately.
“Jason’s Lyric?” I looked at Theory. “Ahh, shit, milaya. How you know this my joint?”