Page 42 of Betrothed To Love

“Depends,” she begins, but stops when two cigar sommeliers approach with our drinks, cigars, and the black and marble tray filled with the accessories to cut, light, and smoke our cigars. “Thank you,” she says to them.

“Of course. Let us know if you need anything else, Miss Stansfield,” the taller one says before they walk off.

Alex preps both cigars then lights the first one with the tabletop lighter. Using her personal gold cigar holder, she passes the lit one to me and I accept. Then she lights hers. I take the first pull of mine and wow!

“Now, I like this one,” I admit. “It’s so smooth and I don’t know how but it is creamy. Yeah, this one is my new favorite,” I admit before pulling again.

“A special blend for the special occasion. Listen, we are grown ass women and we can do whatever we want, we’ve earned that. The whole husband and kids thing isn’t something I’ve ever desired but that’s me. You, on the other hand, want all of that and look what happened. You mixed bourbon with liquid THC and got all of that in the blink of an eye. And on top of that, he fits you and your lifestyle. He’s a successful attorney. He owns his own home. He’s good looking. According to you, he comes from a good family and is a good father, and hell, he makes you smile. So, no. Staying married to that man wouldn’t be crazy,” she says before taking a sip from her drink.

I lift my glass too and down almost half of my drink. Alex’s words are filled with so much truth I feel like she’s reading my damn mind. Those very thoughts have briefly trespassed my mind a few times, but each time, I expeditiously evicted them on the strength that my thoughts were irrational. But hearing her words changes things. It validates me and my thoughts.

“I asked why he’s going along with the marriage and he said for me. He wants to get to know me and hopefully make me fall for him. I laughed him off initially, but he’s so intentional, I’m starting to believe him.”

“Oh, I love an intentional man,” she says while slowly shaking her head. “I can already tell I’m going to like this Quintus and I think you like him too.”

“I do. What the hell? I like my husband,” I say, then smile.

“I know that’s right!” she exclaims, then laughs. She takes another sip of her drink then her eyes narrow at me. “But tell me, how’s the dick?”

After an overdramatic sigh, I admit, “I don’t know.”

“What! Why? The first thing you do after a wedding is consummate that shit. What’s the hold up?” she asks, clearly flabbergasted.

“We just met. I didn’t want to complicate things. And did I mention, we just met,” I stress.

“Girl, pleeeease. That’s your damn husband and when was the last time you got that itch scratched anyway?”

“We’re too damn close,” I utter, then playfully roll my eyes. “Four months, seventeen days, six hours…”—I look down at my cell on the table—“And thirty-eight minutes.”

“Bitch,” she says while laughing. “If you have that shit down to the nanoseconds, you are long overdue. Jump that fine ass man and reset that sad clock.”

“Not sad clock,” I say while laughing. “Alex, that’s cold.”

“No, that coochie is what’s cold. Heat her up,” she says and we both laugh.

Her words don’t leave my mind though. In fact, they stay with me for the remainder of our time at Elegance & Ash, during my ride home, and especially when I get my nightly call from him. When his smooth baritone floats through my phone, I swear I feel it strum against my damn clit. Tomorrow’s night in is going to be fun.

“Do you want the family to wear a specific color? If so, I’m gonna need time to make sure I have the perfect dress,” Shuga says.

“No, no special color. Semi-formal is the only requirement,” I tell her as I examine myself in front of my full-length mirror in my walk in.

This is my third outfit choice this evening. Quintus should be here in an hour and I still can’t decide on the perfect fit that gives comfortable and cute but sexy and fuckable. Tonight, after we eat and discuss the meeting with my friends Friday, next week’s dinner, and our living situation, I’m going to climb on my husband and let him warm me up.

“Well, what are you and Quintus wearing? Niya has to at least match you two,” she says.

I hadn’t even thought about that. One more thing to add to the discussion list.

“I’ll ask when he gets here,” I tell her. She has Niya, so she’s well aware of our dinner plans.

“I’ll take Niya to school tomorrow, so y’all take all the time you need. I know it has to be hard as newlyweds living apart. When is that going to change?” she asks. I’m learning very quickly that Shuga says and asks whatever is on her mind, no exceptions. In every conversation or text we’ve had about our dinner at the winery over the past few days, she finds a way to ask about our living situation. “I hope it’s soon because a marriage can’t withstand too much distance,” she adds.

“We’re working on it,” I assure her and mean it. Even Duke mentioned it again today. Quintus and I will have a conversation; I just don’t know what the conversation is going to look like.

“Good, and remember, I’ll make sure Niya gets to school in the morning. Quintus doesn’t have to rush back here.”

“I’ll let him know.”

“I already did, sweetheart,” she says and I swear I hear her laugh before she ends the call. Shuga is a trip.