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  “This is my favorite place to be, Makeena. Buried into the very depths of you. Do you know that?” he asks, taking a small kiss from my lips. “Do you?”

  “Yes, Royce,” I respond. “And I love you being here. It makes us so close…makes me love you so much more,” I say near tears.

  I know why I’m emotional. He knows it, too. That’s why he kisses my tears away and says, “There’s nothing on this earth that I want or love more than you.”

  And then he connects our mouths, finding my tongue, devouring it while he moves in slow motion on top of me, prolonging pleasure for the both of us. I try to free my hands so I can pull him closer to me but his left hand is wrapped around my wrists so tight, I can’t move. So I lie here and let him have me, control me and make love to me the way I so desperately need him to.

  My body shivers. I gasp. His tongue finds my opened mouth and fills it. He kisses me deeply and passionately while moving his body with skilled precision, driving me closer and closer. Oh does he know how to drive me insane with fevered passion. I wrap my legs around his thighs and hold on that way while at the same time, giving him more of me.

  He groans. He likes the feeling. He takes advantage.

  Rolling his body in a way that has my eyes rolling back inside of my head, he rocks steady until I squeeze him tight with my legs and quiver. “Oh, Royce. Royce. Royce!”

  My body breaks apart – the force so intense, I’m heaving for air. He groans and squeezes my wrists tighter. With his face buried in my neck, he releases a loud groan into the pillow. His body spasms. The magnitude draws everything out of him and when he’s able to think clearly again, he kisses me and lets go of my wrists. I wrap my arms around him and squeeze as tight as I can. My husband. My lover. My everything.

  Chapter 5

  Royce

  Royce walked in the office to clock in. It was becoming harder and harder to do, not because he was lazy. He was anything but. His problem was the routine of it all. For two months straight he’d gotten up every morning at six to get to work by seven-thirty to cut tree limbs and clean up branches. It wasn’t his type of work but he’d do it to support himself and Makeena.

  “Good morning, Royce,” Wendell, Sr. said.

  Royce glanced up at him. “Good morning, Sir.”

  “How are you?”

  “I’m doing well,” Royce said, leaning forward on the desk to clock in on the designated computer for employees.

  “Do you have a few minutes?” Wendell asked sitting up in his chair. “I need to talk to you.”

  “Is there a problem with my work?”

  “No, no. I just wanted to talk to you for a moment. Have a seat.”

  Royce sat down in a wooden chair, staring at the man he didn’t know well but respected. The man who was his boss and father-in-law.

  “How are you adjusting, Royce?”

  “To the job?” Royce questioned, seeking clarification.

  “Yes. The job and life here in Petersburg.”

  He shrugged massive shoulders. “It’s okay. Makeena’s happy. That’s all that matters to me.”

  “But are you happy?”

  Royce grimaced. “Am I happy?” he repeated.

  “Yes. Are you happy with this new life?”

  “I’m, uh…I’m conflicted. I love Makeena, but this sort of life—this normal way of living is something I’ve never experienced. Something I’m not accustomed to.”

  “So, you don’t like it.”

  “No. Not particularly.”

  Wendell pondered what Royce had admitted. “Then how do you go on from here?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, for starters, are you going to tell Makeena how you feel?”

  “No. I hadn’t planned on it,” Royce said.

  When another employee stepped inside to clock in, Royce looked at him, tilted his head and waited until the man was out of the office before he looked back at Wendell.

  “You’re going to have to say something to her about it. You can’t let something this major fester.”

  Shaking his head, Royce said, “I’m a good husband to Makeena and like I said, she’s happy. There’s no need to bring up any of this, and I would appreciate it if you would keep this between us.”

  “But you’re not happy, man, and I have no problem keeping this to myself because I’m not going to be the one to tell my daughter something she should be hearing from you. If you don’t tell her what’s going on, your unhappiness will begin to manifest itself in other ways and may come out in a way you didn’t intend.”

  Wendell paused giving Royce time to respond but he didn’t say a word.

