Page 16 of Betrothed To Love

“Happy Saturday,” I return. “We need to talk.”

“That sounded heavy. Should I be sitting or standing?”

“Actually, I think it’s best for you to be here. This has to be in person.”

Urgently, he says, “I’m on my way now.”

Trying to calm him, I speak in a slower tone. “It can wait an hour or two. I just got home and I’m about to shower, get myself together, and drink a much needed latte. Let’s say noon?”

“Noon. Okay. I can do that. Do I need to bring anything?”

“Just your beautiful, strategizing mind. I need it this morning.”

“You’re making me worry, Mireya,” he says with concern.

“Don’t. Not until we talk. See you at noon.”

After I end the call, I place my cell on the stone top of my cream leather nightstand then journey into my walk-in. Once I’ve removed my clothing, I place them in the bamboo hamper then grab one of my comfortable, extra-long, jersey dresses from the hangers for after my bath. I changed my mind; I need a long hot bath in the favorite part of my condo.

There was only one prior owner of my condo before me, an NBA player who stayed here during the season. To accommodate his lifestyle and size, he remodeled the bathroom to resemble a modern Japanese spa. My bathroom has naguri-bori flooring, an amazing, seven-foot hinoki bathtub with a wall-mounted bamboo spout, and shoji doors on the dual head and steam shower. I love my bathroom and I’m obsessed with the tub.

Before entering my bathroom, I get my cell from my nightstand. Inside, I grab one of my favorite goat milk, oatmeal, and honey bath bombs from the basket on my mounted shelf and drop it into the tub before starting the water. As the tub fills, I pull my hair into a high bun. My Dominican blowout is in desperate need of a refresh and Tuesday can’t get here fast enough. Once my face is cleaned, refreshed with toner, and moisturized, I turn off the faucet, slide into the tub, and rest my head against my bath pillow.

This is exactly what I needed.

Every tense muscle in my body seems to relax and my skin soaks up the moisture from the infused water as I simply sink into the experience and close my eyes. I’m still, soaking and relaxing uninterrupted for about ten minutes. My eyes don’t open until my cell rings.

“Damn!” I utter, annoyed.

After opening my eyes and sitting up, I dry my hands and answer my phone before looking at the screen. “Hello?”

“You sound mighty awake,” Kyrah says, sounding the complete opposite of awake.

“All I said was hello. Are you just getting up?”

“Girl, yes. I went looking for you but Giselle said you left before ten.”

“Yes. I got out early. I need to conduct pre-damage control today with Duke. He’s coming over in a few.”

“I just wanted to apologize. I don’t know if I did last night,” she says.

“Apologize for what?”

“The drink,” she says solemnly.

“Kyrah, I’m thirty-two years old, grown grown. I drank that can on my own. You have nothing to apologize for. Please don’t apologize. I don’t blame you for anything. It was all me and him,” I admit.

“Alright, girl, because that shit was bothering me. It’s the first thing that hit me when I opened my eyes. I felt horrible.”

“Don’t.”

“Okay. I won’t, but are you okay with everything?”

“I’m dealing with it. Well, about to deal with it. I don’t know if I can say I’m okay just yet, but I do know myself and I will be just fine.”

“Like your husband,” she whispers.

“Bye, Kyrah.”