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“Wife, you look ready to be eaten,” I say, handing off the roses. Her face flushes with gratitude, smelling the top of them.

“In an hour, I will be,” she swears, cheesing. She makes it easy to follow her through the home, if only to be swallowed by her presence.

“So, what’s first?”

“You’re about to see.”

We go through the teakwood-scented hallway, stopping first in the kitchen to drop off the flowers. She collects the money, putting it on the table to come back to. Followed by placing the roses into a water-filled glass to keep them fresh. Our next journey is the bathroom. Morgan keeps words to a minimum until we’re there. At the door, she turns to face me, removing my suit jacket with love in her eyes.

“We have company coming in an hour. But until then, I want us to have a little time alone. First, you get your ass in the shower. Once you’re out, I’ll be waiting in the bedroom to rub your shoulders, light us a blunt, and you’ll tell me about your day. After that, you’ll throw on some clothes. Nothing crazy because you won’t be in them long anyway. Am I clear?”

“You know, I always love when you take control, shorty.” “Answer the question.” Her voice is stern and direct.

“Yes.”

She pulls me by my tie, “Yes, what?”

“Yes, wifey.”

That gets me a fat kiss on the lips, “That’s my Big Daddy. Enjoy your shower.”

When Mama speaks, Big Daddy listens. I have the kind of shower that washes away stress, unneeded conversations, and brings deep thought. The last thing I want to be thinking about during a shower is my knuckleheaded brother. But my conversation with Destiny is super glued to my brain. All I want for my family is to be healthy and successful. If I have to show Rayne tough love to get there, I will. Maybe another conversation could be had though. Maybe.

Once the shower ends, I head into the bedroom clad in a towel with my folded dirty clothes in hand. Water’s dripping from my head down to my shoulders as Morgan approaches. She takes the clothes and sets them to the side. The towel ends up on the floor next, by her hand.

“Lay down, sir,” she demands. “Or what?”

“Don’t fuckin’ play with me.”

She receives a challenging smirk in return before I sprawl onto the bed, legs hanging from the edge of it. I can hear her maneuvering around by the dresser, near the section with the lotions and oils. The spark of a lighter is heard next as she walks back over. She uses the towel to dry any leftover shower water from my skin before straddling my back. Her warmth blends with my skin, tempting me to fall asleep. The sweet smell of that good weed flirts with my nose enough to keep me awake as she starts slowly rubbing my shoulders down.

“So, how was work?”

“Cool. Almost had to body slam Destiny though.”

“And why are we contemplating WrestleMania moves on little sister today?” “She gave that nigga Rayne money. Again.”

Wifey tightens her grip around my neck, squeezing down harder as if she already could sense my body starting to tense. This is exactly what a nigga needs after a long, stressful day.

“She’s his little sister too, baby.”

“Yeah, by blood,” I snap, “Not because he actually does anything to protect her like a big brother should. He can barely protect himself. But, outside of that conversation, it was another day.”

“Well, that’s good,” she sucks in another hit and then passes it off, “But don’t stress about it, Dame. Remember that your little sister is an extension of you. She just wants to help. You might not see it, but she looks up to both of you. And she needs both of you in this cold world. Destiny just wants to see him get his life together. Just like you. Except she chooses softness and optimism. Where you choose to be Mike Tyson with a chainsaw.”

I chuckle as she runs across my shoulders. She stops to reapply oil before continuing, traveling her hands lower until they’re at my waist. I take another hit of the blunt before handing it off.

“Yeah, you’re right, baby.”

“Well, I’m your wife for a reason. At your craziest, I’ll be here behind you with the straitjacket and bail money. But we won’t let you get that far. Right?”

I say through a smoke cloud, “Right.”

She finishes the massage, turning me so that she can straddle my waist cowgirl style. Our eyes meet within seconds while I’m rubbing her warm and soft thighs.

“Good answer.” She takes the blunt from between my fingers, puckering her lips around the tip before taking in a long, stress-relieving inhale. The smoke fills her mouth before escaping out through her nostrils. Her eyes venture from the roof back down to me. I feel like a dessert on the buffet stand with the way she’s staring holes through me. She uses her middle finger to pry open my mouth, lowering her body to blow smoke between my lips. Her tongue arrives soon after, dancing around mine before we lock lips.

“I want to fuck you so bad right now,” I say strongly. Morgan looks down at her phone, hair bouncing all over the place.