Love Redeemed, Book 4 (47 page)

I
eventually realize Rayna’s sick again. I suppose spending so much time with a toddler would wreak havoc on your immune system. She’s been sluggish getting out of bed and takes long periods in the bathroom in the mornings. Even her breakfast orders to Chef Boyd are light and barely eaten. One day, I came home early to grab something from the office and found her sprawled out on the couch in the great room. I didn’t question her, just made sure she was okay and had everything she needed before heading back out—actually I was shooed out in her crankiness. A sleepy Rayna is a cantankerous Rayna. It hadn’t bothered me in the least bit. My lady is home. The castle is now perfectly settled because of her return.

It’s t
he night before I’m due in Phoenix, when I come through the door, a waggling Azna meets me. I’m damp from sweat. I balled with Mark and Eric, which was less of a recreational activity and more of a sport in comedic comebacks and staying above the physical fray for Eric and Mark. They really need to invest more time into their bodies. I enjoy being with my corny ass friends and took it all in good fun.

In the master su
ite, I let Azna down and crawl on top of the bed to lay behind Rayna. Her back is to me and she’s underneath the sheets with her housecoat on. I don’t know if her current illness has caused her to feel delusional sense of cold or what, but she’s snuggled tightly under all the fabric. Her right arm instinctively comes up and wraps around my neck. She’s chewing gum, something she’s been doing lots of lately, either that or sucking on candy. I cup her at the waist and breathe into her neck, getting aroused by the familiar scent.

“Ewwwww…Jacobs, you
reek!” she screeches as she crunches into fetal position.

Rayna never minds my
odor after a workout or playing ball, in fact, she never utters a complaint. So I roll my tongue over the the smooth skin of her neck. Rayna moans as she recoils, innately yielding to my need of her. That’s all I need to know, I still impact her sexually.

“Be right back. I’m gonna shower,” I growl in her ear and regretfully leave the bed.

As I shower, I concoct a plan as to how I’m going to take my wife and bring her to another spine trembling orgasm, even consider bringing out the cuffs, making her ride me rodeo with no hands. I rush through my shower and hurriedly rinse off, foregoing the usual beating of my muscles underneath the scorching cascade. Once I’m toweled dry, I all but leap back into the bedroom only to find my wife, not only sleeping, but snuffling in slumber.

Fuck.

I feel brute for sulking, but I can’t lie, my sacs are heavier than a motherfucker. It’s been a few weeks. Nonetheless, I won’t wake her healing body. As I peel her out of her robe and tuck her in, I hope whatever new germs she’s caught from Erin quickly dissipate and when I return from Phoenix I can indulge in her playground again.

