Page 29 of Slightly Married
Got my period.
Something deflated within me, and I pushed the dessert away. “I’ll go to her,” I informed my mother, though what I would say when I arrived remained a mystery.
Words of comfort had never come easily to me. Business problems had solutions; financial setbacks had strategies.
How did one address a disappointment of this nature? What phrases could properly acknowledge her feelings without sounding dismissive?
“Good,” she replied with that knowing look. “You can’t make a baby if you never see her.”
Without responding to her pointed comment, I cut another portion of galaktoboureko, selected a clean fork, and carried both through the villa’s corridors. At Kayla’s door, I hesitated, then knocked and entered when she invited me in.
She was curled up in bed with her knees drawn to her chest. Her expression shifted to surprise when she saw me. “I thought you were Tia. What are you doing here?”
“I was in the neighborhood when I got your message,” I replied.
My gaze swept the room, and I was taken aback by the transformation. The dark-wood furnishings had completely vanished. In its place stood an entirely different space.
A plush shell-shaped headboard in dusty rose velvet now dominated the room, set against an illuminated arch, creating a soft halo effect. Above, a modern chandelier with cascading white disks scattered light across the space. The curved bench at the foot of the bed and minimalist white nightstands completed the contemporary esthetic.
“You’ve... made changes,” I observed, taking in the elegant gold accents and subtle blush tones.
Kayla nodded, running her hand along the textured throw blanket. “I had it redone to replicate my bedroom back in New York. I needed something familiar while I was here. Thecontractors were surprisingly efficient. Dimitrios helped me find them.”
“It’s very—” I searched for the right word, “you.”
“Is that a compliment or criticism?” Kayla asked.
“An observation,” I replied, noting how the room’s warm tones reflected aspects of her personality. Bold yet inviting, distinctive without being ostentatious. “I appreciate that you’ve made yourself at home.”
“Well, if I’m going to be here for a while, I might as well have a space that feels like mine,” she said, adjusting one of the decorative pillows. “Besides, I couldn’t sleep another night in that medieval four-poster with the heavy curtains. It was like sleeping in a museum.”
Her braids were tucked beneath a bright pink head covering. “Are you cold?” I asked, gesturing toward her head while moving to secure the verandah door against the evening breeze.
Her laughter stopped me. “This is a silk bonnet,” she explained, patting the covering. “Black women use it to protect their hair while they sleep.” She pointed at the pillow. “I could sleep without a bonnet on these pillowcases since they’re silk, but the bonnet keeps my hair neat and smooth.”
“Ah,” I acknowledged, filing away this new information.
Her gaze dropped to the plate in my hands. “What’s that?”
I extended it toward her. “Galaktoboureko.” After a beat, I added, “I didn’t bake it, but I sliced it and brought it for you.”
I wanted to tell her that I understood her disappointment, that I shared it, that we would succeed eventually, but I wasn’t sure they were the right words.
She caught the joke, her smile reaching her eyes as she slipped out of bed. I focused on maintaining eye contact rather than letting my gaze linger on her thigh-length silk nightgown. She motioned toward the sitting area, and I followed.
She took a generous bite of the dessert, her appreciation evident in the soft sound that escaped her. The innocent reaction stirred my cock.
“Good?” I asked.
“Kill me now,” she groaned, “so I can die happy.” She took another bite, then surprised me by offering, “Wanna share?”
“It’s yours,” I said, though without conviction.
She held out a forkful, and I accepted, the intimacy of sharing a fork not lost on me. We continued this exchange in comfortable silence until the plate was nearly empty.
“What if I can’t get pregnant?” she asked quietly.
I straightened, unwilling to entertain the possibility. “It’s only our second attempt,” I reminded her. “We need to remain patient.”
