Chapter 2 – Michonne
"Ok wait, algebraic expressions? What does that mean, writing an algebraic expression?"
"I don't know." RJ answers as he crunches on apple wedges, while simultaneously dropping one onto the floor for his ever-present companion Ruff. "We haven't gone over it in class yet. The last section we went over was on ratios." He shrugs.
"Hm. Did you ask Judith?"
"She's next door in the pool house practicing her violin."
"Right, I forgot she had that virtual lesson today. Shit!" I curse, frustration rearing its ugly head.
"Language, Mom." RJ mutters, his brown eyes growing round with the curse word slipping out in a manner that he's probably more used to hearing from Rick than from me.
Rolling my eyes, I can't help but grimace at letting the expletive fly, but this week has been quite difficult. And it's only Wednesday. And Rick isn't even here to help.
Home schooling for the kids began on Monday, and while Rick and I originally setup a schedule for them to follow that we thought would help them and us manage it around our own work schedules, it went caput pretty quickly.
Monday began with an early morning call from Rick's dad that the two ponies that Herschel gifted us for the babies got out of their stalls either Sunday night or Monday morning. Either way they were missing, and he and Jeff could use some help running them down. Apparently, they are short staffed with many of the ranch hands being migrant workers that are frightened by the somber news of the ravages that Covid 19 is leaving in its wake as it makes its way from China, that many of them are moving on. Without that help to look for the horses, they needed outside assistance. That meant that Rick, who the kids usually go to for their math questions, hasn't been home for two days to help me keep everyone on their schedule.
On top of that, I had two meetings on Monday and Tuesday with the Marvel Studios executives advising me that the movie we are collaborating on for my new comic that brings in Storm from the X-Men, has to be postponed because of the virus. Disappointment is not a strong enough word to express the distress I'm experiencing with this news. I had just finished working on the script with Ryan Coogler, and we were ready to finalize casting, with us still undecided between Kiki Layne or Michaela Cole for the leading role of Storm. Two talented actresses, either of whom I really wanted to see take center stage in this massive project. Postponement of this project hurts.
This morning I got a call from the contractor who is working on the construction of our new house informing me that they were not considered essential and would also have to suspend their work. Not surprisingly, I actually expected this to happen, and I was a little worried about the employees still going to the site, working so closely.
It's not a surprise that the house we are living in, Rick's old house that he grew up in, is not sufficient in size for a family of eight. With only four bedrooms and three and a half baths, it's a stretch to give everyone enough space. While my parents still live next door, and our little brood often spills over into their house, once the babies were born, we knew it simply wasn't going to be enough. Judith is the only one with her own room, but it's small. Too small for her to even setup her chair and music to practice violin, hence why she practices in my parents' pool house. Andre and Carl share a room, but their man-sized bodies are way too big for the twin bunk beds that are pushed against each wall. And poor RJ is definitely not happy with the two little babies who have invaded his space and pushed his model cars and robots to one side. Nor is he happy with their schedule of waking up at least once a night, interrupting he and Ruff's sleep.
The new house was a good idea. A much-needed upgrade for the large Grimes family, that would have enough bedrooms for everyone but the babies to have their own room. By the time they would need it, Andre and Carl would be moved out. A pool of our own would grace the back yard, giving my parents' pool that needs to be resurfaced with fiberglass and replace the old vinyl liner, a much-needed break. And would provide a master suite for Rick and I that had room for the California King sized bed that we impulse purchased for our Georgia home after getting one for the house we still own in Los Angeles, and rent out as an Airbnb when we aren't using it. It's a big hit in that open floor planned home, with the big bedrooms. The modest master bedroom for our house here wasn't built for such a large bed, so despite the fact that Rick and I love to romp around in the large bed, it wasn't really practical.
Accumulating all of the things that this virus has taken from me in the last few days is beginning to gather a dark cloud over my mood. I've been here before, and at least I had fewer kids, less worries, and my constant work to keep me from wallowing in the hurt caused by his absence. I'm sorely missing my husband, and quietly resenting him not being here to help me at the same time as my brain tosses around the question of what the hell an algebraic expression is again.
