Brandon is in our kitchen. Brandon is in my parent’s kitchen. With Ma. I am trying to stay calm after they forced me out of the kitchen but I can’t. What if Ma slaps him again but with the skillet? Shit. I place a hand over my rioting heart. Okay. She is not violent.

“Amahle.” I stop pacing at the sound of Pa’s voice. “Come.” He pats the empty spot on the couch, I shuffle to sit beside him. “Why are you worried?” he says. He thinks I’m overreacting but he is not aware Ma hit Brandon. I don’t want him to find out. “Tell me.”

A voice comes from the television, he reduces the volume and I hide a smile, he is still invested in the Saturday morning news. Folding my legs, I tug on the hem of my gown. I am on a mission to seduce Brandon. This morning ended with me on his chest; no sex.

Pa gawks at me, I realise I haven’t provided him with an answer. “I’m not.” A brow lifts, I sigh. I don’t know how they do it but he and Ma can see through my lies. “I am nervous on his behalf, they have never spent time together before now. What if she hates him?”

She probably does. I ruined his perfect, kind image for her. They burst into the parlour with trays in their hands and blinding smiles. I sit up, I ruined nothing. They drop the trays on the table, Brandon comes to pull me up while Ma does the same with Pa. The smile plastered on his lips should make me glad but it freaks me out. A bit. Okay, a lot.

Another look at him as he drags me to the dining and the knots tighten in my belly. He didn’t plan to stay the night but I am glad he did. If not, I would never have gotten this opportunity to watch him in my clothes. A blue short that fits him more than it does me, even the shirt. My eyes lower to his backside, I let out a low whistle. I need to tap that.

Tap what? I need to calm down. But I am not wrong, he is my husband and I can’t resist casting another glance at his buttocks. I have to admit, the shorts were made for him.

We settle into our seats, I take my rightful place beside a quiet Brandon while Ma and Pa sit opposite us. Their love is almost sickening to watch with the number of smiles they exchange in under one minute. She is like the air Pa breaths and Pa is like the oxygen Ma needs to survive. Brandon squeezes my leg, his mouth lowers to place a kiss on my neck.

“Are you okay?” he whispers and I nod. I want what my parents have, maybe more. I want it with Brandon. I want forever and a day with this stubborn man. “Are you sure?”

I stifle a laugh, I am sure. “I love you,” I say low enough for only him to hear and he pecks me. Before he has a chance to withdraw, I peck him soundly on the lips and giggle.

Ma raises her head, her gaze alternates between me and Brandon. She loosens up when I wink. Pa barely turns to us, his attention are on two things: Ma and the food. I like it that way, it allows me to steal kisses from Brandon whose hand is hanging on my knee.

A tantalising aroma floats into my nose once the tray opens, I inhale, appreciating the delicacy. Ma says, “Brandon cooked.” In our dialect, she asks, “Do you cook at all?”

“Barely.” She makes a face, I add in a poor accent, “He doesn’t mind. He loves cooking.”

The face she makes isn’t one of disapproval but jealousy. Pa cannot cook to save himself but he helps in the kitchen. He tells jokes Ma has heard a thousand times or chops the onions while she cooks. It works for them. Brandon’s warm hand slides up my leg, he bunches my gown to my midthigh and I cast him a furtive glance. What is he doing?

“Are you okay?” Ma asks when I whimper. I nod. Her eyes dart to Brandon wearing an innocent smile while his fingers near my arousal. I will kill him. “We should eat.” Her eyes twinkle. Am I obvious? I clear my throat and she smiles. “The food will get cold.”

Stretching her hands to me, I place mine in hers while Pa does the same with her right hand. Our hands form a caricature of a circle and she starts the grace before meals. Once we each have a plate of food before us, I step on Brandon’s socked foot and stifle a laugh at the deep scowl that etches onto his face. That’s what the brute gets for teasing me.

Breakfast is a blur, a fulfilling blur filled with laughter, harmless questions, jokes and exchange of my embarrassing childhood pictures. As soon as we walk into my room, I pin Brandon to the door and smother him with kisses. He was such a good son-in-law.

“You did great.” Jumping on him, his arms lock at my back. “I loved your food. Delicious.”

“What can I say? I am the best,” he says. I open my mouth to counter him, he shoves his tongue inside and my thoughts evaporate. Grinding my body on his, I kiss him harder.

