St. Patty's Baby!

The Divas Pen LLC Publication http://thedivaspen.com

St. Patty's Baby! ISBN 9780983381204 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED St. Patty's Baby! © Copyright 2011 Sienna Mynx Cover art by Reese Dante Editor: Rie Langdon Electronic book publication March 2011 With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, The Diva’s Pen LLC. Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/). Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

St. Patty's Baby! An imperfect romance can be the sweetest love. The anticipated sequel to Funny Valentine is here… Back then, there wasn’t a prison wall dense enough to keep me from dreaming. And you know what? Princess was always there. Didn’t know her name, couldn’t tell you what she looked like, but I knew how I wanted love between my woman and me to feel. In my dreams, Princess would give me a baby of my own. My moms would have the grandbaby she always wanted. My brother Nicky was alive. Just random stuff that wasn’t supposed to be my life. Now I’m living it, minus my family, that is. I’m living my dream. And this man knows how to love and appreciate... Melvin Reed is grateful for a second chance at happiness. A wife and kid is more than he ever thought possible, after the crimes and sins he’d committed. But that’s all changed. Now he’s well on his way to having it all. What he doesn’t understand is his lady’s determination to delve into a past he wishes to leave behind. Who cares if they’re different? For Melvin she’s perfectly matched for him in every way. Tia Jackson Reed has it all. A husband she loves, a new baby on the way, and a life full of love. Married for just over four weeks, she’s determined to explore all the different levels of marital bliss. And to Tia, celebrating their cultural differences is the key. So she enlists the help of her sisters to bring in a new tradition for the Jackson family: St. Patrick’s Day. Will Tia’s plans for St. Patrick’s Day bring them face to face with the worst part of Mel, or unify them even more?

Prologue

What time is it? There’s light, but not enough for me to tell. Soft silver beams seep in through the blinds and cover the bed in bars of moonlight. The sun hasn’t risen yet, but it’s coming and I can’t wait. I crave making love to my lady at sunrise. It’s part of our routine. Now’s a time for a man to rest. So I take another breath, a deeper one, to reclaim sleep. She moves. Rolls that beautiful body up against mine and stretches with a whimpered purr. My head drops over on the pillow. We’re nose to nose. Damn if she isn’t more beautiful when she’s asleep. Her thick lashes rest evenly on her cheekbones. She has the cutest nose and those lips, man, those lips in motion can bring me to my knees. Yep, I’m biased. Doesn’t make it any less true, though. Let’s be clear about this. A man knows what he has with his woman. And I treasure every sweet moment I’ve found with Tia Jackson Reed. Removing my arm from between us makes it easier to bring her in closer. All I want to do is go back to sleep. My body aches for it. Her warmth is so sweet at this hour, it could help. When our crib is still and cool and it’s just me and her it’s damn near paradise. Feel me? Only this woman could nurture the pain away, then convince me to return to my parents’ home and make it ours. A house I avoided since I put the old man in the grave. She did all the redecorating, which I didn’t mind. I wanted it to have her touch. Hell, that’s the best thing about marrying a lady. She knows how to make a man’s home his castle. We’re having another room added for my big-screen TV and pool table. She says I need my space. Ain’t that something? Princess is taking care of me in all the right ways. “Mmm…” She moans and stirs.

