I chuckle at her candor. It takes a moment, but I soon realize Stenton goes rigid next to me. With a wide smile and soft eyes, I whisper, “Is everything okay?” He gives two brief nods and goes for his drink. Something’s obviously off, but I’m too embarrassed to ask directly. This isn’t looking good for my plans tonight. We’re staying in Alpine because I have the day off tomorrow and Stenton has an NBA commercial shoot in New York City first thing in the morning. We figure Jordan and I will hang out around the pool and wait for him to be done then drive back down to Philly together.
“Brooklyyyyyn!” Angela shouts. “It’s time to go! I have to have you to your father’s soon.”
“Call Jordan while you’re at it.” I joke, but not really. I turn to Stenton while snickering to find his eyes hidden from me. That never feels good to me.
We all leave out fifteen minutes later, promising to do this again soon. It really was fun. In the car, Jordan sits between his dad and me, nestled into my torso. He’s tired and still trying to come down from his time with his cousins.
“Mommy, am I gonna have to take a bath when we get home?”
“We’re going to Daddy’s in Alpine, not to Philly. And yes, you will have to take a bath—”
“It’s our home, not just Daddy’s,” Stenton growls.
I jerk my neck and flutter my eyes, standing corrected. I’m sure my teasing smile further frustrates him. “Well, alrighty then.”
Stenton turns back to brooding in the window.
“Mommy, I’m sleepy,” Jordan admits over a yawn as he further snuggles into my side. Jordan always announces his exhaustion. “Daddy’s cranky-danky ‘cause he’s sleepy, too.”
My bright eyes shoot down to a closed-eyed Jordan and then over to Stenton whose attention that observation got as well, only sans the grin I wore. Stenton shakes his head then returns back to the window watching in the black night.
If Jordan was attempting to ensure he wouldn’t have to bathe before going to bed he succeeds. Stenton ends up carrying him to bed and changing a deadweight six year old into his pajamas.
As he closes the door to Jordan’s bedroom, I attempt to throw him my “let’s get nasty” eyes only to have Stenton completely ignore me, train his eyes ahead and keep his stride to the bedroom. I follow, but now with the stubborn resolve of going to bed without having him all over me and inside of me first. After all, I guess I should be satiated, considering we rolled around my walk-in closet in Philly before Stenton left for training this morning. I can’t get enough of him. Sex has been fun, exciting, experimental, and downright therapeutic. And he tolerates me no matter the hour, showing me something new each time, teaching me more about my body along the way. And it’s clear to me, none of that will be taking place tonight.
So, yeah, tonight I’ll chill out. I don’t have time for petulant Stenton. He reminds me of the moody Stenton who presented me with my first luxury car and the one who broke my heart after the Cayman Islands. I won’t tolerate that person. I already have a child to placate; I refuse to do it with his father, too.
StentRo, you’re on your own, bud.
I go straight into the en suite of his master bedroom and run myself a hot bath. While it’s running, I skip down the steps and into the pantry to pour myself a large glass of wine. If there’s one gripe I have about Karen and B.J.’s hosting it’s that they don’t serve alcohol. I know Karen drinks on occasion, but B.J. doesn’t, so there goes buzzed gatherings at their place. When I’m back upstairs, I light candles and shut the faucet off once the monstrous tub is filled.