Admittedly, the kids, with the exception of the babies of course, do a good job being self-sufficient, but every now again I have to make sure that everyone is where they are supposed to be, doing what they are supposed to do.
Glancing around the room to take a quick inventory of the Grimes bunch, I see that Carl and Andre are still firmly seated across from RJ with their heads down, plugging away, typing furiously, munching on hot Cheetos, and bobbing their heads to whatever is blasting in the tiny white AirPods adorning their ears. As RJ reminded me, Judith is in the pool house practicing her instrument. The babies are finally taking their afternoon nap for which I am extremely grateful.
And Cameron? Well as soon as Rick found out about Cameron and Judith, who aren't really boyfriend and girlfriend, mostly just crushing on each other, and tiptoeing around it because Judith isn't allowed to date until she turns 16, he not so politely suggested that he make my parents' home his while we wait this pandemic thing out. Even though my parents are working at their practice, and on call at Emory as needed, they agreed that it would probably be a good idea. Cameron is supposed to sleep over there, and school over there, especially if Rick is not home. His rule not mine, and while I don't think it's the best idea to make him feel like he's still waiting this thing out on his own, I have to respect Rick's decision.
After her caught them embarking on what Judith swears was their very first kiss, he has Judith and Cameron on their very own special version of lockdown. Judith will be turning 15 later this year, but Cameron is already 17, and that is still a big enough age difference that it gives me pause. Even though I have been there. I have been the young girl crushing on an older boy. But, I am most importantly a mother who does not want to see her baby girl rush into something she's not mature enough for. Being his friend is one thing. Again, been there, done that. But, being his girlfriend is another, and thinking of how Rick's and my own love story began in the same tree house her father caught them kissing in, makes me worry somewhat. It doesn't make me a murderous as Rick, who remained red-faced and pissed off for the rest of the night after he caught them, but it does give me pause. Even though...I get it.
I remember what it was like to have grown up watching someone somehow transform, right in front of you, from the gangly boy you were constantly in competition with, to the boy you wanted to kiss. And I can't blame Judith. She knows the story of her Rick and Michonne. Well she knows enough about it, not everything though. Secrets don't hold water with us, so her and her brothers are aware that Rick and I grew up together, and that we fell in love and got married. Yes, it is a fairly sanitized version of our messy rollercoaster relationship, as we didn't think it made sense to tell them too much of the ups and downs. Perhaps we should have. Perhaps it would have given Judith a measuring stick with which to gauge her own growing infatuation with Cameron. Only time will tell, but for now, a little space between her and Cameron is a good thing.
With the crunch, crunch, crunch of RJ and Ruff enjoying their afternoon snack of Honeycrisp apples, I pull my thoughts back to the matter at hand. Me, the lone wolf trying to help my little genius with his homework. Sucking in a deep breath, I still my nerves and pull the laptop over to where I'm sitting next to RJ at the dining room table, which has been converted to a makeshift classroom. There are Macbooks and iPhones, power cords, chargers, and iPads everywhere. At least their school is paperless, and all of their assignments are accessible on their devices. There is no dearth of textbooks and worksheets like when I was in school. Which is good because without the cleaning lady coming once a week, the whole house would have been swallowed by kids and their...stuff. I've had to ask the kids, more than once, to corral their shoes that have gathered in the entry foyer, their tossed aside hoodies that clutter the family room, and the lonely collection of cups, and half empty water bottles that somehow never belong to anyone. It's a mess that I'm just not used to.
And math? Well I'm just not used to that either, and let's be real and say there's a reason that I'm a writer and illustrator. My mind is about creation. Artistic expression! I hate math. I always have. What makes it even worse, if that's possible, RJ and Judith are both considered gifted, and are both taking advanced courses. I curse Rick internally once again as I continue to glance down at the glowing words and figures on RJ's laptop screen and read the question, over and over, wondering again, fruitlessly, what the hell this is, and how the hell am I supposed to help him?