We are on my bed in seconds, ripping each other’s clothes with an urgency that wasn’t present on our wedding night. One minute he is ramming into me, peppering kisses on my face, my neck, squeezing my breasts and the next minute, his sperm shoots inside my core and a hand clamps over my mouth to muffle my moans as I reach my orgasm.

He collapses on top of me, I welcome his partial weight. Weaving my fingers into his hair, I place a kiss on the top of his head. It feels like so long since I did that.

“No, wait. I like being inside you,” I cry out when he wants to switch position.

Without pulling out, he flips us so I am lying on top of him. “Like this?” he asks, adjusting under me. I nod. He pecks me, traces lines on my butt and a moan of content escapes me.

We stay that way, sweaty bodies merged, thoroughly spent and blissfully aware of our presences. He pushes the braids falling to my face to the side, my eyes flit to him and he beams. I smile at him, he brushes something on the corner of my lips. The action is so simple, innocuous yet my heart bounces so hard I fear it will break free from my chest.

“El, we need to clean up.”

Cleaning up means we have to separate, I don’t want to. We can stay this way forever, I don’t mind one bit, at least, not yet. “No,” I say in a childish voice. “Just a little longer.”

Light seeps in between the cracks of the curtains, creating thin lines on the bed. I trace the lines until Brandon laces our fingers. For the next moments, we enjoy the silence.

“Do you regret getting pregnant?” Brandon asks in a whisper. The thumping of my heart shows I didn’t hear wrong, slowly, I raise my head to his face and he shrugs. “Do you?”

“What? No.” Tears spring to my eyes, I release a shaky breath. I need to fix these water dams I call my eyes. Brandon’s finger tilts my face to him, I look away until I am certain the tears are under control. “Why would you ask or think that?” His brows furrow as he takes in the sight of my teary eyes and I sniff. “You are doing that thing. I don’t like it.”

The creases between his brows deepen, his worried gaze remains on me. “What thing?”

“That thing where you try to ruin the moment before reality does it for you, yeah,” I say. “Don’t do it.” He cackles, I frown. A corner of my mouth lifts as his head jerks in rhythm to the intensity of his taunting laughter. I flick a finger over his nose, he straightens up.

“You worry too much, wifey,” he says and I pout. I don’t protest when his hands lower to my waist, he lifts and lowers me on his growing erection. “I am not doing anything, I do not want to ruin the moment.” My throat dries up at his sheepish grin. “You wanted to get on the pills, remember?” I nod. Will the pills have changed anything? I am pregnant amid his efforts. “That’s why I asked, to know if you...” He shrugs. “Still want a baby.”

With a baby comes a lot of responsibilities, I might have to pause some of my plans for her. My body tingles at the thought of having a baby girl, I will have to give her a sibling. All the doubts dissolve, I can handle being a pregnant student. The baby should be born weeks after my graduation that’s if I decide to be in attendance. I don’t want everyone’s attention on my bump, the evil paparazzi will make me the subject of their headlines.

But Brandon will be there, I purse my lips, he is trying to be better. We can handle this.

“Yes, I want a baby. I want babies,” I add and he chuckles. “It is a bit too fast for us but I don’t regret it.” My heart skips a beat at his smile, I stare into his eyes. “You will be here, right? We are in this together. Babies are a lot of work, I don’t know how to handle them and I want to be as great a mother as Ma is. You cannot leave me to do the work myself.”

“I’m here,” he whispers. His arm circles my waist, I exhale and my head falls back to his chest. “We are in this together.” He strokes my back, my eyes close. “You are the kindest lady I know, I am sure you will be a great mother.” Pecking the top of my head, he says, “Your mother is a good woman. She raised a good daughter who will raise a good child.”

“Children,” I cut in. Brandon’s laughter eases my worries. “And you will be there too. We will raise good children together.” His hand curls into my hair, I whisper, “I love you.”

The curtain rustles, I look to the window, revelling in the protective bubble his words form around me. I will be a good mother. He will be a good father. We will be fine.

“You will be a great daddy,” I whisper.

Brandon flips me under him, holds my hands above my head. “Do you mean that?”

I make a criss-cross on my chest, he laughs and looks away. Maybe it is my imagination but his eyes gleam with tears. “I cross my heart. You will be a great daddy, Brandon.”

He buries his head in my chest, I ruffle his hair. “Are you ready to come home? I miss you.”