Her arm eases around my waist. Lips, soft and gentle, graze over my chest. She’s waking and I swear it wasn’t my intent. But yeah, I like it when she wakes like this. Her hand glides down my back. The other reaches between us and my dick rises to meet her touch. When I lower my gaze, I can only see the top of her head, wrapped in that damn purple-and-yellow headscarf she insists on wearing to bed. Fuck it. Tonight I don’t mind. Princess kisses my chest and she’s stroking me just right. Mmm. She knows to be careful: wake the beast and it’s on. If this is just a tease, a passing touch between wakeful moments and sleep, she needs to let go of my cock now. I’m only human after all. Sex has slowed a bit since our honeymoon. I have to admit that lately I’m hesitant. We’re only into the third month of this pregnancy. Baby needs to take it easy, and so do I. Not willing to risk my angel over some loving. Crazy, I know, but hey. The kid means the world to me. It’s hard to convince Tia to cut back. If I’m not on her she’s questioning a man about her beauty, desirability… why do women do that? So I’m working on a balance. Princess has an appetite that even I sometimes can’t keep up with. Strange though, me being her first and only lover, it’s weird watching my baby blossom. She’s in control a lot more in bed. Hell, she’s taught me a thing or two. Baby knows all my spots and I know all hers. Yeah, we fit. Damn. Here she goes… *** He’s awake. Good. I missed him. Last night, he got in so late, we didn’t have dinner together. He ate some of the cold leftovers from the fridge, then collapsed on the couch with a beer and the remote. I had to nearly knock him upside his head to get him in bed. Stroking him now, I can tell. He’s awake, and wanting me too. I need to feel him inside me. Then I can get some sleep.

Mel’s easy to roll over. When I ease on top of him, the bed shifts and he groans. Poor baby. Don’t you worry. Tia plans to make it right. Jeez, who knew the marital bed could be so sweet? I swear, being his wife does things to me. Our eyes meet. His are heavy with exhaustion, mine feel weighted by desire. There are no words. We both know this dance, had done it enough mornings before. We’ll do it before morning until it takes one or the both of us out. Besides the tears, and the food cravings, the increase in my libido is beyond bizarre. I think I might be exaggerating the hormone thing, but something is definitely changed about me and my appetite. Tonight I can’t help myself. Melvin is very passionate in the ways he loves me. It’s addictive. I want to die in his arms. Like I said, I’ve missed him all day. And when he touches me, the feelings he stirs, I can’t explain it. Like now, he’s rubbing my thighs, moving my nightdress up as he does. I can help him there. Pulling the thin satin camisole over my head, I give it a toss to the floor. My headscarf comes off, revealing my locks smoothed into a wrapped-up cone, which breaks and drops heavily on my shoulders in a twisting wave. He complains a lot about me wrapping my hair and wearing the scarf to bed. Sweetie doesn’t get all the maintenance needed to stay beautiful for him. Tonight I could care less. I have one mission and pleasing us is it. Leaning in for a taste of his lips, I press a kiss to his mouth. The scruff of his chin brushes mine. He’s got his hands in my hair again, arranging it how he likes. Not a problem. In fact I’m too distracted to notice. With him stiff and hard between the folds of my pussy, all focus goes to the apex of my sex. He’s giving me the shakes, I want to invite him in so bad. But Mel’s not ready. Not yet. I know his needs by heart. Instead of giving in, I’m kissing his jaw and under his chin, prolonging it a bit. Did I mention the benefit of being married to a florist? Man smells like roses. It’s like in his blood or something, and I can’t get enough of it. Shower, shave, aftershave, cologne, none of it changes the underlying scent of roses embedded in every cell of his skin.

With a slow tease, I run my tongue over the thick cord of his neck and it gets him off. Knocks his head back, makes his Adam’s apple bob in his throat. He sips at the air, chest tight, jaw clenched. He’s holding back. That’s fine. I started it, I’ll finish it in due time. *** Her body against mine, skin on skin, it’s got me tight and hard all over. Princess makes me burn. I’m debating whether I should flip her and show her what waking her man with a slow tease could bring. She likes these midnight games, so yeah, I’ll play. Damn, she feels good. Her pussy is plump, slick and oh-so-warm as she glides up and down my cock nice and steady. She winds her hips and I think finally she’s going to let me hit it, but she lifts to look down at me. A wicked grin curls the corner of her mouth. Oh yes, she’s in the mood to play. But I invented the game, baby. Cupping her breasts, which she complains about being tender and abnormal in size, I’m careful of how I massage them. She looks down at me with those dark irises of hers in appreciation. “Morning.” She speaks, and it’s like warm honey poured over me. She shifts and my cock rises as well. She’s teasing me, pushing me to go there. And yah, I’m diggin’ it. She feels so good. Her palms are as soft and warm as between her thighs. She takes her time, running them up and down my chest, then she braces and comes down on me slow. So-so-so-so slow that I’m grunting hard, digging my nails into the mattress. “I love you, honey. You love me?” she asks. Oh come on, baby, cut it out… damn. “Yes, babe.” It’s torture, the slow-moving hip action she’s laying down on me. I know she likes the pace, but the things she does to me. Only a man would understand. Takes all the fucking willpower I have to not roll her and fuck her through the mattress. I