Probably taking note of my silence, or maybe the grouses, and softly muttered curse words I'm trying to hide from him, RJ places his hand over mine. "Mom, when is Dad gonna be back?"
"Uh, I'm not sure, honey. But don't worry, I'm going to help you."
Inching his Macbook away from me, closing it shut with a soft snap, RJ levels me with those soft dark eyes of his, and as politely as an 11-year-old can, he tells me in no uncertain terms, "No thank you, Mom. I'll wait for Dad. Ok?"
"Why? I'm not busy right now, RJ. I just finished a call to my agent, and I'm free the rest of the day." I gather a smile for him and hope that he doesn't see through the sheer fright that's causing me to blink an inordinate amount of times.
"Mom..." he eeks out, wincing a bit, causing that little dimple in his chin that he shares with his father to deepen. It definitely melts my heart and makes me a little weepy just the same as I also notice that he's made it just around that corner where he's considered a 'tween'. The baby fat that once chubbed out his cheeks, is beginning to slim and leave behind pre-pubescent angles.
RJ is the baby that Rick and I made on a stormy night, out at his parents' farm, just as we were trying to figure out how to move forward after a long separation. If we even could move forward. It was a difficult time, but his conception was built on a love stronger than any I've ever known. And maybe, perhaps, for that reason, RJ, with his demeanor as a bit of a curious genius. A kid that loves stories and adventures with his dad, and hugs from his mom, represents to me the embodiment of both Rick and I, of the bond that reblossomed our love story. Seeing him grow older just, I don't know. It gets to me in a way that I'm not sure how to express except to savor the growth of that brace faced grin of his as he again tells me he'll just wait for his dad.
Just as I'm about to give it one more valiant try at attempting to understand RJ's homework, Judith saves me and comes in through the back door, toting her violin case and song book under her arm.
"Hey."
"Hey yourself. How was your lesson?"
"I don't know. Good I guess."
"You guess?"
"Yeah..." she answers, the word petering off and accompanied by a nonchalant wave of her hand as though her initial answer was good enough. Please don't let her have attitude today about this Cameron thing...I simply cannot. Not today!
"What did Miss Jasmine say in your lesson?" I inquire, knowing that violin is something that Judith normally takes very seriously. Since she was six, and decided that unlike her older brothers, piano was not going to be her thing, she has been quite dedicated to learning and playing the violin, coming a long way from the little girl who plucked out with one finger on her very first learner violin, a shortened version of 'Bicycle Built for Two' at her grandparents' anniversary party. Judith is a virtuoso now, even earning a coveted spot in the Atlanta Symphony Orchestra, beating out competitors much older and with more experience. But that's Judith. Once she puts her mind to something, she doesn't let it go. So much like Rick, she is simply tenacious with a capital T. And I suppose I should have remembered that when she levels me with her gaze, eyes wide and earnest, and asks if we can talk later. She wants to talk about Cameron, who I have tried to keep her separated from for most of this week. At least kept them both so busy that they can't find time to be alone together. I'm certain she's not happy about it, and in classic Judith style, she is not going to let this go. Pride in her relentlessness puffs my chest out, but also wounds me a little as I realize that I may have to go down this road with her on my own for now. I need Rick to come home already!
"Of course we can, Jude."
"Is Daddy back yet?"
"No!" RJ interrupts, "but I need him to come home soon. I need his help with math." He blurts sadly, running his fingers over the smooth metal of his laptop casing.
Perking up at the mention of one of her strongest school subjects, Judith grins at her little brother. "Oh. I can help you. I had Mrs. Robinson's class."
"Thank you! Thank you!" he laughs, his voice raising with animation as he claps his hands together in a prayer pose. Ruff feeds off of his excitement and begins to bark, gaining the attention of Andre and Carl.
"What's going on?" Carl wonders aloud, his eyes peeking from over his laptop screen.
Gesturing with his thumb my way, RJ answers, "Mom tried to help me with my math."
