Chapter Fifty-Two
Sin
Heaven
The view of the Potomac River from our bedroom is like an emerald-tinted dream. The hills seem to go on forever and the sky and the earth meet in the most glorious kiss with the sun trying it's best to come between them only to add to the glory of it all.
The Palms is the most beautiful place I’ve ever had the pleasure of waking up in. The house itself is grand, immaculate and staffed so that not a speck of dust has the chance to land on the gleaming mahogany floors.
Every meal is served on dishes edged in gold and red and green and black.
There are cooks, a butler, an army of cleaners, and groundskeepers.
I glance to my right at Kwame and smile at the way he’s positioned himself so he’s bathed in the rays of mid-morning sun that spills into our room.
His chin is propped up on his bent wrist, and I’m mesmerized by the swell of his bicep and how soft that skin feels when I touch him.
How is this my life?
I never imagined I’d have so much. I didn’t even know so much existed.
I didn’t even know a life so beautiful existed.
I’ve always felt that Kwame and I align on the belief that hoarding more money than you can spend in three lifetimes isn’t something to be proud of.
After the last few days, I’m not sure that, in my case, it’s less of a value and more the acceptance of my reality.
I’m not sure I could walk away from all of this.
It’s not just the money. Although, I can’t pretend not to understand its appeal now that I’ve seen how the other half lives.
It’s about convenience, choice, safety, freedom, and comfort.
Things all humans are wired to crave. Sadly, most of us will never experience all five.
Much less at the very same time.
It’s instantly addictive.
I’ll go into withdrawal the first time I have to think about whether or not I have enough eggs to make the breakfast I’m craving.
The first time I miss one of my walks because it’s raining and I don’t have a treadmill—or space for one—I’ll probably cry.
I’ll never forget our time here. Being on the grounds, even without access to the entire property, while researching its history has been a magical experience.
I’ve gone to bed exhausted in the most delicious ways. Full of good food, and Kwame’s thick dick.
I let out a sigh of satisfaction and stretch my arms, fingertips straining for the ceiling. “Do you believe in heaven?” I ask Kwame. It’s the first time I’ve spoken today, and my voice is rough with sleep.
I love that he doesn’t mind that I like to wake up and not talk until I’m ready. It’s one of the luxuries I discovered from living alone. The ability to have quiet whenever I need it.
I also love that he doesn’t mind if we skip good morning and get straight into whatever is on our minds.
“Is that a rhetorical question?” He doesn’t look up from the tome on Byzantium history he’s been reading all morning.
He brings one of his long fingers to his mouth, licks the tip of it and turns the page leisurely.
“No.” I turn onto my side, propping my chin “I’m asking because I want to know what you think.”
“About heaven?” He closes his book and places it on the table next to his side of the bed and stretches his muscular arms and turns his face toward the sun.
“Yes. Or have you never heard of it?”
“Ha! You’re the sinner in this duet, baby. Literally and figuratively.” He grins and dodges the swipe of my pillow.
“Are you going to answer the question or just make fun of me?” I prod his calf with my foot.
He rolls his eyes upward as he ponders my question. “I hope there’s a heaven. For the sake of everyone who believes in it.”
“But not you?”
“It feels hypocritical when I absolutely don't believe in hell. What about you?”
“I believe in heaven. But I live like this world might be all there is and try to make it as close to what feels like heaven to me.”
“And what’s that?”
“Waking up knowing what my purpose is. To not owe anyone anything. To be proud of my work. To have the security of a roof over my head, fair pay for the work I do, people I can close both eyes around.”
“Sounds like you’ve got heaven.”
“It’s felt like that all week. There’s something so tranquil about this place.”
“I think you could make anywhere feel like that.” He sighs and gazes out of the window that lines the wall our bed is facing. “It is so beautiful to look at though,” he says with a wistful twist to his mouth.
I scoot close to him and drape an arm over his waist and lay my head on his shoulder. “It is. You have a stretch of the Potomac riverfront all to yourselves.”
He nods. “I was obsessed with this river when I was growing up. It’s the oldest thing in this landscape.
Ancient. It’s a different river depending when you encounter it.
But here, after it goes over the great falls, it shallows out.
And you see that stone island?” He points out into the distance, and I sit up straight and follow his finger to a pile of rocks that splits the current.
“That’s the primordial bedrock that was here before the first humans arrived here a thousand years ago.”
“Wow, is it that old?”
“Older. But also brand new. The riverbed is constantly eroded by water that has never stopped running. It’s never the same river twice. And every time I stepped into it, I was a different person, too.”
I nod in agreement. “Yes, every day is an opportunity to do something different.”
“Spoken like a true romantic and optimist.”
I search his face. “Are you making fun of me?”
He frowns and the humor melts into affection. “Never. From head to toe, inside out, there’s nothing about you I don’t take seriously. Not one part of you I don’t appreciate. Not a single thing I’d change. Good Sin, Bad Sin, I don’t care. As long as you’re my Sin.”
I’ll never get over the way it feels when he speaks life into me like that. After a lifetime of being critiqued, always thinking about leveling up, never feeling like I’m quite where I want to be, he’s more than watered a desert in my soul, he’s helped new life bloom there.
“Thank you, Kwame. For everything. This has been one of the happiest times of my life.”
“Mine, too.” He kisses me softly and tucks an errant heatless curler back under my bonnet. “And your optimism is one of my favorite things about you, for the record.”
“I’m not an optimist by choice. It's the only way I have been able to keep moving forward.”
“That’s something my father says, too. But his optimism is motivated by vengeance. Besting his doubters and enemies is what gets him out of bed in the morning.”
Kwame has barely spoken about his father while we’ve been here, and I’d almost forgotten that he’s the reason I’m here. My stomach dips “I’m so nervous about meeting him. I’m so glad you’ll be there for lunch.”
His brow furrows. “Uh…” he presses his lips together.
“What?”
His phone buzzes on the bedside table, rattling against the glass and stealing his attention. “One second.”
He answers the call. “Morning.” He listens and nods. “Yup, I’ll be there by eleven, but I’ve got all day.”
Just like that, our tranquil love fest comes to a screeching halt. He glances at his watch and groans and sits up.
“Where are you going to be at eleven?”
“I’ve got to get to DC for a meeting. I wasn’t planning on joining you for lunch.”
I shoot up to a sitting position, clutching the sheet over my bare chest. “You’re not joining us?” I ask, incredulous. “What do you mean?”
He sits down. “I didn’t know you expected me to. I thought you were going to be interviewing him during lunch, and I have a meeting with my mentor.”
I toy with my hands in my lap, unsure what to say. “It’s cool. I just…I thought you’d be there.”
He squeezes my thigh. “I’ll be back for dinner. I promise.”
He glances at his watch and groans. “I have to get in the shower.” He pecks my lips, distractedly “Sorry Sin, really.”
I watch him, and all I can think is Me, too.