MARCUS

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Gritting my teeth, I pull into the driveway and put the car into park. My hands grip the steering wheel, my muscles flexing under the applied pressure, before I release the death grip I have on it and loosen my tie.

I sit there for a moment, breathing out in slow, controlled breaths, trying to let go of the anger simmering in my chest. But it's not working.

I pull out my phone, my fingers already typing before I can think twice. I'm too pissed to let this slide, and Tamara needs to understand her place.

Me: Yo. Yuh know say yuh fuck up today, don't? 🤔

After hitting 'send', I recline in my seat and wait. I don't know if she'll respond for now, as she left the office in a hurry this evening, but mi affi get it offa mi chest. She'll respond whenever she sees it.

Surprisingly, the three dots appear on the screen almost immediately, then stop, then start again. I tap my fingers on the steering wheel, jaws tight, and wait for her response to come through.

And she better nuh come wid di bullshit. Oh.

Tam Tam: With? 👀

I know she knows full well what I'm talking about, but I decide to humour her so called naivety.

Me: Wah kinda stunt that yuh pull?

Tam Tam: Marcus, plz don't start.

Eeeh?

Aweh yuh nawh say?

Mi ago start it eno. Start it yuh fuck.

Me: Don't start what? You had no right to barge in like that, Tamara. Especially when yuh know say Nadine was there. Tf. What were you even thinking?

Tam Tam: Sigh. I just needed to talk to you about the presentation, Marcus. Didn't think it'd be an issue.

So she had all the time in the world to discuss presentation, but a when mi wife come look fi mi, she felt was the perfect opportunity? Fuck off wid that!

I scoff, rolling my eyes at the phone. She knew exactly what she was doing. And she and I both know it had nothing to do with the fucking presentation.

Me: Don't play dumb, Tamara. You and I both know that wasn't about the presentation. You showed up to make a point.

The dots appear immediately this time, almost like she's been waiting for the moment to push back.

Tam Tam: What point, exactly? That I wanted to actually get work done?

I scoff bitterly.

Then tha 'B' yah really swear mi born under bloodclaat hog balls?

A must so to bomborassclaat.

I shake my head at the thought. This is what she does, always turning things around, twisting them to make it look like she's fucking innocent. When she likkle and spiteful nuh fuck.

It's like she wants me to snap, to say something I can't take back. But not tonight; I'm not letting her off that easily. Neither am I letting it slide.

She pass her place pulling a stunt like that. Big time. And when dem reach them stage deh, yuh affi reel them back in before they go too far.

Mi talk to her bout this already but it come like she nawh hear.

Me: The point is, the presentation could've waited. You're not to barge in like that, ever again, especially not when Nadine's there. We talked bout this already. Yuh forgot?

Tam Tam: Didn't realize I needed permission or to set an appointment to see my boss.🤔

Jah Jah!

Yuh see why man cyaa tek the fuckry sometime!?

Jah know.

My jaws tick and my nostrils flare.

Me: Yo, stop gwaan like mi a fucking idiot nuh woman. Or mi nuh know wah mi a chat say. You had no right showing up in my office like you did, after we done establish say Nadine in deh, a just that mi a try say! Point blank.

Tam Tam: A this yuh really text mi phone bout, sir? Yuh know say mi deh pon my own time now, right? I don't have to entertain you and your crap until 9 am tomorrow. So chill. Kmft.

But a wah di--

I feel my temper flare, and I close my eyes, breathing out slowly. She's pushing me, acting like she doesn't know exactly why I'm mad. But we both know better.

We both know the real issue here: her flirting with Jones, after work, in my fucking face is a major part, but I'll hold the part I can actually control above her head, and that's the fact that she breached a boundary with Nadine today.

As fucked up as it makes me seem.

With clenched teeth, I start typing again, making sure my words are crystal clear.

Me: You crossed a line. I'm telling you now, Tamara, don't pull a stunt like that again. Else we ago have serious issues. Yuzeet.