"Nooooo! Dude, why didn't you say something to me and Carl? We could have helped you." Andre muses, a series of chuckles raising his smile to his eyes.
Scratching at the bit of faint scruff attempting to scatter the tan coloring of his light brown cheeks, Carl nods his head, agreeing with Andre. "Never, dude, never."
Holding up my hands in a halting motion, I have to put a stop to this, because these little monsters are hurting my feelings. "Ok, wait! I'm not bad at math. I just don't enjoy it."
"Mom, no!" Judith responds, trying to placate me with a cute little condescending smile, and a pat on my shoulder. "We love you. And you rock at so many things. Seriously rock. Like no one's mom is as cool as you are."
"Absolutely!" Andre and Carl chime in together, evidencing that twin bond that often has them surfing the same wavelength at the same time. Finishing each others' sentences, generally in sync on so many things.
"Best mama ever!" RJ adds, leaning over to wrap his thin arms around my shoulders.
"See." Judith gestures towards her brothers. "But just really awful at math. It's a thing, Mom." She continues, taking a seat on my other side at the dining room table and gently, with the love and care of a musician, placing her violin on the table in front of her.
"I don't know if I should be appreciative of the compliment, or still offended that you goofballs don't think I can do math." Crossing my arms across my chest I lean back into my chair, feigning true offense. Honestly, I'm not offended at all. They pulled my card. I'm terrible at math. I just didn't expect them to call me out like this. Together. It's kind of awesome witnessing them having this moment of solidarity, but without my wingman, Rick, here to have my back, I gotta admit, being outnumbered 1 to 6 is not near as much fun as 2 to 6.
Andre removes his AirPods from his ears and closes his laptop shut, threading his fingers in a clasp in front of him. Frowning until his eyebrows, a mix of chestnut brown and sandy gold, angle between his eyes. "Mom, you shouldn't be offended. But, we have receipts."
"What?"
Snapping, Judith laughs, and rolls her neck in an exaggeration that no Atlanta housewife could compete with. "Read her, Dre!"
"What?"
"Exhibit A. Mom, do you remember when I was working on a rocking chair when I was 8 years old. It was the first one I was going to do on my own. Granddad Boden was still alive and helped me with the design. Do you recall this?"
Haltingly I respond, remembering full well where Andre is going with this. Damn. "Yes, I remember."
"Do you remember that I needed help with the measurements for the legs, and because Dad was out making a furniture delivery you decided to help me with them. Remember that, Mom?"
"Of course." I scoff, thinking that now would be a good time to go get dinner started.
"Do you also remember that when I began using your measurements the rocking chair tilted to the right because none of the legs were level?"
With as much sincerity and seriousness as I can muster, I mount my defense and add a little doubt to his assertion. "Maybe your cutting skills were rough that day? It happens, Andre."
"Mom, what about when you got in an argument with my 4th grade teacher, Mrs. Waylon about core math? Dad had to calm you down at that parent teacher conference when she told you to stop trying to help me."
"Listen, Carl, you don't have to make a bunch of little circles and boxes to know that 4x4 is sixteen. That's just facts."
"Just saying, Mom."
"Ooh, what about that time you were gonna make Grandma Grimes' peach cobbler and tried to wing it on converting ounces to cups?" Shaking her head sadly, with a snicker Judith adds, "Most shameful cobbler to ever come out of a Grimes Family peach ever."
Rolling my eyes, I defend myself. "Your dad ate that cobbler with no problem. You guys are just picky."
"Dad loves you too much to tell you when you're wrong." RJ adds, putting his two cents in. "We all do."
"Dad is the one who helped with the correct measurements for my rocking chair." Carl comments, furthering his brother's initial argument.
"And Dad is the one who re-wrote the recipe on your index cards with the proper conversions for you, that you thought you found on your own." Judith adds. "See, Mom. Math just isn't your jam."
Andre closes out his argument with a few final words, "But, if we need help with English, literature, art? You're the lady to see" he sums, with a click of his tongue and a wink of his eye, his finger pointed at me like a gun.
