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He groans and gets to his feet, adjusting himself. “Work into it?”

“If you still want that.” I’m trying not to sound too hopeful about the prospect, even though I am.

Please say yes.

“Oh, I want it.” Emerson’s hands are under my arms and then I’m off my feet and eye level with him. “I’ll want to touch you. See you. Every part of you, Tanisha.”

I swallow hard. I can do that. “Same.”

He sets me down and presses his lips to my forehead. “I’ll want to kiss you.”

“You kiss me all the time.”

“Every part of you.”

“Oh.” I wave my hand in front of my face at the heat that image induces. “Agreed.”

“Okay. Okay. I have to get the kids.” He scrubs his face with his hands. “I forgot Barry’s eardrops. That’s why I came in. I wasn’t expecting you to be here.”

“Surprise.”

He laughs and gives me a sideways look. “I’m bringing pizza home, so don’t make anything.”

“I know already. We’re having game night. Langston asked me to put it on my schedule.”

“He takes game night very seriously.” He bends down again and presses his face in the crook between my shoulder and neck. “You smell so good. I’d rather stay and have you for dinner. Let’s agree to lose the game as fast as possible, so I can get you alone.”

And then he’s gone

and I collapse on the bed like a puppet whose strings have been cut.

I need to get over my issues, and fast. I’m not sure I can wait too much longer for Dot Dot Dot.

Chapter Six

Emerson

I wander through the bedroom, once again noticing the changes she’s made. There’s color everywhere. A red-and-orange scarf over the lamp beside the bed. Enough throw pillows for a small mountain.

How many of those does she have?

The dresser is weighted down with a collection of flavored lip gloss and jewelry.

For years it’s been me and the boys. Sweat and pine needles. Bare walls, muddy shoes and frozen dinners. This is better. Her scent. Her touch on everything. I can’t imagine going back to the way things were, and it’s only been a few weeks.

Not all of her things got my seal of approval. I moved her life-sized M’Baku out of my closet the day before yesterday and gave it to the boys, right in front of her.

She stared at me with wide eyes but didn’t say anything, because Barry and Lang were both too happy with their present. Other than Shuri, he was their favorite Black Panther character. I knew she wouldn’t have the heart to take it away from them.

She paid me back later. She tortured me, not with a reality show, but with the first of what I imagine will be many holiday movies, while I sat on my hands and gave her freedom to explore my bare chest with her mouth and hands.

“We’re working into this,” I told her, “but that doesn’t mean I’m okay with you getting off to another man. Real or not.”

“It was a present. Watch the movie.”

“Why? Why would you force me to watch Chiwetel’s best friend putting the moves on his new wife? That doesn’t fill me with holiday spirit. I’d rather watch that Tidying Up show again.”

“You probably think Die Hard is a good holiday movie.”

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