What Wifey Wants by Tina Martin

Author:Tina Martin
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: romantic suspense, womens fiction, black authors, african american romance, black romance, black lit
Publisher: Tina Martin

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 cramps. 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.

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