Pointing towards her violin, the instrument that I introduced her to all those years ago, Judith announces with glee. "Music!"
"Excellent taste in music, Mom! Who else would take her teenaged sons and daughter to a super chill Childish Gambino set on a school night at a club in Atlanta?"
Joining his twin, Carl snaps his fingers, "And don't forget you actually wrote the comic for, and executive produced like, the most popular television show of the last ten years. And you're gonna do a superhero movie. Doesn't get more boss than that, Mom."
Judith grimaces, "True story. But, poor Dad's definitely no help with those things. He's got match cause he measures and adds and whatnot all day. You can't make furniture with bad measurements. On the other hand, he's got crap taste in music, only likes dry books about furniture design or history, and the only thing he can draw is furniture."
"Oh yeah, that rockabilly country music he likes is pretty awful." Carl offers, then rises to head out of the room, snatching up his phone that is buzzing with an incoming text message. Probably from Cindy.
"Alright, you guys are not going to run down my husband when he's not here to defend himself." I point a finger at each of them. "I get it. I'm not great with math. Fine. RJ, let your sister help you then. I'm going to start on dinner before the babies wake up."
Rising from the dining room table, I want to chuckle myself at the truth of their words, but I don't want them to know it. Once I'm alone in the kitchen though, remembering every instance of my poor math skills that they brought up, I finally let go my laughter, wishing that Rick was here, and missing his presence all the same. Even his awful rockabilly country music.
XXXX
With a glass of sweet red wine to my lips, I absentmindedly accompany the mellow country lyrics of a song that plucks at my lonely heartstrings and reminds me of my bearded, cowboy booted, blue jean button-uped, sexy walking husband.
"How do I get through one night without you?
If I had to live without you
What kind of life would that be?"
I hear ya, Leanne I think to myself, shuffling my slippered feet across the tiles of the large kitchen. With all of the kids now sleep, and after a big dinner of spaghetti and meatballs, and a viewing of one of our favorite family movies, Jumanji, I'm left by myself. Alone with my thoughts. Laughter, teasing, baby cries, text message alerts, blaring music. All of it has dampened to nothingness, leaving behind only the quiet din of the refrigerator's hum, and the pour of more of the scarlet wine into my glass.
The kids and I had fun today, I think, amazed that we made it through another day of this crazy quarantine life. They all got their schoolwork done, math included. Judith got her violin lesson completed, and as she seemed to prefer putting off her chat with me about Cameron until Rick returns, they spent a little time together today as she helped him read through a script he just got for a show he's auditioning for. Carl spent an inordinate amount of time Facetiming Cindy, which I think I'm going to have to cut down to maybe 2 hours a day. Andre even got a chance to have a Zoom meeting with his baseball team, as they all commiserated over what might be the loss of their spring baseball season to the faceless virus Covid 19, and what they were all doing to stay baseball ready. RJ and Ruff joined me as I took a walk through the neighborhood, pushing the babies slowly, taking note of things that I normally speed past on my way to or from some thing or another. Kids' games or practices. Meetings. Work. Shopping. The myriad of things that keep our lives running on a seemingly never-ending hamster wheel.
Right now though, when the world has collectively decided in the face of a nearly inconceivable occurrence, that everything needs to stop. Relegating us all to our individual corners, a time out from the constant fight of life, to kind of do, well...nothing. Now that my mind isn't consumed with constantly doing something, I'm taking notice of everything. The tiny flowering of weeping willows, the very first Georgia trees to leaf in the spring. I could even make out the sight of what I think was a cardinal, or as my mother calls them, Christmas Card Birds, perched in a tree on the corner of my parents' wooded lot, by the driveway. The sound of life all around me was so beautiful, and in the midst of what could be a very overwhelming moment in time, I took a second to be appreciative of this moment to pause.
It was a good day. Even the ribbing from the kids about my lackluster math skills. All of it was good. It was a positive sign that we would make it through this. Whatever this turns out to be, for however long it stretches. But, as my feelings, the raw, thorny ones inch to the surface, emboldened by the bitter sweetness of the wine, I have to admit that Rick's absence the last few days leaves a particular hole in the happiness of the day.