She doesn't respond immediately and I inhale a nervous breath, only releasing it once my phone chimes.

Tam Tam: Alright, Marcus. I hear you. 🙄

That's better.

Look how pussyclaat long.

But she's not through. The dots appear once more, hesitating like she's searching for the right words to push me even further. And, as expected, she finds them.

Tam Tam: Btw, does your precious Nadine know you're out here being her public defender? Aww. #husbandoftheyear

I hiss my teeth so loudly, it echoes around the empty car.

Me: Yo. Don't play wid mi.

Tamara of all persons know not to fuck with me, so mi nuh know wah she a try prove right now eno.

I don't even have to wait long for her response. The dots appear almost immediately, and for a second, I think she might be ready to apologize. But no, Tamara doesn't back down.

She'd always been fiesty. And that's one thing that drew me to her in the first place.

Tam Tam: How am I playing with you now, Mr Blackwell? Please enlighten my darkness. Plz.

Tam Tam: Since you wanna text my phone bout foolishness, I can make the time.

I chuckle lowly, but it's dry.
Yo, why mi even a do this? Why mi even a entertain this back and forth? When mi done know she stubborn as fuck and don't take accountability unless it suits her.

Regardless, I push back.

Me: How uno woman so bloodclaat spiteful. Yuh nuh know wah yuh do wrong all now? A that yawh try tell mi?

I'm tempted to add the bit about Jones, but I restrain myself. That's for another time.

There's a long pause, and I can almost picture her sitting there, phone in hand, weighing how far she wants to push this. When her reply finally comes, it's as calculated as ever.

Tam Tam: I'm not sure what you're implying. Last time I checked, I was doing what I'm being paid to do.

Tam Tam: Should I ask your permission to do my job from now on as well? 😏

The audacity of her words hits me like a slap, and I feel my teeth clench involuntarily. She's twisting this, trying to make me look like I'm the one overreacting. But I'm not falling for it. Not tonight.

Me: Permission? This isn't about permission. This is about respect, Tamara. Showing up unannounced like that, knowing Nadine was in there, was out of line. Simple.

Tam Tam: OK, yuh know wah...Look, I'm sorry if you felt uncomfortable. That wasn't my intention.

'If you felt uncomfortable'. Den mi rassclaat...

I can practically see her smirk, hear the fake innocence in her words. And it pisses me off even further. She's not sorry; she's just playing in my pussyclaat face at this point, acting oblivious; like she didn't see the exact look on Nadine's face when she walked in.

I've had enough of this shit. It has been a long day and Tamara just a add to my annoyance.

Me: Again, this is your one warning. Don't pull a stunt like that again, or we're going to have a serious issue.

Tell yuh already but it come like yuh tek it fi gimmicks.

Nawh wile yuh...

Tam Tam: Understood. Loud and clear, Marcus. But I have to say, it's a shame we can't handle this more professionally. I thought we were better than this.

So how yuh understand when yuh claim yuh nuh do noth'n wrong? Tek mi fi rassclaat idiot?

Ah.

I reread her text.

Her words acting like fuel to my fire.

A "professional" she really just make her mouth say?

Wah bout none a this professional?

Wah did professional when she a skin out the pussy gimme pon work hours.

Wah did professional when she a suck mi cocky under mi desk?

Wah did professional when she a beg mi fi breed her?

Suck yuh madda bout 'keep things "professional"'.

I hiss my teeth so loudly, it almost deafs me.

"Professional" was the last thing on her mind when she sauntered into that office, acting like she owned the place, like she had something to prove. She knew exactly how it would look to Nadine--and, judging by the smug look she wore when she left, she got exactly the reaction she was hoping for.

Thank God it was one of those days when Nads either didn't have the energy to press me about it, or she just didn't care enough to. Yet.

I shake my head, the grip on my phone tightening, every instinct in me screaming to let her have it, to lay out every thought I've held back these past few months.

But I'm too familiar with her game to fall into her trap.

She's waiting, hoping I'll cross a line so she can throw it back in my face.

