Chapter 13

"What doyou mean you got married?" my agent questioned.

She'd been flooding my inbox for days like I hadn't told her I was taking a sabbatical. Granted, I didn't tell her why, but that didn't matter. I wasn't working, and that was that. Brenda had been in the literary world for twenty-plus years. She worked with some of the biggest names to date, and she was a beast at her job… so much so that she didn't know when to stop working. I was going to leave her on read, but Kachelle told me to go on and call her back. Against my will, I called her via Facetime while my wife got ready for the day.

"I meant exactly what I said, Brenda. I got married."

"Since when were you even dating anybody?"

"That's neither here nor there. The point is, I've taken the next couple of weeks off to spend with my wife. I'm not writing, I'm not illustrating, and I'm not touring. I need to be close to home right now."

She sighed heavily as she rubbed her temples. "You're killing me, Jacob. You realize you have a deadline for this next book, right?"

"And it'll get done. Don't I always deliver?"

"You do, but?—"

"But what? Like I said, it'll get done. Let me enjoy married life for a little bit, Brenda."

Just as I said that, Kachelle came out of the bathroom dressed in a sports bra and some little ass shorts. My eyes followed her from the bathroom to the dresser where she bent over to dig in a bottom drawer.

"Damn…" I mumbled.

"Jacob!" Brenda yelled.

"Huh?"

"You don't hear me talking to you? What's got you so distracted?"

I chuckled. "My wife. Baby, come here."

She slowly approached the bed and took a seat beside me.

"Brenda, this is my wife, Kachelle. Kay, this is Brenda, my agent."

Kachelle smiled. "It's nice to meet you, Brenda."

"It's nice to meet you too. She's beautiful, Jacob."

"Ain't she, though?" I leaned in and pecked Kachelle's lips. "You see why I need to be close to home?"

She rolled her eyes. "Fine. I need a tentative return date, though. There are contracts and money on the table. I'm working on some big things in your favor right now. I need to know you're all in."

"I hear you. Give me three more weeks."

"Three— fine. Three weeks it is. Enjoy married life. Kachelle, good luck with this one. May he work your nerves the same way he works mine."

Kachelle giggled as Brenda ended the call.

"Are you giving her a hard time?" she asked.

"Not intentionally. You, on the other hand… you're giving me a hard time in these little ass shorts."

She playfully slapped my chest. "This is how I dress in the comfort of my home."

"Shit, I ain't mad at it."

I playfully tossed her on the bed and proceeded to kiss all over her. Her laughter was music to my ears. It had quickly become one of my favorite sounds. I finally let up off her and sat back on the bed.

"What are you about to do?" I asked.

"Take this weave out. This shit is hot, and Santorini has me needing a major wash day."

"You need any help?"

She raised an eyebrow. "You? Help me take my weave out?"

I shrugged, "Why not?"

"Baby… if you cut my hair… I swear to God."

"Ain't nobody gon' cut your hair, woman. I got this. Go get the scissors, a comb, and whatever else you need, and meet me in the living room."

I smacked her ass before hopping up from the bed and heading to the living room. I grabbed a few of her favorite snacks from the kitchen and then made her comfortable palette on the floor with a couch cushion. I also grabbed her a blanket to cover up with. While I waited for her to come out, I put on what she told me was her favorite movie.

The Five Heartbeats.

I chuckled to myself as I thought about the debate we had over what was better, this or The Temptations.

"Don't start your shit during my movie," I heard behind me.

I grinned. "I'm not even playing with you. We both know which is better."

She playfully mushed me as she took a seat in front of me with a basket full of hair essentials. After digging through it, she produced the comb, the scissors, and a few hair clips.

"I'm trusting you with my hair, Jacob. Don't let me down."

"Watch your man work."

She relaxed between my legs, and I went to work separating her leave out from the tracks. Once it was pinned, I carefully began cutting the thread out of her head. I made sure not to cut the tracks. I knew my sister liked to reuse hair. As soft and luxurious as this hair was, I knew it had to be expensive, so I was diligent in not damaging it. In no time, I'd cut out four bundles and handed them to her while she watched and recited the movie word for word.