just might, if she doesn’t give it to me soon. Faster, harder, the way I need it, the way I need her. *** Sweet merciful God, I can barely hold on. I want to savor this moment. I love being filled with him. I love being on top. Pleasing him, pleasing me, owning this— this thing called love. Melvin is such a man, too. He’s thick and hard as steel when he’s pumping every inch into me. Oh, and let’s not forget my favorite part. It’s after I got my legs locked around him and he’s moving inside of me. He clenches his ass when it gets really good to him, and gives me an upward thrust that sends tingles through my pelvis and shatters my spine. My own thrusts back and forth become fractured. Tears of pleasure spring from my eyes. It’s so good. So lasting and good, he’s brought me to my peak. That’s what I want tonight. “Mel… wait… I got this.” I hear myself plead as his grip tightens on my hips and he lifts me for the first strike. My nails dig into his chest to no avail, he won’t wait another minute. His entry is swift, sending sparks of electricity through my blood vessels, all the way to my brain. My passion and our shared lust explodes and rains embers of undiluted ecstasy that’s like a hit of the most potent drug. “Yes!” Escapes my lips and my head goes back, breasts cupped in his hands now. It helps to place my hands behind me to his knees as I arch further and I can feel each inch of him with my rise and fall on his member harder, harder, harder. “Don’t stop, Mel. That’s my spot… oh, oh, yeah. Don’t stop.” *** Ah hell, I couldn’t stop if I wanted to. Princess has found her rhythm and she’s riding that wave, taking me under with her. Her tight walls clench each time she descends on me and I’m left

wheezing since my lungs can only expel, not receive, air. These breasts, they grow each day, the areolas spreading and the nipples getting thicker, darker. My pale hands on them makes the tension in my heart coil tighter, with even more desire for my lady. Sweet and beautiful is what she is. My hands slide to her belly. Damn I wish there was more. She’s got just a little bump of my angel growing inside. I can’t wait to meet the little soldier. “Mel… Mel… oh yeah, it feels good.” “I’m here, baby.” My throat’s dry, which muffles my answer under deep grunts. I sit up so she’s in my arms, on my lap, legs wrapped tight around my waist. She holds on to me and I have to get deeper. Capturing her legs wrapped around me, I cup them from under the knees so I can bring them upward, and go deeper. “Too… much,” she says, gripping my shoulders. So I let her legs drop over the crease in my arms and palm that sweet ass of hers to control her pace. She tenses and digs her nails into my skin. “Ooooo… ooh,” she moans, her head rolling back as I hit that spot. High and deep, I’m hitting that spot. I should know, it’s mine. All of her, mine, mine, mine, hell yes. Like I said before, I’d cut a man to the bone, he mess with this. Her inner walls stretch and she’s holding on, letting me get it. Really get it. But damn if it isn’t enough. I want more. Blood’s pounding in my ears, a tribal beat, a call to action. It’s time to love my woman my way. Flipping her to her back, still buried deep, I shock her into another position that has her releasing a deep gasp. She’s open to me. My mouth crushes hers. There’s a tangled dueling of our tongues as I’m thrusting into her, hard and strong. More heat meets me where I’d think there would be resistance. This pussy behaves. As it should, since it’s mine. Heat’s radiating like a beacon, directing me where to go and how to get deeper. “So good, so good,” I repeat over and over, biting her bottom lip and pumping hard and fast.