  “In order to sustain a healthy marriage, you’re going to need good, effective communication—communication that’s open and honest. Trust me. I know. When Makeena was kidnapped all those years ago, me and my wife went through turmoil. To this day I don’t know how we made it through. But what I do know is, we kept the lines of communication open as best as we could. At times, they weren’t good lines per se, but we did the best we could.”

  “I know it must’ve been excruciating. She’s your daughter. I’ve known her a short time and I would die if anything ever happened to her.”

  “It was the hardest thing my family has ever had to endure,” Wendell said. “It’s still difficult to think about all that transpired…all the time that has passed.”

  Royce nodded. “I’m not the best at communicating but I try. I try for her. For Makeena. Everything I do is for her. I love your daughter, Wendell.”

  “And I have no doubts about that, son. I’m just asking you to talk to her.”

  “Okay. Maybe I will. I don’t know,” Royce said standing up. “Was there anything else?”

  “No. Keep up the good work though. You’re doing an excellent job around here.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Hey, I’ll see you at dinner on Sunday, right?”

  “Sure. I’ll be there.”

  Chapter 6

  Makeena

  I take out our finest plates because Royce is going to be home at any minute now. I’ve come to enjoy doing this wifely stuff – fulfilling the kind of chores Gertrude trained me to do. I hate what she did to me, but the woman sure taught me how to cater to a man. In everything. I’m glad that man is Royce.

  I smile when I hear him at the door, anxious for him to taste the meal that I’ve spent hours cooking – baked Swiss chicken casserole with collard greens on the side and sweetened cornbread.

  When he steps inside, I say “Hey, babe. Dinner’s almost ready.”

  “Okay. I’ll be there in a minute. Let me take a quick shower first. Be right back.”

  I sit at the table alone waiting for him to join me. His usual quick shower is about twenty minutes long, but here I sit thirty minutes later and he still isn’t ready for dinner. I get up from the table, head down the hallway to see what’s taking him so long. I find him sitting on the bed, in deep thought. He’s dressed. Freshly showered.

  I continue inside and sit next to him, taking his left hand and threading his fingers to mine.

  He looks at me. His eyes roam my face – my lips nose and eyes before he turns away.

  “What’s wrong, Royce?”

  “I just had a long day,” he replies. “That’s all.”

  “Royce, I know it’s more than that. Something with you has been off for a while now. Please talk to me.”

  He blows a steady breath. “Makeena, I’ll be in the kitchen in a minute.”

  “Royce—”

  “Just give me a minute,” he says in a slightly elevated tone.

  “It’s been thirty, going on forty minutes now. Talk to me. The food is cold, anyway.”

  “I just need time to think, Makeena.”

  “About what?”

  “About me. About us. About what I’m doing here.”

  “A-about,” I say so faintly, I doubt if he can hear me. I lean forward when the knots in my stomach become as painful as cr
amps. I knew something was bothering him, but I didn’t expect it would be this. “You—you don’t know what you’re doing here?” I ask, trying my best to keep whatever composure I have left.

  “Makeena, I love you. You know that, don’t you?”

  I look at him, but can’t bring myself to say a word. My throat hurts from holding in hurt and trying to withhold tears.

  “Don’t you?” he asks with raised eyebrows.

  “Just say what you have to say, Royce. You don’t have to butter me up.”

  “I’m not buttering you up. I’m just telling you that I love you. I want to preface what I’m about to say so you know how I feel about you. So there’s no question.” He stands, holds his head in angst and paces the floor. “I don’t know what I’m doing here.”

  “Here, as in Petersburg? With me?” I question.

  “Yes. This is not who I am, Keena. I don’t know how to be somebody’s husband.”

  “Somebody’s husband?”

  “Okay. Your husband. I don’t know how to play this role. I’m having a hard time settling into this mundane life.”

  Mundane life…

  “But this is your life now.”

  “It is.”

  “And you are my husband.”

  “I am.”

  “Are you saying you don’t want to be?” I ask while tears fall from my eyes.

