Page 60 of Truce Of The Matter

“And you think bringing this body in the tub with me and I’m naked too is going to lead to talking?” he groans sexily in my ear.

“Mm hmm,” I moan, failing miserably at my attempt to say yes but I quickly regroup, focusing back on our talk. “Yes, it will because you need to talk. Even though it pains me to stop the pleasurable assault by his fingers, I place my hand over his then say sternly, “This is for later. Right now, I’m ready for this tub.”

I remove his hand reluctantly, slide my panties down, then step down into the water. When I’m comfortably seated, he stepsto the faucet, kills the streams, then removes his clothes. His face scrunches a little when he first steps down into the hot water but it loosens once he’s seated beside me. After grabbing one of the extra-large sponges from the basket, I dip it into the water then rub it across his exposed shoulders, squeezing the water as I do.

“I’ve never used this thing,” he utters.

“What? This tub?” I question, in total disbelief.

“Yeah. Aryel loves it but I shower.”

“Really? I would live in here. It’s already beautiful but these jet streams, my God. They are gently massaging my entire body. I know you feel ’em.”

“Yeah, it’s tight actually.”

“But why have such a special tub made if you weren’t going to use it?”

“When I decided to move back home for my baby girl, I knew I wanted to build my forever house for me, her, and my wife.”

“So, even after your first divorce you knew you wanted to get married again?”

“Of course. Man wasn’t built to live this world without his person, his woman. I hoped that my first marriage would be my one and only but that wasn’t meant for me. If I’m being honest, shit, she wasn’t meant for me. I saw little signs but I guess I wanted to believe in us so much that I just let that shit slide. I’ll never regret Aria though because with her, I got my little princess.” His arm hooks around my waist and he scoops me up onto his lap. “Enough of the past. I want to focus on my future,” he says.

“Me too but we have to talk about today first and why your forehead has been wrinkled like this since your sister,” I say before running my wet finger across his forehead. “Talking about it will help.”

“But it won’t change shit,” he scoffs.

“It will change how you feel about it. Holding on to stuff really affects you. It might not show in your physical but it fucks with your mental and emotional state and that’s worse, especially for those around you.” My hand caresses his face as I stare into his eyes and he peers into mine. I don’t waver though because I’m not letting this go. He needs to unburden himself and talk this out. “Why were you so upset today?” I ask.

His other hand wraps around me and he pulls me into him. “You really want to hear this?”

“’Yes because I want you to get it off your chest. I don’t like this hurt in your eyes,” I admit, voice soft and pleading.

He scoots back, resting on the wall of the tub. The feel of the massage jets seems more intense here. While his hands caress my back, he softly peppers kisses on my lips. At first, I think he’s trying to distract me but when he drops his head back, I realize that he’s ready.

“It’s fucked up,” he utters then shakes his head. “My sister fucked up tonight. Bad. Real fucking bad and on our parents’ damn anniversary. He was her ex-husband and that nigga’s a real no-shit, bum ass nigga. He beat her real bad and stole every fucking thing she had.”

“Oh God. Damn,” I utter.

He roughly swipes his hand down his face then lifts his head back up straight. “I dumped out so much money to pay shit off for her: her hospital bills, getting her back here. Shit, setting her up, but it ain’t even about the bread. Ion even care about that shit. It’s really about the disrespect to our brother. He did what I should have and ended up doing three years. Three years and Lyra brought that nigga to the barbecue. What the fuck was her ass thinking?” he asks but I know he isn’t expecting an answer so I don’t give one. I simply caress his face to reinforce that I’m here and listening.

“Seeing him took me there. I wanted to knock his ass out and I did without thinking first. In front of my baby though; I scared her. That’s the shit I regret. Shit! I let that nigga take me there. Fuck,” he grits with remorse.

“She wasn’t scared,” I assure him. “Just surprised and really worried. She thought you and her uncle were going to get hurt but I promised her that he wasn’t going to hurt y’all. I had her, so trust me; you didn’t scare her.” His eyebrows raise, unsure, but I repeat my words for emphasis. “I had her, Rex. She wasn’t scared.”

He nods then shrugs. “And my moms. She was crying and shit, all devastated. Their whole party was ruined. I just don’t even know why Lyra would even be entertaining this nigga,” he says.

“Maybe you should talk to her and see where her head is,” I suggest.

“I can’t even look at my sister right now,” he admits sternly.

“I’m not saying talk to her tonight or even tomorrow but when you get past your anger and can just see your sister who probably needs your help again.”

“I don’t know,” he says while shaking his head. “I just don’t know if I can ever talk to her.”

“She’s your sister and you love her, so you will talk to her again. That’s what family does. We disappoint, hurt, and even upset each other but the love is always there,” I say with an equal amount of hope for him and Lyra as I have for Daija and me.

It’s been a week and while Daija and I haven’t talked, she has been responding to my texts. I’m hopeful that her one and two word responses are a start, a new start for us. I love her with all my heart and believe that deep down, she still loves me too, just like I know Rex loves his sister.

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