Page 133 of Quasim III: King Inferno

She took a sigh of relief. “Simmy.”

I watched as she looked at the woman and then me. “I hear you, Blair… I hear everything you say. I’m listening… always.”

She kissed me on the lips and then pulled back in panic. “I don’t have any clothes for a shoot… I can pu?—”

“I want to capture you nude, Anjo… in your natural state because you so fucking beautiful. The sun shining on your body while you’re in peace.”

“Right here on the beach?”

“Yeah. Everybody knows that we’re doing maternity pictures over here.”

“I don’t have any makeup on.”

“Don’t need any.”

I watched as the photographer spoke with her and ran down the poses she wanted her to be in, and what she felt comfortable doing. She had a red silk sheet that she had Anjo drape across her, hiding her breasts and between her legs, but her stomach was on display.

Like I did in Bali, I watched her in her zone, the light fighting to cover her. Dripped in the sun, her complexion glowed. It was glowing because our baby girl was inside of her. The one sent to heal the both of us.

She laughed while the photographer talked about whatever and told her to pull her cover girl out. The smile that graced my face happened on its own as she looked over at me. This was my wife. The woman that I never thought I would have.

The one who knew her worth and didn’t give a fuck that the streets called me King Inferno. A woman that used to be so broken, but had fixed the pieces on her own, and I handed her the glue. So determined to be more than someone’s wife and have her own career and life.

My wife.

A woman who had been failed by the foster system until she met another remarkable woman to love her. Anjo’s only problem was loving too hard and giving that to the wrong people. Despite life breaking her down, she never broke.

Strength.

Even when she didn’t feel the strength, second guessed it, and wondered if she would ever find love, she never stopped loving or showing up for her friends. Every time I thought about her battling cancer on her own, making the conscious decision never to give up when life was beating her down, it brought tears to my eyes.

Despite never getting the love she deserved, she welcomed a broken boy who needed love into her heart, protecting him as if she pushed him out herself. I could feel the tears coming down my face as I watched her.

“Hubby, you want to join her?”

I wiped my face and took my shirt off and joined her. Putting my arms around her and kissing her shoulder. “Simmy, you’re crying.”

“I’m good, love… smile,” I kissed her shoulder while pointing to the photographer, and she was more concerned with me, turning in my arms.

She wiped the tears that fell from my eyes. “Tell me, baby… what’s the matter?”

“Thank you, Blair.”

Her eyebrow raised. “For what?”

Her soft voice caressed my eardrums while she held my face in her hands. “For never giving up on me, baby. When you should have walked away, you never did.”

“Because you’re worthy of being loved,” she said softly. “Worthy of being reminded that you matter. We were bothbroken, yes… you.” her voice cracked. “You were more broken because you couldn’t believe you deserved this.”

She took my hand and placed it on her stomach. Our daughter kicked wildly against my palm.

“Simmy, you are worthy of a second chance at love. At fatherhood. Worthy of being loved the way you love everyone else. You don’t ever have to apologize for that, baby. Not to me.” She softly pressed her lips against mine.

The photographer continued to take pictures as I kissed her lips and held onto her like I never wanted to let her go, and I didn’t want to let her go.

She and Elijah were my entire world.

“Simmy,” she whispered and looked down at my hardened dick.

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