Her scent is everywhere and the coppery taste of her is filling my senses. Kissing and fucking my sweet lady harder than I should, I drink of her essence. But let me tell you, it’s not enough. Not with Tia, it never is. There’s this need, urgent, unyielding need, to go the distance. “Baby forgive me, I can’t stop.” I’m whimpering, my hips rising and falling and the bedsprings in the mattress groaning. She doesn’t say anything in response, just kisses my face and runs her hands over my back to my ass. So damn it, I’ll take it there. Rolling my hips and pumping with a master’s beat, I got her gasping and thrusting back. “Yes. You like that, don’t you?” I run my tongue over her shoulder. “Mmm Mel. I do,” she says in that sweet, ladylike manner that sends me spiraling out of control. My breathing seizes. I ease out of her and slam back into her, then repeat the action. “Tell me, Princess, tell me how you enjoy it. Talk to your man.” “You know I do. Keep going... ye-yes!” Then I feel it, all around us, her climax charging the air. An explosion inside of her causes her channel to grip my dick and stroke me with each push and pull between us. There’s nothing left to do but give in. “Fuck!” I grunt loudly, holding her tight, and draining every drop inside of her, coating her womb that covers my baby, our baby, the life we made in a night or morning just like this one. Damn, I love her so. *** He’s done. So am I. Best part of the night, no matter how late, is this. I know he’s tired, been working really hard lately. Too hard, if you ask me, and Mel never does. I know he wants to provide for us, but he needs to let me take on some of the burden.

His head lifts. Sweat drips down the sides, over his temples. His green eyes are a dull shade of jade and can barely be seen under his heavy-cast lids. “Morning.” I smile, stroking his face. “Can I stay inside you a minute longer?” he pants, dropping on my chest. “Get up, Mel. Let me freshen up. I can make you an early breakfast.” “No, don’t want to eat… unless it’s from you,” he wheezes. “Up, baby. You heavy.” He groans, pulls out, and I ache for his return. No matter, he isn’t ready anyway. Our juices are mixing and leaking out of me. I’m all sweaty and sticky. That’s how I probably got pregnant in the first place, his laying up inside of me. “Wanna shower together?” I ask. “Give me a minute,” he pants. “You’re working too hard.” “I’m cool, Princess. Just need a minute,” he sighs. “Do you know what today is?” “Mmmm,” he moans, and I see him slipping away. He’s falling fast into that place your husband goes when you loved him good after he’s worked so hard for you. For your family. I’ll let him rest. Sunday is his only day of rest. Shaking my head and easing out of bed, I know one thing for sure. He better damn well know what today is. That’s all I got to say about that.

Chapter One

“If you hold still, I can get the dang thing… um… ugh… I… I… got it. There!” “Oww!” The zipper takes some of my skin with it. “That hurt!” “Not my problem,” she shrugs. She’s right. The problem is I’m trying to squeeze my obvious new size-eight curves into a six and it ain’t working. I’m sucking in everything God gave me to fit in the dress. The last thing I need is for this eighty-dollar garment to rip at the seams. Slowly, I release the air from my lungs and surprisingly, the dress holds. It’s really cute. Perfect. My sweetie will like it. This I know because I can wear his Celtics jersey to bed and he’s drooling before wrestling it off me. Yes. Mel is going to be all over me after one look at this. “It’s not too much, is it? I mean, do I look pregnant?” My head drops to the left. I can’t help but fixate on the little bulge in my midsection. The changing room is barely big enough for us both, so I’m not sure she sees what I see. “You are pregnant, goofy.” Sherry rolls her eyes then draws back the curtain. I can hear Kelvin Jr. giggling, probably in his favorite place, Margie’s lap. And of course Pam is complaining as usual about needing to get home to her own kids. I know everyone’s tired of me. Hell, I’m tired of me. Still, this is important. I really need the best dress. Look at this one. My tits are round as melons. Ugh! I hate them. Can’t even push them down, or tuck them in. No matter how I adjust my bra, they bounce back up. Seriously, they get any bigger they’ll rival Margie’s and Alicia’s jugs, and end up sagging too. Over to my left on the dressing hooks, I count three. Those cute dresses are calling my name, probably fit much better than this one, or the rack filled with Kellygreen rejects, out there with my sisters.