So I type out a final message, short and simple.

Me: Stay in your lane, Tamara.

I watch as the three dots appear, hesitate, then disappear altogether. She's done, and so am I.

I finally slip the phone back into my pocket and step out of the car, taking a deep breath of the cool night air, letting it calm me down.

My eyes drift to the kitchen window and my heart skips a beat when I see Nadine standing there, staring at me.

Fuck!

Plastering a controlled smile on my face, I move off and up the driveway.

But as I walk up the pebbled pathway toward the front door, I can't shake this uneasy feeling which settles over me.

I'm going to have to figure out a way to keep my work and personal life separate, to make sure Tamara understands her place. Before she fucks things up.

Because if today proved anything, it's that she's unpredictable.

And that's never a good thing.

"Babes?" I call when I step inside the entry way, pushing the door closed behind me.

Nadine comes into view, looking as radiant as ever.

I smirk when I take in her attire: she's wearing the mesh night gown I love.

"Goodnight, baby," I walk up to her, placing a kiss on her soft lips. My cock stirs.

"Good night," she returns with a smile.

"Where are the kids?"

"Sleeping."

"Already?"

"Yeah. Dem tired. Thank God," she says with a laugh.

Know di feeling.

My smirk deepens. "That mean dem good then."

Nadine nods, peering up at me.

Dropping my attache case, I pull her into a hug, gripping her fat ass cheeks and giving them a light squeeze. "And my beautiful wife? She good too?"

This makes her roll her eyes, playfully. And the tension I felt before immediately eases.

"How about you? You good?"

"Waffi tappi?" I tease, pecking her lips.

"Mi nuh know. You looked tense. You were out in the car for a while. Mi almost come out deh come check pon yuh."

My shoulders tense, but I shrug it off. "No sah. Mi good, man. Just did a tie up some loose ends 'bout the work. Yuzeet. Noth'n too big."

"OK, Mr Workaholic." She pinches my arm and grin. "So that mean yuh free now then, right?"

"Like a bird," I match her energy. "How yawh check up so? Yuh plan fi gimme sum'n?"

"Fuck off!" she sasses, pulling out of my arm, causing a raucous laugh to jump out of my mouth.

When I sober up, my smirk returns. "Wah that mean? Yes?"

"Move!" she hisses, walking back to the kitchen.

I follow behind her, watching her ass jiggle.

I bite my lower lip.

Sexy nuh fuck.

Might just cock her up in deh. Mek she gwaan test mi faith.

Oh.

°°°

NADINE
~Pronounced: Nay-Deen~

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I take one last look in the mirror, smoothing the deep emerald dress over my hips.

It's been a while since we've gone somewhere this fancy, but Marcus insisted, so I decided why not dress the part. The dress hugs my body in all the right places, the neckline dipping low enough to catch his attention without revealing too much.

Sexy yet tasteful. My speed.

My fingers linger at my collarbone, tracing the edge of the necklace Marcus gave me last year for our fourth anniversary.

I sigh, although I can feel the excitement humming through me; the kind of anticipation I used to get when we first started dating.

The thought brings me a sense of nostalgia.

A smile spreads my lips as I look at the woman before me who smiles back. But I quickly gather myself.

Knowing that if we don't leave now, we'll be late for our reservation, I grab my clutch and head downstairs, where Marcus should be waiting. He'd got back from dropping the kids off at Sim's a short while ago and surprisingly still managed to get ready before me.

Shame.

As I head downstairs, I hear Marcus before I see him--the faint sound of his shoes on the hardwood, the soft jangle of his keys. When I step into the living room, he's by the door, checking his phone.

He looks up when he hears me, and the shift in his expression almost catches me off guard. His eyes sweep over me, and for a moment, it's like he can't find the words.

His smile--slow and appreciative--brings that familiar warmth I almost forgot I missed.

"Wow," he finally says, his voice low, almost reverent. "You look...sexy nuh fuck."