At first, my initial inclination was to censure myself for feeling melancholy, maybe even sad that he wasn't where he was supposed to be. Where I wanted him to be. By my side. With our kids. With our family, instead of helping his parents. Those thoughts, dark as they may be, have roots in another time where Rick was absent. Where the kids and I spent our days and nights together, making our way without the constant of his love and care. When the void of father and husband had been precariously filled by another. Another who is now quite famous, and though the kids seem to have somewhat forgotten him, especially Judith, every now and again Andre or Carl will experience a reverie. A memory of something that Ezekiel used to say, or used to do. It's unclear whether or not they realize the place he held in our lives, or if they recall him with some fondness as they do the other cast of characters they have become familiar with as they spent much of their lives on the set for my television show. But...the memory is still there. Living and breathing just a blink away.
Perhaps that is what has me swaddled in Rick's blue robe, heavily cloaking me with the scent of him, as I try not to allow this reclusive moment in a lifetime of otherwise happy ones, to pull my mood down.
"How do I live without you? I want to know
How do I breathe without you if you ever go?
How do I ever, ever survive?
How do I, how do I, oh, how do I live?"
Gulping down the last of the wine, I settle on heading to bed, hoping that the babies' bellies remain full for the rest of the night and that I don't have to tackle another round of wet diapers, and double breast feeding alone. Just as I reach for my phone, it lights up, startling me as I snatch my hand back, almost wondering if I conjured the illumination on my own. Instantly noticing Rick's ringer, Patsy Cline's 'Sweet Dreams', the song that we danced all night to at Connie and Daryl's wedding.
Sliding my finger across the screen, I'm hungry for the sound of his voice, sheepishly scolding myself for acting as though I didn't just talk to the man this morning.
"Hey, baby."
"Hey, sweetheart. How did today go?" His deep, bass heavy voice greets me, and I simply melt. Why does this man still do that to me? My lips involuntarily pull into a grin at just the sound of his voice. How ridiculously in love with him am I? Still!
Sniffing a little, I rub at my nose, sensing a shaky weepiness encroaching on the usual stillness of my voice, just at hearing Rick call me his usual name for me 'sweetheart'.
"It was good," I cough, "Good."
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah. How about your day?" I ask, following his lead, but really wanting to ask him when he was coming home.
"Great. Found the ponies down behind Stonewall creek. Got 'em back in the barn. Turns out one of the new farmhands didn't secure the latch, so they just walked on out of their stalls, out of the barn that also wasn't secured."
"Surprised Jeff doesn't do a nighttime sweep for that kind of stuff like you used to."
"I know. I got in his ass about it too. He's gotta take his job more seriously. Hire better people. Keep a better watch on things. Ya know?"
"I do."
"Hate to get on him but..."
"But what, Rick?"
"I can't be running down to KC every time there's an issue. I've got my own family to look out for."
"They're your family too." He's right. But, something in me doesn't want to add fuel to that fire. They are his family too, and yet...we have been here before.
Rick releases a breath, exasperation clear in his tone. He sounds tired. "I'm not going to be that guy again, Chonne. I promised you that before."
"Rick..."
"I meant it. Now I got a sad wife sitting at the kitchen table, downing glasses of wine like it's wat-"
"Rick! How do you know that?"
"Turn around."
Swiveling my head behind me, following his direction, I can't believe what I'm seeing. Like he's been there all along, Rick is leaning his shoulder against the doorway, a somber smile beneath that graying beard. How did he sneak up on me? Am I too drunk to have noticed the heavy pace of his cowboy boots?
Tossing his phone on to the marble counter, he tilts his head to the right, squinting his eyes until they animate the little lines at the corners of his eyes. His face is still so handsome to me. Kissed by the sun, he's a little tanned, not too much. Just a little. Salt and pepper crowd the silk of his unruly curls that are starting grow over his ears.