Maybe I should buy all three and try them on for Melvin—in a size eight of course. Tried that before, when I wanted him to help me pick out something for our engagement party. Damn if he didn’t want to make love with me in the dress. Ruined the Stella McCartney that I’m stuck with and can’t wear. “Girl, get your narra ass out here so I can see. I want to get to Nine West before the Mall closes,” Margie huffs. “Wait a second.” When I turn sideways, my focus centers on my tummy. Even a rub over it with my hand doesn’t quite flatten it like I want. I’m only three months. You can barely tell. But it’s ruining the fit of the dress. Our wedding was just a month ago. In fact, today is our one-month anniversary. I can’t wait until tonight to celebrate. He was in the shower when I left for church. But he should know what a special day this one is. Three consecutive beeps echo from deep in my purse. I’m digging out my cell phone with that excited bubbling feeling I get when he sends me a message. And yes, I have one waiting for me. U done yet? I’m missing u… Aww, how sweet! He misses me. Didn’t Margie say she spoke to Chuckie and they were out in his garage fixing his car? My fingers tap in a quick reply and I wait impatiently for a response. Leaving soon. Give me another hour before you come home. Got a surprise for you! “Tia!” “Coming! Don’t embarrass me, Margie!” I yell back. Okay, Princess. Still missing u. Let me know when u leaving.

Margie says something else, but it’s low enough that the whole store doesn’t have to hear. I press a kiss to the LCD window on my cell phone and then drop it back in my purse. Of course my sister doesn’t get it. I’ve got to look the part. I want to make a good impression. “This dress won’t work. My butt looks—” “Tia!” Margie snaps. “Okay, okay.” When I escape the small changing room, it’s a relief to find the store has pretty much emptied. Don’t want an audience to observe how my bubble butt is jacking up the back of this dress. Besides the two ladies thumbing through racks and a frustrated salesclerk, it’s just me and my sisters. But they’re worse than the crowd at the Apollo. My eyes bounce from one face to the next. Yep, they’re sick of me. Sherry’s walking a short path between racks. KJ, which is what we call Kelvin Jr., is not being kind. She forces the Winnie the Pooh sippy cup to his lips and that unleashes the kid’s fury. His howl is louder than Beyoncé’s wails playing from the store’s speakers. Pam and Margie are both frowning at my dress and Alicia is barely with us, laughing and talking on the phone. Margie rises, giving the dress a closer inspection. “Well what’s wrong with that one?” she asks. “It’s two sizes too small, for starters.” Pam snickers. “Oh, be quiet Pam. Look at it, Margie.” I turn sideways to show them my rump. “I’m spreading all over the place.” “You’re pregnant. Trust me, hun, it’s gonna keep spreading,” Pam snorted. “Wait until gravity gets a hold of it.” “I know that, but not this soon. I got another month or so,” I snap back. Margie is behind me, tugging on the seams of the dress as if she’d sewn it. “Would you stop that?” I’m shooing her hands away. “I don’t get it.” Alicia closes her phone. “Isn’t St. Patrick’s Day about white folks painting each other green and getting drunk? Why are you tripping over some dress? Got us all over this mall looking for the dang thing.”