I end up back in my office to make a few calls and send out emails in preparation for my trip.
   

~~~~~~~~~~

Rayna

“Hi, Rayna!” Dr. Barnes greets with her Ruby Woo stained lips.

Although I’ve been waiting in here for over a half an hour, I can’t help but appreciate s
he’s definitely a diva with her straight bangs and long tresses falling beneath her shoulder in to a bob cut to precision.

Sh
e hooks her black
Charlotte Olympia
pumps into the roller stool and gracefully slides it underneath her and sits. I know these shoes because the last time I was here for my annual, I’d worn the same Charlotte Debonaire Platform pump and she animatedly commented on how she had the same pair that she primarily wore for work. That struck me as funny as she was wearing a pair of
Yves Saint Laurent
Tribtoo patent pumps that day. I recall because they were patent leather and I don’t do patent leather…well until that day when I saw how Dr. Barnes rocked them fiercely.

My phone goes off for the second time since I’ve been here. It’s Azmir and I’m afraid to answer for fear that he’ll ask where I am. If I mention GYN, all types of bells will sound in his over-involved-in-Rayna’s-feminine-world mind. I send him to voicemail and return my attention back to the task at hand. I recall how I’ve sent him out of town without a release. That’s something I don’t typically practice. I make it my business to drain Azmir before each departure unless something unavoidable presents itself.

“What can we do for you today, chica?” Dr. Barnes smile
s her dazzling, two million dollar smile. She’s up there with Azmir per her alignment. “You were here hardly six months ago,” she comments while skimming my file.

This doctor is fierce and that is the only way I can describe her. She looks to be barely thirty years old and always wears a full face, primed with tactful colors against her flawless chestnut skin. She runs her own practice, and is very responsive to my questions about my body. I
know of her through Michelle from years ago. When I decided to dump my old GYN, Dr. Barnes was the first practice I looked up and I’ve have been hooked since my first visit. There aren’t too many young, stylish, and competent professionals that I come across. Michelle used to say Dr. Barnes reminded her of me. I didn’t see it. This chick could sit me in a corner with all of her swag.

I lick my dry lips as I try to formulate my words. “Well, Doc B,” I stall. “I’ve been a little off lately
.” I trace my lip with my left thumb.

“Damn! I forgot all about your wedding!” she trills in her
valley girl manner, lifting my hand to admire my rings. “How was it? I’ve heard about your husband, chica. He’s a big fish!” She’s all teeth, full-on glittering smile. “Girl, you know how hard it is for us black professional women to hook a good one! You did that and beyond,” she gleams.

“Yeah,
” I sigh ruefully.
I do
. “He’s definitely been hooked,” I retort with a faux smile, thinking about how Azmir would
really
be hooked if I am, in fact, with child.

“Okay, chica. What can I do you for today
?” she flicks her long and behaved weave that I struggle with if it’s a weave at all, this is how immaculate this woman is.

“Well, I’ve been sick lately. I was diagnosed with a virus and
an ear infection a few weeks ago, and while I think I’m over them, I’m now feeling queasy a lot—”

Dr. Barnes’
phone trills, and she pulls it out and punches the keys to reply to it.

“
...it’s just that it’s been a whimsical month, at best,” I murmur pathetically.

Dr. Barnes narro
ws her perfectly arched brows. “No honeymoon period in newlywed land? I can hardly imagine that if you’re here,” she observes pretty accurately on a lifted brow, which helps breaks the ice.

Okay...I can do this.

My phone goes off again. It’s Chanell calling. I send it straight to voicemail.

I offer a light smile, a fortifying move on my part.
“I missed my pills for two days last month...about a week after the wedding. I hopped on a plane and forgot to pick them up before heading to the airport.” I shake my head. “I didn’t realize it until I was on the flight back home.”

“Okay,”
she gives a comforting nod as though she knows there’s more to come.

My phone sounds again. It’
s Azmir again. I’ve honestly been here way longer than I anticipated. I can’t continue to ignore my husband’s calls, especially when he’s out of town.

Just a few more minutes, A.D.

“And then I got sick about a week after. I was prescribed antibiotics. My admin assistant so happened to have walked in my office one day while I was taking one of the last pills and reminded me that the antibiotic can contravene birth control pills. And now I’m late...and sick.”

“Yes, their concomitant use causes the contraceptive to fail,” she affirms. “
What kind of symptoms, chica?”

“
Some that are not all that dissimilar to the ones I experienced last August. But then, just a few weeks ago, I was spotting. It wasn’t my usual flow, but enough for me to use tampons for about a day and a half,” I hint over.

“Ooooooh,”
Dr. Barnes recognizes my panic.

The phone in the exam room buzzes and her front desk person says she
’s needed for a code red in another room. Dr. Barnes goes into a cabinet and pulls out a plastic cup with a lid before strutting back towards to me.

“
Okay, Rayna,” she turns to me. “I have to respond to that. I’ll have Patti come in and collect your urine and go over some information with you while we wait on the results of your pregnancy test.” She pats me on the leg, “Don’t panic. I’m sure either way, that hunk of a man of yours will be just fine.” I’m hit with a waft of her, I’m sure, designer eau de toilette as she turns on her heels for the door. “And thanks for your patience with me today. This place has been a zoo,” she sighs just before closing the door.

My shoulders collapse. I think in a perfect world
, I was expecting her to tell me I was premature in my concerns. I can’t believe I’m taking a pregnancy test less than two months of being married!

I throw my sagging body off the table and saunter over to the en suite bathroom and do my duty. Once I
’m done and sitting back on the table, my mind starts racing with fear. Fear of losing him.
What if he thinks this was all a scheme to get to his money?
What if when he told me he wants kids he didn’t mean this soon? What if he’s changed his mind about wanting to be a father at all?
Would
he
leave
me
?

My phone goes off again. It’
s Chanell and this time I could use her trivial gossip as a distraction.

“Yeah, C?”

“
We been tryna’ call you for a mad long time, yo’!” I can hear tears in her voice.

“
What’s wrong?”

“
Divine hopped on a plane. He tried to call you before he took off. Kid got capped. It ain’t looking good, yo’,” Chanell shrieks and then I hear the pending cry. My mouth drops.

“I’
m so sorry, C. What can I do?”

She sniffles, “
Divine said meet him at home and don’t move ‘til he gets there, okay?”

I nod my head, bef
ore catching myself. She couldn’t see me. “O-okay, C. Please keep me posted.”

“A’ight, yo’. I gotta go. Wop just pulled up. We going to
check out dude now,” she advises before hanging up.

I jump off the table and pace the room. Azmir must be beside himself. I don’t know if this is a common occurrence in his other world, at least he’s never said. I don’t recall hearing about shootings or deaths this close to his circle. I will myself to stay and wait for Patti, but even she’s behind today. I eventually decide to get dressed so that I can make myself available for Azmir when he returns
from Arizona. I’ll just have to come back to sort this out later with Dr. Barnes.