Wanting to go to him, but also concerned that he's here in the middle of the night, I hold myself back, needing him to explain what's going on. "What are you doing here? You drove home this late?"
"I made you a promise a long time ago, that you and our kids are my first priority. I meant that."
"I know."
"Do you? Me getting up, heading down to the farm, that..." he swallows thickly, as though emotion is clogging his throat, choking his words. "I could hear it in your voice, Chonne."
"I'm okay, Rick. You didn't have to-"
Ambling towards me, his boots softly click against the tile. Leaning down behind me, his face rests against my shoulder. As his lips land on my cheek, beard bristling in the sweetest tickle, Rick's hand inches between the folds of the robe and land in a gentle palmed squeeze of my breast.
"I did have to. I had to remember my promise to you. To our babies."
"The ponies-"
"Jeff could have taken care of that. It's my job to take care of you. Sometimes, I act first, and I'm sorry. We have history there, don't we, sweetheart. That makes it...difficult."
"Rick, not difficult, just...sometimes I remember what it was like when we were apart. I hate my part in it. Your part in it. I don't want to remember."
"Sweetheart, I belong to you, and you belong to me. Always." He pauses for a beat, the intensity growing, breathing between us. Because Rick remembers too. He knows what our time apart did to not just me, but to him too. Simply put, it crushed him. It's something he has admitted that he still feels guilt about. "Chonne, sweetheart, say it." He urges, the request left in sweet damp whispers against the corner of my lips. "Say it."
"I belong to you, and you belong to me."
"That's right. Me and you, Chonne, and this family you and I made. Nothing gets between that again. Ok?"
"Ok."
"So, I'm sorry. I told my parents and Jeff before I left. It's...it's on Jeff to figure all of that out from now on. No more back and forth. I remember, Chonne. God help me I remember the damage we did to each other before. It won't happen again. I won't have you here, trying to manage without me."
No words are sufficient. This man...this beautiful man, who loves me, adores me, he knows exactly how I was feeling with him gone. I don't even need to conjure the words to explain or discuss something that between me and Rick is simple, and pure. Implicitly understood. I don't bother with words, I just inch my hand up to cup the side of his face. A gentle caress of my fingertips through his beard, a soft graze of his warm skin.
Biting at the corner of his lip, Rick closes his eyes, as though he missed my touch. Savors the electricity that arcs at the simple meeting of our skin. "I'm home to take care of my girl." He promises with new kisses that grow from soft pecks on my cheek, nibbles on my ear, to licks and hard sucks on my neck. Growling, his voice full of that low rumble of southern gentleman masculinity that makes me wet every single time, he asks against my ear "Forgive me?"
Panting, my chest rising and falling against his large, warm palm cupping my breasts with one hand, thrumming his calloused fingers against my nipple, and my throat in a soft clasp with the other. I turn my face to answer in the most breathless whisper I can conjure against the lust stealing every ounce of my composure, "Yes."
"Come on. Let me apologize to my wife."
"Well you do have a lot to make up for."
"Oh, I know." He chuckles, offering me his hand to lift me from the chair.
"Not just the going to KC thing either. The kids ganged up on me about my lack of math skills." I confess, my lips twisted in a fake pout.
Pulling me into him, his arms snug around my body, crushing me against the wall of his hard chest, Rick leans in, and just before he kisses me, he mutters against the pillow of my lips, "I know, they called me and told me you threatened to help RJ with his math work."
Snatching my head back, I'm incredulous at their nerve. Mouth gaping, I simply shake my head.
"Poor boy was afraid you were gonna tank his grades."
"What?! I'm gonna get that little boy!"
"He also told me his mama was missing his daddy."
"Well he didn't lie about that."
"I missed his mama too. I'm about to show you just how much." Rick promises, sinking his teeth in a seductive bite into my neck, causing me to squeal, just as he clutches and squeezes a handful of my ass in his hands. Squealing, Rick takes advantage and swallows down my delight, devouring my mouth in a hungry suck of my lips. Leaving me breathless, simply without air, he turns and takes my hand to lead me upstairs to our bedroom.