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Making sure my breast is covered enough, I turn.
“I know. I’m just happy Princeton wasn’t with me.” Before I fully situate into my new stance, Kings is on me, bringing his big frame to mine and blocking me from Trey.
“Babe! Your tit!” Kingston hollers. Shay chuckles, as do Trey and me.
“Oh no! Boobies!” I tease, and his nose flares and his face grows red before he looks down at our son.
“Calm down. Trey has seen enough boobs and breast-feeding,” Shayla chimes in.
“So, these are my tits. I don’t want him looking.” He almost pouts, and it’s actually adorable. I’m beyond spoiled and turned on by all the attention he’s giving me today.
“Dude, she’s like my sister. I ain’t gawking. Fucking chill, Neanderthal. You’ve seen Shay’s tits and I don’t freak out.”
Kings looks over his shoulder and shoots him a snarky glare. “Because she’s my saint of a sister. It’s different. I used to change her diapers.”
We all bust up laughing, all of us but Kingston. I’m careful to not separate Prince and me as I save Kings from all this torture, to reel him back in when Shay and Trey busy themselves with the twins.
“Hey,” I whisper, bringing my free hand to his hot chest. He looks down at me with a scowl and I smirk at his possessive ways. “Look at him eat. Isn’t it beautiful?”
His facial expression softens. “It is. What a day, too. It’s like he knew you needed it,” he expresses, running his hand over the baby’s head of hair. In the past few months, his hair has grown long and wild like his daddy’s.
“I did. This right here”—I gesture to the moment and the three of us presently in it—“is what I live for. This is why I want to get better.”
“Me too. We have to, for him.” He drops his head and kisses Prince’s forehead before leaning in and watching, mesmerized as I feed him. As our son nurses, his little eyes close and small fist balls as he dozes off to sleep. This is all for my family. Every single choice I make from here on out is for my son and Kingston.
The evening goes on, and being surrounded by my family washes away the accident and anything else that could ruin this day.
Kingston has been home for two amazing weeks, and we have had the best time rekindling our romance. We have gone to therapy both weeks and talked more about the abuse. In our session yesterday, we talked about the dreadful final night, and Kingston had just as much to say about it as I did.
Turns out he was still struggling with the events of that night too, holding it in all these years in hopes I wouldn’t relive it. I’ve said it before, but I see more and more each day how much my past has not only affected me, but the others in my life as well. The therapist spent quite some time on Kings yesterday, and I don’t think I have ever seen him that vulnerable.
My heart opened up for him when he told his side of the story, and I swear I’ve been attached to his hip, just as much as he has been to mine. We have been inseparable, and the sex—the lovemaking—my God, it’s constant. And I love it. We’ve been making love any second we can, before Prince wakes up, on Kingston’s lunch break, when Prince goes to sleep, again in the shower. The other day, we made love on the hood of his car in the garage. Finding that hunger again, after so long without it, has been amazing. I feel in sync with Kingston. My heart is beating the same rhythm as his, and even when he is at work, I can feel him thinking of me right when I’m thinking of him.
Prince is down for his afternoon nap, and Kingston has left for the gym. Today being his one day off this week, he wanted to get some time in.
No complaints on my end. I love my muscle man.
My phone chimes a notification a few times and I rush to answer it, except when I do, I realize it’s not my phone. Kingston left his phone on the coffee table and it’s going off like crazy. Lifting it up, I see a Facebook Messenger notification. Curious to why there is so many in a row, I subconsciously open it, not thinking much of it.
Wishing I had thought it through, I do all but drop the phone. Seeing Hilary’s name on the screen has my blood boiling and my heart rate jacking to a hundred. He’s been talking to his ex—to the woman Joel cheated on me with. How could he do this?
I try to psych myself out and think maybe it’s innocent, but the more I scroll up, the sicker I become. The worst of it hits me like a brick when her nude picture fills the screen. Looking at the date, I think back instantly to that night, when I caught him pleasuring himself to something on his phone.
Oh my God.
I don’t think I’m going to be sick; I know I am. Putting his phone down, I bring my hands up behind my head and take deep breaths, trying to regain some air to my brain. I can’t believe he did this to me. I don’t care if he told her he wasn’t interested. That was after he entertained it for long enough.
So much for feeling connected. I feel betrayed. She was vile to me in high school, and then she slept with Joel just to spite Kingston and hurt me more in the process.
How could he do this to me?
I pace the living room, counting to three repeatedly, but I can’t seem to calm down. I’m hurt and beyond pissed. When Princeton’s cries carry through the upstairs hall and down the stairs, I set into motion, the entire time growing more agitated with each step. I hold Prince and hush him as I descend the stairs. Making his bottle, I almost don’t know how I do it, because I can’t remember anything other then that graphic picture.
“Baby, I’m back.”
His voice peeves me, making my skin crawl, and the second he comes into view, I break, shaking my head rapidly back and forth and letting the tears fall. I keep rocking our son as Kingston reaches me in a rush, dropping his gym bag at the garage door.
“Lana, are you okay?” He checks me over and I lose my restraint.