“Nah, they drink green beer and eat lots of green foods because it’s their culture. A Ireland thang. It’s like King Day or something for them,” Margie says, running the zipper up and down, pinching my skin. “Margie, stop!” I groan, stepping out of reach of her hands. “It is not like Martin Luther King Day. Good grief! St. Patrick’s Day is… well it’s… I don’t know. Melvin is Irish and it’s an important day, so we’re going to celebrate. He just doesn’t know it yet. I got a surprise for him. For our anniversary.” “ANNIVERSARY!” They all say at once. “Yes, anniversary.” Margie grins. “Aww, she wants to celebrate her first month of marriage. How cute.” “Chile, no way in hell Clarence would agree to that,” Alicia huffs. “I can barely get the man to remember the actual date.” “Well, my Melvin isn’t like any of your whack husbands. He’s just as excited about today as I am,” I boast. They eye each other, then smirk. No one challenges me on it. Hands down, I know I got the best guy. He was probably shopping earlier, trying to figure out what to get me. “So you planning something for St. Patrick’s Day without telling the man?” Pam frowns. They all look at me. Give me that skeptical eye like I’m controlling things again. It’s not true. I just want to do something special for my husband. Do something all about him for a change. He’s constantly focused on me and everything my family needs. Hell, I had to fight with him just to create our new game room. Melvin’s been really stressing lately over the re-development on the Avenue. And he’s jumpy as hell about this pregnancy. Doesn’t say so, but I can tell. If I stub my toe, he’s damn near carrying me around our place. I take advantage of it sometimes. Sue me. I like the attention. Last year when we were just dating, he went out and celebrated without me. I always felt kind of cheated. Stupid, I know, but I’m so attached to him in my universe, I don’t like the idea of him leaving the world we created without me. To

compound matters, he didn’t tell me much about that night. He was so drunk the next day he reeked of liquor. I volunteered to take care of him. By then I was hooked, and a little curious to make sure it wasn’t another woman. Well, it was, kind of, and her name is St. Patty’s Day. This St. Patrick’s Day will be different. We’re married. Plus, our baby is part Irish. He or she has to know about his heritage right? “What? Why are ya’ll looking at me like that?” “Exactly how do you plan to pull this off?” Pam asked. “I heard him on the phone the other night. They have this thing at some quaint little place called The Shamrock.” Alicia laughed aloud and Margie tried to contain the laughter that gleamed in her eyes. “What’s funny?” I ask with my hands to my hips. “I’m going to push KJ in the stroller. He’s getting on my nerves with all this whining,” Sherry interrupted, trying to shove her kid in the seat. “Give me that baby,” Margie says, wrapping him up in her arms. “Tee-tee gotcha. It’s okay, Tee-tee gotcha.” KJ immediately calms down and shoots his mother a mean look. You’d swear Margie was his mother, the way the kid behaves. Back on point. I want my answers. “What’s funny!!” I’m shouting over them. Alicia and Pam are both chastising Sherry for her lack of mothering skills. “Hey! I’m serious. What’s funny?” Margie turns with KJ on her hip. “Shamrock is a bar, Tia. It’s out in Sweeney Town on the North Side.” “How do you know?” Alicia narrowed her eyes on me. “We catered it for the Super Bowl a few years ago. Trust on this lil-sis, if Melvin’s going there it ain’t to eat no damn crumpets and drink tea, okay?” “So it’s a bar. It’s a party, still. If it’s his celebration then—” “Damn, Tia! Do you watch the news?” Alicia snapped. “They dye the lake green and run up and down the street drunk, chasing leprechauns or some stuff.”

“They do not,” Pam laughed. “They may not, but it gets wild. They always start fighting out there. You don’t need to be going to The Shamrock. What am I saying?” Margie smacks her hand to her forehead and grins, pointing a finger at me like I’m the butt of the joke. “Ya’ll know Mel ain’t taking Ms. Priss ’round his drunken Irish boys. No way in hell.” “Whatever.” I wave them all off. Nobody knows my husband better than me. And trust me, he won’t deny me anything. Won’t be no celebrating St. Patty’s Day without me. So yep, gonna look the part. Knock them on their green butts and make my sweetie proud. Turning to draw the curtain closed, I catch a final glimpse of Sherry in a full pout as Margie fusses at her over KJ not having enough Pampers. Alicia’s moaning about The Gap closing and Pam’s saying she wants to go to Macy’s. Leaving them to their ruckus, with a flustered shopkeeper wishing she could get us all out of the store, I’m left to my dilemma. Which dress should I choose? I’ll buy the other three and decide at home. Give Melvin a private show. That should make tonight interesting, indeed. *** “Have another?” Chuckie tosses a cold one, which I catch before it sails past me and crashes into the wall. The stench of motor oil and exhaust fills the garage. “Shit, man. I don’t know. Looks like a head gasket could be the problem. Maybe some leakage of coolant into the cylinders.” He wipes his brow with his greasy hand and gulps downs the Heineken, eyes on me instead of the engine. It’s time I roll. Been here late enough, plus Princess text me back saying she was home now, ready for me to come. I’m missing my baby. I guess I should say babies, since she got my little soldier inside. Yeah, I think it’s a boy. Got a name for him and everything. “I just replaced the damn head gasket. Cain’t be it,” Chuckie grumbles.

