The Lawyers Redemption: Redeeming Honor

Exhaustion

Honor

I had everything ready by six. Any minute now, Greg should be walking into the house. I’ve lived here for two years now. When Greg asked me to move in, I was ecstatic. I saw it as a move in the right direction.

I met Greg when I was 19, and he was 25. I was in college at the University of Miami, or UM as we call it, for my Bachelor's in Fine Arts. I went to a house party with my roommates at Greg’s friend Brian’s house. We hit it off, he asked me to dinner, and the rest was history. I graduated early last Christmas and have just been doing my painting parties. I didn’t really need to work. I had a trust fund that my parents set up for me that I would get when I turned 25. But I also have my dad’s black card, so I could buy whatever I wanted. I just don’t take advantage of it. It’s there if I truly need it. But I don’t.

My paint party business is lucrative. I have my own money. I pay the utility bills for Greg’s house. It was my concession when he asked me to move in. He wouldn’t let me pay him rent. So, I said it’s the utility bills, or I don’t move in. He conceded. And really, besides this last month, our relationship was awesome.

The keys jingled in the door, so I took the casserole out of the oven and put it on the table just as the door opened.

“Hi, babe!” I said enthusiastically. I was so happy he was home on time.

He gave me a small smile. He looked so tired. I walked up to him and brushed my fingers over his brows, and then I cupped his cheeks and kissed him.

He dropped his keys, lunch bag, and briefcase on the floor and lifted me up.

I wrapped my legs around him, and he turned and pinned me to the door.

We made out for a couple of minutes, and then he pulled back and put his forehead to mine.

“God, I’ve missed you,” he said.

I melted. “I’ve missed you, too. You said you had a busy day?”

“Yeah, the client is a prick. I can’t tell you much, but just know if I ever cheat on you. You can have everything.”

“Oh, baby. I have every faith you’ll never cheat.”

“Damn right I won’t. I have the hottest chick in the universe, and she cooks like a dream. I smell enchilada casserole.”

I smiled. “Good nose,” I said.

He put me down. I told him to go sit, and I’d be there in a second. I picked up his keys and put them in the bowl by the door, picked up his bag and briefcase. I put his briefcase by the stairs so he could take it to his office, and brought his bag into the kitchen. He was pouring us some wine when I finally sat down. I dished his plate and then mine. We held hands and said grace, then dug in.

“How was your day?” he asked.

“Well, after I made that dress, I went to the grocery store, bumped into CeeCee and Josh, and then came home and made this and fried chicken for your lunch tomorrow.”

He groaned. “With potato salad?”

“You know it.”

“f**k, I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“So, you saw Josh?”

“Babe, he’s into guys.”

“Uh huh. And women, and he’s a man that looks like a buff ass biker with a hundred tattoos. He’s literally every woman’s walking fantasy.”

“Well, lucky for you, I like black men in suits that are ripped like Michael B. Jordan in Creed,” I said, taking a bite of my food.

He smirked and shook his head.

“You’re telling me if we weren’t together, you wouldn’t date Josh?”

“No, because I’m not into the lifestyle that he is.”

“Okay, so let’s just pretend he’s not into the poly lifestyle. Would you date him?”

I thought about it. Josh was freaking hot. But we didn’t have a lot in common. Sure, he’s a nice guy, but he’s all about motorcycles and tattoos. I like art and watching podcasts on VidTube like SHXTS N Gigs and funny ass videos from the Sidemen or Hermitcraft. I might f**k him, though.

“No, I would not date him. We have nothing in common. I doubt he would sit on a couch with me and watch the things I watch, as you do. He’d be outside working on his motorcycle, or sketching some tattoos.”

“You have art in common,” he said.

I looked at him, my brows furrowed. “But it isn’t the same thing as I do. He draws really well, but his stuff is dark and naughty. Mine is light and whimsical.”

“Still art.”

“Babe, are you trying to piss me off?”

“No, sorry, I’m just tired and irritable.”

We sat in silence, and we finished eating. I took his plate and went to the sink. I heard him sigh, and then he was behind me, putting his arms around me.

“I’m sorry, baby. Please, just ignore my attitude. I'm just stressed and out of sorts.”

I turned and wrapped my arms around his neck. I am 5'10", he is 6'3". We fit so well together. I kissed him, and he kissed me back. Our tongues caressing together.

“You’re forgiven. I’ll go run us a bath.”

“Perfect, I’ll go put my stuff away in my office.”

“Don’t start working, I’ve missed you, I really, really missed you,” I said, punctuating the really's with a peck.

“I promise I won’t.”

When I walked past him, he smacked my ass, making me yelp, and he chuckled.

I ran upstairs to our room and started our bath. Our tub was big, Greg had the bathroom gutted when he bought it, and he put in a really nice tub and a separate shower.

The tub had jets, and it was long and wide to fit his frame. We loved taking baths together.

I added some lavender oil and swished it around. I went back into our room, undressed, and then called out to him.

“Coming, baby doll,” he rumbled out from his office.

I went back into the bathroom and got into the tub. I turned the water off and sank into the water, groaning as the heat seeped into my muscles. It felt good.

“Scootch,” he said. I looked over as he walked in, and my mouth watered.

I wasn’t kidding when I said my man was ripped like Michael B. Jordan in Creed. Now I don’t know about Michael, but my man was also hung like a freaking horse, and my body craved every inch of him.

I scooted up, and he got in behind me. Once he was settled, I leaned back, and we both sighed as his arms came around me.

“Man, I needed this. Back-to-back meetings, digging through evidence, trying to find a way around s**t. My brain is just as tired as my body. Plus, I haven’t been able to hit the company gym like I usually do after work. The only reason I was able to come home early tonight is that the P.I. finally came through with something we can use in my case. Baby, if I can win this case, so my client doesn’t have to shell out an obscene amount of money to his wife, I’m a shoo-in for the Senior partner position, and then we will be set.”

His voice slurred. I knew the warm water was lulling him to sleep. I felt a little disappointed because I was hoping we could make love tonight, but he’s exhausted and probably wouldn’t be up to our usual acrobatics.

I just let him nod off as I thought about his words. He said we would be set. He knew I came from money, but like me, he wanted to make it on his own. I couldn’t keep the smile off my face. He was independent like me. He didn’t grow up in a loving family as I did. His father wasn’t in the picture. His mom drank and blamed her life on him and his little brother, Jameson. Jameson lived in Brooklyn and played basketball for the Nets.

I let Greg snore as the water cooled. Then I got up, and he jerked awake.

“Baby, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, babe. You’re tired, come on, let’s get you out. You need to sleep.”

“I should go look over some stuff before I go to bed,” he mumbled as he stood.

“No, Greg, you’re going to bed. A good ten hours will do you wonders.” I got a towel and dried off quickly, then turned it on him and dried him off myself. He was so tired that he barely helped me. I had to lift his arms to get all the water off him. Then I lotioned him up, and by the time I was done, he was dead to the world. He didn’t even stir as I rubbed all over him. I stood on the stool I have in the bathroom and brushed his hair. Then I got a little pomade, rubbed my hands together to soften it, and rubbed it in. I brushed his hair again, following his waves before putting his durag on.

Like a zombie, he followed me to the bed. He lay down, and I tucked him in.

“You’re the best, babe,” he mumbled. In thirty seconds, he was snoring. I smirked and kissed his forehead.

I went back to the bathroom, slathered myself in lotion. I dried and picked my hair, applied a little oil to my ends, and put on my silk turban. It was only eight o’clock. I did the dishes, then sat in front of the TV. I turned on some Hermitcraft and enjoyed watching GoodTimesWithScar wreak havoc.