~~~~~~~~~~

It isn’t until well after midnight
that Azmir gets home. As he saunters into the master suite he appears zombified, making his way to me. His shoulders don’t hold their usual grace and confidence. His head is dipped and not well supported by his neck. His eyes are heavy and haunted. My fearless, commanding mogul is visibly wretched. 

He
stands there for long seconds before saying, “I’m sorry. I’m sure you’ve heard about Kid’s death. I had to make sure to touch his family and talk to a few friends.”

I nod slowly. “Yes,
baby, I’ve heard. I’m so sorry,” I barely breathe out.

Chanell sent a text with the horrific news hours ago. I’m still in shock.
I can’t believe Kid’s dead.

I’m frozen, numb in fear. I don’t know if I can grab his long, solid frame into me the way that my arms itch to console him. I’ve never seen him so doleful.

“Is there anything I can do?” I feel like an idiot for uttering that, but I have to say something…offer something.

“I’m going to take a shower,” he mumbles before turning on his heels.

My heart constricts in my chest. A pang runs through my upper torso as I observe his desolate gate into the bathroom. Moments later, after I hear the shower running, I crawl from beneath the beddings and go into the bathroom. Our connection is so magnetic that being even in the next room feels inadequate. I see Azmir has doused his clothes into a pile on the floor. I quickly sweep them up and discard them appropriately to be laundered. Then I briskly skip into the walk-in closet to retrieve his favorite house attire: basketball shorts, white tank T-shirt and black ankle sox.

Once he’s done with his shower, I watch Azmir dry and clothe himself
, helplessly from the bench. Like the foolish woman I am, I even turn away while he’s indecent as to not give a second to ogling. His sheen, chocolate shell never fails to do things to me, even in my body’s mercurial state. I feel useless. I don’t know what to say or what to do.

We walk out into the master suite and climb into bed. I wait for Azmir to find his comfort before I snuggle behind him, roping my arm around his bubbled abdomen. Azmir audibly sucks in air and I can feel his body go rigid, but I plant myself against his long frame. I know this is unusual for him; I always stay to my side of the bed while sleeping unless he calls me over. But tonight is different. My big guy is hurting and it’s my job to console him, being what he needs when he needs me to be it.