I smile, feeling like a giddy teenager all over again. "Not so bad yourself, Mr. Blackwell," I reply, my tone teasing, glancing at his dark suit. It's tailored perfectly to his broad shoulders, and the way he left his tie slightly undone heightens that effortless edge he's always had.

The look he gives me causes an intense pulse to settle between my legs. I blush. "Stop...!"

I don't have to elaborate as he knows what he's guilty of.

Marcus smirks, simply shrugging off my accusation. "All set?"

I do a quick tick off of my mental checklist.

"Yup."

"After you, Mrs Blackwell." His grin widens, and he walks over, brushing his hand lightly against my back as he leads me outside.

It's such a small touch, but I feel it--and it's funny how even after all this while, something as simple as a hand on my back can affect me as much as it does.

It reminds me of when things were easier.

He opens my door for me and I climb in saying a blushful, "Thank you," as I slide into the passenger seat.

Princess treatment? I giggle beneath my breath at the thought, watching babe, through the windscreen, as he runs around to the driver's side and gets in.

"Ready?" he asks with a smile as he pushes the button to start the car.

"Like Freddy." I match his smile and he chuckles. It's deep and refreshing to hear.

The drive to the restaurant is quiet, but not uncomfortable. For the most part. Marcus has his one hand on the steering wheel, his thumb tapping absentmindedly to the beat of the slow R&B playing softly through the speakers, while his other hand is draped across the back of my seat.

I hum along with the tune whenever the songs I like come on, making Marcus glance at me every time I do so.

Although I don't say it aloud, I feel like there's this unspoken tension between us though. I can tell we're both trying to act like our natural selves around each other, but it's as if we're walking on eggshells, still.

There's no denying the strain of trying to manoeuvre the distance we've let grown between us over the past few months. Try as we may.

Sigh.

I glance at him, wondering if he's thinking the same things I am. But his face is hard to read. As always.

It almost feels like we've become strangers in our own relationship.

And, no, it's not like we've fallen out of love; it's just that life got in the way. Kids, work, the hustle and bustle of our daily grind--somehow, we forgot to make time for us amidst the chaos.

And now we're reaping the fruits of the seeds we've sown. Double sigh.

Pushing the thought behind me, before it can drain my mood any further, I turn up the volume on the radio as one of Chris Brown's songs comes on.

. . .

As we pull up to the restaurant, I feel a nervous flutter in my stomach. It's the kind of place where the waiters wear white gloves, and the sound of silverware is muted under the soft hum of instrumentals and light conversation.

Definitely catering only to the one percent. Boujie.

With that thought in mind, I pull down the visor and do a final touch up of my makeup.

When I'm through, it's Marcus who gets out first, coming around to open my door. It's a small gesture, but it feels like a throwback to the early days of our relationship when he used to do these things without thinking.

"Such a gentleman," I tease, stepping out of the car.

He laughs softly, shaking his head. "Nuh do mi that, babes. I still remember how to treat a lady."

Aw.

"You better," I tease as we walk up to the entrance of the building.

The maître d' greets us with a smile, leading us to a quiet corner of the restaurant, after confirming our reservation.

The lighting is dim, casting a warm glow over the table, and for a second, I feel like we've been transported back a few years.

The ambiance was the first thing to pull me in as I stepped through the doors. It's a mix between vintage and elegance --the kind of place where everything feels intimate, almost like the world outside doesn't exist for a couple of hours. Or however long you choose to stay inside.

Marcus pulls out my chair, and I sit down, smoothing my dress as I glance around the restaurant. It's not crowded and imposing, but I guess that's probably because it's not too prevalent in the media, so not many people know about it. I too, before a couple minutes ago, had no idea a place like this existed.

But I'm glad I do now.

"I wasn't expecting anything this fancy," I say, raising an eyebrow at Marcus as he takes his seat across from me.

Oh! I forgot to mention, he didn't go with the restaurant I'd suggested when I first posed the date idea to him. He insisted he wanted to surprise me, and I'd be damned if I don't admit that I'm pleasantly surprised.