  “No. That’s not what I’m saying at all. What I’m trying to say is, this type of lifestyle is one I’m unfamiliar with. I don’t feel like I’m cut out for this sort of thing.”

  “Then why did you move here, Royce?”

  He sits down again. “I moved here because I love you.”

  “Well, apparently, love isn’t enough when you’re not happy,” I say. I wipe my eyes. I can’t take it anymore. I stand up and run into the bathroom in tears, fearing the man I love doesn’t love me as much as he claimed to. Otherwise, why would this be an issue?

  “Makeena, open the door, baby,” Royce says as he knocks.

  “Just go, Royce. You don’t want to be here anyway, so go.”

  “That’s not what I said.”

  “It is what you said. I heard you loud and clear. You don’t want to be here so go.” He doesn’t respond to me this time so I’m not sure if he’s still standing behind the door, waiting for me to come out or if he took my advice and left. And I’m too distraught at this point to even think about leaving the bathroom. So I stay, sob, cry and hold my stomach until I can get myself together.

  Chapter 7

  Makeena

  By the time I get myself together enough to emerge from the bathroom – roughly an hour later – Royce is gone. With puffy eyes and a reddened nose, I walk to the kitchen to discover that Royce hasn’t touched his food. Our plates are still made – cold and all – sitting on the table. Untouched.

  I glance outside to see that Royce’s car isn’t in the driveway. He’s gone. I should feel relieved since, after his admission, I could use some space right now, but at the same time, I feel like I need him near me. I sigh, leaning against the front door. What now?

  I can’t help but wonder if it was something I did or didn’t do to make him feel this way. Or did he just not want me anymore. Did he miss his old life that much – his work of rescuing people – that he’d be willing to leave me to go back to that lifestyle?

  When hours pass and I realize he’s not coming home, I go to bed, worried and all – about him and our relationship. He needs time to think, and if it takes this much time, then I feel like his decision won’t be in my favor.

  The next day, Sunday, he still doesn’t show up. And now, even at our family dinner, he doesn’t show. We’re all sitting around the dining room table at my parent’s house – Wendell, Jr., Dad, Mom and Meghan – but there’s no Royce. Now the family is going to be asking me questions regarding his whereabouts. Why wouldn’t they? They love Royce and has taken him in like a member of the family. He is a member of the family, my husband, and my parents will forever see him as the man who rescued me.

  “Makeena, will Royce be joining us?” mom asks.

  And so it begins…

  “I don’t know,” I reply, refusing to make eye contact with anyone. I glance down at my phone to check for missed calls. There are none from Royce or anyone else.

  “Oh,” she says. “Is he sick or something?”

  “No, Ma,” I tell her. It still feels weird calling her Ma, or any other variation of mother, but I’m trying. “No. He’s not sick.”

  “Well, where he at?” Meghan chimes in then bites into a pork chop.

  “Um—” I say, stalling for time. I have no idea what to tell her or the rest of them.

  Luckily, I have an observant father who recognizes how flustered I am and says, “Let’s just enjoy dinner.” In essence, he’s telling everyone to chill out and leave me alone. I feel relieved. Then I glance up at my brother, watching his frown grow. I’m not sure if he’s upset with me or if Royce’s absence has him irritated.

  “Makeena, how do you like it here?” dad asks. “Do you like living here in Petersburg?”

  This line of questioning isn’t new. He’s asked me this before, like two weeks after I moved here. So him asking me now tells me he knows something about Royce’s issues. I should’ve taken Wendell Jr.’s advice and talked to my father about Royce’s issues. Maybe then, the conversation would’ve been a lot easier.

  “Yes. I like it here, Dad. I told you I did. I always wanted a family and when I realized I had one, I wanted nothing other than to meet all of you and stay here and get to know you and everyone else.”

  “Aw, so sweet,” Meghan says.

  I glance up at mom, watching her smile.

  “Well, we wanted to meet you, too,” she says. “So many years went by when we didn’t know if you were dead or alive. We’re lucky to have you here with us.”

