Page 40 of Certified Pressure 3
That did it.
“Your mama was rude as hell,” I said, my voice sharp. “That’s what’s wrong with me.”
He glanced over again and let out a small breath through his nose. “She don’t sugarcoat shit. She don’t do that for nobody, not even me.”
“It don’t matter who she do it to,” I snapped. “It don’t feel good, and you sitting here acting like it’s normal.”
He gripped the wheel tighter. “She my mama, Kash. She is who she is. I can’t change that.”
“So you taking her side now?” I asked, turning toward him fully.
“I ain’t takin’ shit,” he said quickly, his voice firmer now. “All I’m sayin’ is she direct with everybody. That’s how she talk. It don’t mean she don’t like you. It don’t mean she don’t want us together. You readin’ too deep into that shit.”
“Reading too deep?” I repeated, laughing out of disbelief. “Pressure, she brought up the fact that you got a baby on the way with somebody else. How the fuck am I supposed to just sit there and smile through that?”
He sighed and leaned back in his seat. “You can’t be in your feelings about everything.”
I turned and stared at him, my anger boiling over. “You know what? Maybe if you wasn’t fuckin’ me and Pluto at the same time, we wouldn’t even be going through this shit right now.”
He didn’t say anything at first. The car was quiet except for the sound of the wind slapping the windows. Then he spoke low. “You right,” he said, his voice calmer than I expected. “You right,Kash. And if that’s how you feel, then you can walk away. I don’t ever wanna be the reason you unhappy.”
That shut me up completely. The words hit hard even though he said them so cool. I turned my face back toward the window and blinked fast, trying to hold in the tears that were pushing up. I didn’t say another word for the rest of the ride. Neither did he.
When we finally made it back to the mansion, he parked the car, turned off the engine, and just sat there for a second. I didn’t wait on him. I got out, grabbed my purse, and went inside. I didn’t have it in me to walk far, so I stopped in the living room and dropped my bag on the couch. My heels were killing me, so I slipped them off and sat down, burying my face in my palms. Everything I had been holding in on that ride came out all at once. I didn’t even care about fucking up my makeup.
I felt him come in behind me after a few minutes. I heard his steps get closer, then the couch dipped beside me. He sat with his legs spread, his elbows on his knees and his fingers clasped together like he was thinking hard about something.
He spoke quietly. “I don’t even know what you want me to do at this point.”
I lifted my head and wiped my face with my hands, trying to breathe through the ache in my chest. My eyes were still wet, and when I looked at him, all I saw was the man I loved but couldn’t understand half the time. “I don’t know either,” I said honestly. “But somethin’ gotta give.”
He stayed quiet, just watching me. His eyes softened a little, but he still looked tired, like the weight of everything was getting to him too.
I took a deep breath. “Maybe we need to see a therapist or something ‘cause I don’t know if we gon’ make it without help. We keep arguing about the same shit, and it’s draining me.”
He looked at me like he was thinking it over, then finally nodded slow. “Shit, let’s go then.”
That caught me off guard. I was expecting him to argue or shut it down, but he didn’t. For a second, I didn’t even know what to say.
I sighed, pushing my hair back from my shoulders. “Okay.”
He nodded again and leaned back into the couch, his eyes on the floor. We didn’t say much else after that. The quiet was different this time, though.
Later that night, I took a shower by myself. Usually, me and Pressure showered together, but tonight I needed space. I let the water run hot until the steam filled the bathroom and tried to wash the heaviness off me. It didn’t work.
When I got out, I dried off, put on my silk gown, and climbed into bed. Pressure was still in the bathroom, and when he finally came out, he didn’t say anything. He turned off the light, slid in beside me, and faced the other way.
For a while, we just laid there in silence, our backs turned to each other. I hated it. I hated that this was what we had become tonight.
After a few minutes, I felt him move. The bed shifted, and then I felt his arm slide around me. He pulled me in close, his hand resting over my stomach. His skin was warm, and I could feel his breath against my shoulder.
Even after everything that was said, his touch still made me melt. That was the part that scared me most. No matter how mad I got, and no matter how deep we cut each other with words, I couldn’t unlove him. I couldn’t detach myself from the way he made me feel.
I held his arm tighter against me with my eyes closed, trying to stop the tears were trying to fall. He pressed his face against my neck and whispered, “I got you.”
And just like that, the tension eased. I didn’t forgive him in that moment, and I sure as hell wasn’t over what happened, but I loved him too deep to sleep without him holding me.
For better or worse, Pressure had my whole heart, and that was exactly why it hurt so much.