"Told you I got this," he says and smiles, picking up the menu as the waiter sets them down before us.

"I guess you did," I mutter beneath my breath, picking up my phone and checking to see if I got any messages from Sim.

I miss my babies.

. . .

I sit across from Marcus, trying to ignore the weirdness of being here-just the two of us.

It feels almost like a first date, which is strange considering we've been together for years.

It has been so long since I've been anywhere outside of outings with just the kids, except for cases where I'm on business, that I don't know how to act.

Fidgeting with my phone, as I wait for Simone's reply to my text, my eyes take in my surroundings.

The restaurant is cozy, low-lit with a soft buzz of chatter around us. It's nice, really, but I still feel a bit on edge.

And I don't understand why.

My eyes land back on Marcus whose head is buried in the booklet in his hand, focused on it like it's a business report he's analyzing. I watch him for a moment--his brows furrowed, jaws tight. He never seems to switch off.

Sigh.

He looks up from his menu and catches my gaze, a slight smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

My heart skips a beat.

"Yuh alright?" he asks, his voice gentle, eyes studying me.

"Yeah," I reply, offering a small smile. "Just...a think."

"About?"

I shrug. "Mi nuh know. Everything and nothing."

"Nervous?"

Admittedly, my nerves are all over the place, and I can tell he knows by his tone and the way he's assessing me.

Regardless, I shrug it off. "Nervous? No sah. Nervous fi wah?"

Lie.

He smirks. "Yeah? Sure. Because a my leg a bounce up and dung fi di past five minutes."

I glance down, realizing I've been jiggling my knee under the table. I force it to stop, chuckling. "Alright, yuh catch mi. Maybe I'm a tad bit nervous. Just a tad though."

"Why?" He leans back, folding his arms. "It's just dinner."

"Yeah, dinner," I say, nodding slowly. "Something wi hardly get to do together anymore."

He exhales, his eyes softening. "Babe..."

"No, mi nuh mean nothing by it eno. Mi just a say."

Also a lie.

His jaws tick, and I know he's about to get in his feeling.

Deciding to change the subject, I clear my throat and ask, "Where'd you find this place?"

Straightening his posture, Marcus loosens his tie and sighs. "I've had a few work meetings here."

O...K. I pick up the menu and open it, my eyes almost bulging at the prices they land on. "Babe, isn't this place...like...super expensive though?"

It's not like I've ever had to worry about money with Marcus, but that doesn't mean I want to squander it. Unnecessarily.

Because God bless the likkle much weh dem ago bring out pon plate come giwi fi wi money. Dem breed a money yah as a matter of fact.

He shrugs, his brown eyes sparkling in the candlelight. "Figured we deserved a little upgrade. We don't do this often enough."

I can't argue with that. "We really don't," I murmur, reaching for the glass of water in front of me and taking a sip. "Between the kids and everything else, I almost forgot what it's like to just...be us."

Preach!

And don't get me wrong, I'm not short of anything material. My man ensures that.

However!

While Marcus is the type to spoil me with gifts, because of his work load, we don't get to go out much.

If any at all, at times.

Marcus looks at me, his expression softening. "Yeah... I've missed this too." He pauses, tapping the edge of the menu before setting it down, his gaze locking onto mine. "But I've missed you, more."

The way he says that is as if I've been millions of miles away and not beside him in the same house, in the same bed, every night.

Although, admittedly, in reality, it feels like the opposite. We're like strangers living in the same house. Have been for months. So, I guess I understand where he's coming from. And I'm ashamed to admit it.

There's a weight in his voice that makes me stop flipping through the menu. I look at him, really look, and, behind his confident exterior, I can see the tiredness in his eyes, the way his shoulders sag just a little, and his forehead creases into a fold.

He's still handsome, regardless.

As a sexy body, top man a road...! Purr.

I pause, letting his words sink in. It's hard to admit, but I've missed him too- -missed 'us'. At least the version of us that laughed easily, that touched without hesitation, because we couldn't get enough of each other, that didn't need these fancy nights to feel close.