Once that was done, I busied myself with taking out her braids down.

"Have you done this before?" she asked, running her fingers through the hair.

"I'm a very accommodating man, Mrs. Mitchell. You'd be surprised by the things I've done for women I entertained. Imagine what I'll do for my wife."

She giggled. "It just makes me wonder why no woman snatched you up before. I mean, this is some romance book type of shit."

"Listen, I may write children's books, but I read for the grown folks. I've seen plenty of women say the type of man they look for is written in the pages of their favorite romance novels."

"Oh, so you were taking notes?"

I chuckled. "Maybe."

"Have you ever thought about writing romance?"

"I have. I write for ages two to eleven mostly. I have a few young adult novels. Writing for adults would require a different pen name because I wouldn't want to mix the two. I have a few things in my arsenal that I could put out."

"Anything you'd let me read?"

"Maybe. Keep in mind I'm an artist, and I'm sensitive about my shit."

She giggled. "I hear you."

I continued to take down her braids and I was pleasantly surprised at how much hair she had and how long it was. It reached the middle of her back, and it was very healthy. I understood protective styles, but honestly, she didn't need weave at all. Her hair was beautiful. I couldn't help but run my fingers through it and massage her scalp. Her eyes closed, and her head dropped back. A low moan escaped her throat.

"Can I wash it for you?" I asked, kissing her temple.

"Mmm hmm."

I stood from the couch and pulled her to her feet. After grabbing her shampoo, conditioner, and two towels from the bathroom, I met her in the kitchen. Lifting her from the floor, I placed her on the island. I rolled one of the towels to place under her neck and instructed her to lie down.

She was all smiles as she got comfortable. Unbeknownst to her, acts of service were my love language. I loved being useful to my woman. In the past, that worked against me, but I didn't think that would be a problem with her. Once she was comfortable, I turned on the water and adjusted the temperature. Grabbing the spray nozzle, I worked to dampen her hair. With it fully saturated, I squeezed a generous amount of shampoo into my hands and massaged it into her scalp.

Again, her eyes closed, and she moaned softly as I hit the sensitive spots in her head. I admired her beautiful curls coming back to life. There was just something about natural hair on a black woman that did it for me every single time.

"How's that feel?" I asked, hovering over her.

"Perfect…"

She peered up at me. With a single look, she beckoned my lips to hers. Our lips and tongues intertwined in a sensual and sexy kiss as I continued to massage her scalp. An act so simple as washing hair felt damn near erotic with her. It took everything in me not to climb on top of her ass on this island and give her the business.

I pulled away long enough to rinse the shampoo from her hair and squeeze out the excess water. After wrapping a towel around her tresses, I scooped her up and placed her on a stool at the island. She was shocked when I proceeded to detangle her hair in sections before I added the conditioner.

"You are gonna be a total girl dad," she said with a giggle.

"I'm not gonna lie. I'd love a little princess to spoil. She can brag about Daddy doing her hair."

"Did you get your practice in with Jessa?"

"I did. She wanted to live in my skin as a kid, so I made sure I was well-versed in taking care of all of her needs. My mother used to get so mad when she would be still for me to do her hair, but she gave her or the lady at the salon hell. She used to make me go to appointments and hold her just so she would act right."

"That's so sweet. I'd love to see pictures of you two as children."

"My mother has plenty. Hopefully, I can show them to you soon. Maybe showing embarrassing photos of me as a child will be an icebreaker."

"Maybe. I really hope everybody comes around soon. I love our little bubble, but I can't say I don't miss my family, Jacob."

"I know, baby. We just have to keep praying on it."

Every night since we touched back down, we'd said an intentional prayer for our families to accept each of us into their lives. As two family-oriented people, this shit was really fucking with both of us. Prior to us getting married, we both had great relationships with our parents. I wanted to know my in-laws. I wanted my parents to know my wife and love her the way I knew we would grow to love each other.

Maybe the way we did things wasn't traditional, but our end game was.