  I look at Wendell, Jr. I told him how mom always brings up the past, the kidnapping and all the trauma they had to endure. He admonished me to change the subject whenever she did it again. Now, he sees for himself just how difficult that is.

  I attempt to eat even though I feel like puking right about now. I still have no idea where Royce has run off to, but I know one thing – for him to not show up for dinner says a lot. He’s never missed a family dinner. This evening, he was missing in action.

  “Makeena, can you help me with dessert?” mom asks.

  “Sure,” I say, eager to get up from the table following her to the kitchen.

  Mom takes a knife from the drawer and uncovers a chocolate-coconut cake.

  “You know it’s probably overwhelming for him,” she says. “This is new to Royce. He told us all about his work and a man who’s high-strung like that, dear, will have a difficult time living the kind of life we live. I’ve watched him sit at dinner and twiddle his fingers. It’s boring to him.”

  “Don’t think that, Ma. Royce likes being here with my family.”

  “I know he does. That’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying it’s difficult. A man with all those huge muscles like that needs to put those muscles to good use. Right now, he’s not.”

  “He is. You don’t think he’s using those muscles working with Dad?”

  “He is, just not in the capacity that he wants to use them.”

  “So does that warrants him leaving me?”

  “Leaving you?” mom asked, eyebrows raised.

  “Well, not leaving for good,” I say, backpedaling.

  “Nah, you done said it now. Go ahead and tell me what’s going on, Makeena.”

  “Okay. He left last night and I haven’t seen or heard from him since. I don’t know if he’s coming back. That’s the part that scares me.”

  Mom grins. “No need to worry, baby. He’s coming back.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  With a long, sharp knife, she begins slicing the cake. “Honey, let me tell you something about a man – a man knows when he’s got a good thing. Royce might b
e struggling, but he ain’t crazy. He’ll be back for you.”

  “You think so?”

  “I know so.”

  “So, in the meantime, what do I do? I don’t have a job. He’s the one working. Maybe I need to get a job. I need to support myself.”

  “You’re panicking,” mom says, touching Makeena’s forearm. “He’ll be back.”

  Later when I arrive back home, I see Royce’s car in the driveway.

  He’s back, just like mother said he would be.

  I sit in the car for a moment, trying to prepare myself for what he’s going to say. What if he wants to move back to Norfolk? What if he wants to give up his job and end our marriage to go chasing excitement?

  I sigh.

  There was only one way to find out. When I enter the house, I see Royce sitting on the sofa with his elbows resting on this thighs. His fingers are interlocked like he was anticipating my arrival, ready to talk to me.

  He looks at me. We lock eyes.

  He doesn’t say a word. Just stares like he’s found himself in a conundrum.

  I couldn’t bring myself to say anything either, so I continue on to the bedroom, step out of my shoes and sit down and sigh. The tension is back – similar to the feeling of when we’d first lived together on the base in Norfolk.

  “Hi.”

  I turn to the door, to the sound of his voice and watch him perch up there. “Hi,” I reply, standing up. “I was just about to take a shower and get ready for bed, so…”

  He crosses the floor over to me. “Can we talk for a minute?”

  “No. I’m in no mood for talking right now, Royce.”

  “Makeena, wait.” He touches my arm.

  “Royce, I know you don’t want to be here, okay, so—”

  “I do want to be here. I love you, Makeena.”

  I cross my arms. “But you didn’t love me enough to come home last night.”

  “Because I needed time to think.”

  “To think about whether or not you wanted me. I get it, Royce. You didn’t ask for any of this. You were doing a job and somewhere in between, you got entangled with me. While you were thinking about what your next move would be, I was thinking about mine. If you’re not happy, and I know you’re not, then I don’t want you to be here, Royce. I won’t be that selfish where I would make you stay somewhere you don’t want to be. And I definitely don’t want you to be here out of any sort of obligation to me. You don’t owe me your loyalty. It’s not like you sought me out to love. The only reason you love me is because I loved you first. Because you got too close to a subject—”