"I've missed you too," I admit, my voice quieter than I intended. "And that's a shame. It's just...I don't know. It feels like we've been living side by side, but not really together, you know?"

Might as well get it off my chest.

"Like...are we really good?" I add.

He looks up at me, confused. "What yuh mean? Why yuh ask dat?"

I hold his gaze, my heart starting to beat a little faster. I hadn't planned on having this conversation tonight, but, as I said, I need to get it off my chest. And it's now or never. "It just feels different lately. Like...mi nuh know. Like we're not connecting di way we used to."

Marcus frowns, sitting up straighter. "Nads, mi nuh know wah yuh a talk 'bout. Wi alright. Apart from the fact say work a keep mi busy and t'ing, we good."

I sigh, trying to put into words the nagging feeling that's been sitting with me for a while now. "Yeah, mi know yuh a work hard, boo. And I'm grateful for that, as I always tell you. But even when yuh deh home, it feels like yuh not really there, sometimes. Like yuh a drift or sum'n."

"Drift?" Marcus leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. "Babes, mi nah drift. What the fuck? Yuh know mi always a try fi provide fi wi family. Yuh know di pressure mi under. Wah yuh mean by that?"

I nod, because I do understand that much. But still... "It's more than that, Marcus. I just...I guess I'm trying to say: I miss how we used to be. Tell mi say yuh nuh feel the difference too!"

He looks down at the table, exhaling through his nose like he's trying to find the right words. "Nads, life change. Wi get older now. Wi married, wi have kids. Of course noth'n naggo stay di same forever."

That's not what I mean...but...

"I know," I say quickly, not wanting him to think I don't appreciate the life we've built together. "But I wonder sometimes...do you ever regret it? Like, yuh ever feel like we rushed into all of this?"

And before you go there, of course I don't regret my kids. I love them more than anything else in this world! It's just something that I find myself thinking about every now and again.

He narrows his eyes slightly, like I've touched a nerve. "Babe, weh yawh say to mi? Yawh say a suh yuh feel?"

I hesitate, my fingers tracing the rim of my glass. "Not really. Although, sometimes, admittedly, I wonder if you would've been happier if we had waited. If we didn't settle down so young."

Marcus stares at me for a moment, as if processing what I said. He then clears his throat and sighs. "Nads, mi nah go lie; marriage hard. Yuh fuck. Di kids, everything--it's rough sometimes. But mi nuh regret nothin', babe. You a mi wife, mi choose yuh every fucking day, even di days dem weh hard. So mi cyaa understand how yuh fi a pree that."

I feel a slight tightness in my chest. I wasn't expecting such an honest answer.

I lean back in my chair, searching his face for any sign of insincerity. "Babe, anno say mi a pree it nuh way. I'm genuinely curious. And it doesn't hurt to wonder. It's like...yuh don't miss di freedom? Mi mean... look at your friends. They're still out there living, partying, traveling, no responsibilities--"

"Miss it?" he repeats, cutting me off, shaking his head slowly. "Baby girl, there's a difference between big man and bwoy eno."

I swallow hard, my throat suddenly dry. "I just want to make sure yuh happy, Marcus. That's all. Mi nuh want yuh to feel trapped because of mi."

He looks at me seriously now, no trace of the usual humour in his eyes. "Nads, mi nuh feel trapped. Mi tired sometimes, yes, but mi happy. Mi happy wid wi family. Wid wi life."

I exhale, feeling a bit of the weight lifting off my chest.

"Yes, mi mek the work thing get outta hand inna a way, but a that mi a work pon now."

"I'm only telling you how I feel, Marcus. Ano noth'n fi offend you or noth'n."

He nods, his jaw clenching slightly as he reaches for the wine the waiter just set down. "And mi rate say yawh be open, babes. But...Jah Jah, mi hate say yuh feel tha way deh. And it sucks to say that it's mostly my fault."

He clears his throat, reaching across the table to pull my hand into his. The warmth of our skin-to-skin contact, grounds me. "But I don't want it to stay like this, yuzeet. I want us to be...us again. I want to feel like we're not just...yuh know, going through the motions, for fuck's sake."

I give him a small smile.

And he exhales as if relieved. He chuckles lowly. "Jah know? Cyaa have mi woman a pree mi certain way, bredda."

Releasing the hold he has on my hand, he pours the wine, handing me a glass, and for a moment, neither of us say anything. The clink of glasses from other tables fills the silence.

"I don't want that either," I finally say, referencing his point about 'not wanting it to stay like this'.

Clearing my throat as well, I take a sip of the wine. It's the perfect blend. "But how do we get back there? That's the issue. It's not like we can just snap our fingers and go back to how it was, babe."

Marcus leans forward, resting his elbows on the table, his eyes serious. It's not very often that I see him so determined, unless it's work-related. "How about we start here? Right now. By agreeing to put each other and ourselves first. By making the time. And the effort. By not letting everything else come before us...no matter what."

His smile slowly stretches into a sweet grin. He quirks a brow, urging my response. "Wah yuh seh? Deal?"

I bite my lip, nodding slowly. It sounds simple, but I know it's not. We've tried before-date nights that ended with us talking more about the kids than ourselves; movie nights which turned into arguments; planned vacations that turned into work trips. And the list goes on.

But let's see how it goes this time around.

Plus, I love when he's in his boss man mode. I love the initiative.

"Alright," I say, meeting his gaze. "Deal."

"How yuh mean mi sexy body wife! Cheers to that," he tells me, holding up his flute for me to complete the gesture.

"Cheers," I say, smiling, as I clink my glass against his.

The waiter returns, and we place our orders--Marcus going for the steak, me choosing the salmon-- and as soon as he walks away, I lean back in my chair, studying Marcus's face as he zones out.

I notice the way his brow furrows slightly, the way he taps his fingers against the table, a habit he's had since I've known him.

He catches me staring again.

And I blush.

Quirking a brow, he says, "Wah? Still nervous?"

"No."

"Then wah tha look deh fa?"

"Which look?" I play oblivious.

He bites down on his lower lip, his eyes narrowing as he studies me, and it's the sexiest thing ever. The ache between my legs returns. Ten fold.

I shuffle in my seat and it doesn't go unnoticed.

His smirk grows teasing. "The one you were giving me just now."

I take another sip of the water. "I don't know what you're talking about. Don't get any ideas, I'm fine."

"Who said you weren't?"

"Babe," I say, resisting the urge to blush. I know my cheeks are red from how hot I feel.

I don't know when it happened but the atmosphere shifts.

"See how woman stay?" He chuckles. "A you a mek mischief ova desso eno and who a get the blame?"

"I'm not making any mischief, neither am I blaming you. I'm over here minding my own business, Mr Blackwell. It's you who come a nosey up yuhself."

"How? Nuh you a undress mi wid yuh eyes?"

"And so? A who fa eyes? And a who fa man? Mi free fi do wah mi want eno! I have the legal right."

He holds his hands up surrender style. "Alright, ma'am. Sorry, mi apologize. Gwaan do yuh thing."

I laugh. Like genuinely laugh and it's a refreshing feeling.

For the first time in a while, it feels like the tension between us has eased.

I take a deep breath, feeling lighter.

The waiter returns shortly afterwards with our orders, and we dig in.

I can see why the food is so expensive, it's delicious!

Shoulda take two pics for the gram.

But, oh well.

"Taste good don't it?" Marcus asks, drawing me out of my head.

I smile and pick up a piece of the salmon with the fork. "Definitely."

He nods and goes back to eating with a satisfied grunt.

As I look at him across the table, I realize that even though we've been going through our going through these past weeks, there's still something real here.

Something worth holding on to.

Thankfully, we aren't too far gone.

We just need to make the conscious effort to work on ourselves and our relationship like everybody else.

Afterall, we have too much to lose.

And I'd be damned if I let anything or anyone, besides me, fuck with my food.