Draining the beer, I dunk the glass bottle in the big green trash can to the corner. Score! The sun is gone, just the trail of purple-red heat streaked in the sky. It gets darker later now. Either way, I got an early morning at the shop. She leaves for work even earlier, giving me little time to have her to myself. I just want to curl up with my lady and chill tonight. “Time for me to blaze. Check you later.” “Hold up. Got a question for you.” I get the feeling that this is the reason he wanted me to stop by. Neither of us knows shit about cars. But we talk enough game to justify bringing a mechanic into the fold. So yeah, something had to be up. “Shoot.” “Margie wanted me to speak to you, about Tia.” My focus is singular now. He has my undivided attention. “Something going on with Princess that I don’t know? What about Tia?” “She’s been worried about you. Says you got the new-daddy jitters.” To this I smile. “New daddy jitters, huh?” Chuckie nods. “It’s cool. Hell, Margie got pregnant on our wedding night. Gave me six boys. And I was stressing with each one. So I know where you coming from.” “Nah, man. I’m cool.” “Are you? I’m a good listener.” There’s a heavy burden in my sigh, but I release it anyway. To tell the truth, I’ve been trippin’ lately. This whole new life with Tia is surreal. How do I explain it? It feels like one of those dreams I used to have in the joint. The ones that helped me pass the time. Not go under by my grief and guilt. Man, the power of the human mind and its ability to protect itself from the retardation of captivity. ’Cause I don’t give a shit what nobody says, it’s better to put a noose around a man’s neck than to cage him. Back then, there wasn’t a prison wall dense enough to keep me from dreaming. And you know what? Princess was always there. Didn’t know her name,

couldn’t tell you what she looked like, but I knew how I wanted love between my woman and me to feel. In my dreams, Princess would give me a baby of my own. Moms would have the grandbaby she always wanted. Nicky was alive. Just random shit that wasn’t supposed to be my life. Now I’m living it, minus my family, that is. Tia has been blowing my mind from the start. A year of dating her before I got her down the aisle should’ve been enough to make a believer out of me. Guess some fears are hard to release. “It’s not being a dad. I got that.” “Then what?” Chuckie asks. “She’s put a lot of trust in me, man, to become my wife, give me a kid. Tia hasn’t trusted any man enough to share all she’s given to me. And look at me. Who the fuck am I to deserve it?” “Mel, you fucking kidding? No man could summon the patience or be more obsessed than you when it comes to Tia. You two are perfect for each other.” “Nah, you missing my point. I used to read a lot in the pen. Think on all of it. Life, my life, the one I fucked up. The ‘do over’. See, the ‘do over’ is huge for a man in a cage. And though we walk out and aim for it, deep down inside, many of us never believe in it. Wasn’t looking for Tia. Not really. Just never truly believed I’d find the perfect woman. Hell yeah, I could dream about her, but never really find her, ya dig? Now? Now she’s mine and if I fuck up, I don’t know. I just can’t fuck up.” Chuckie listens now. I never speak on my time in jail. Not for him or Jackson trying. Guess they want to know if I killed the men, the ones I wasn’t charged with. Tia is the only person I confessed it all too. The only one I owe an explanation. I’d rip open my chest for her if I had to. Keeping it real, my time in jail isn’t one I like to reflect on often. I won’t even discuss it with the boys that I hire, to give them something positive when they hit the streets still institutionalized. But now, I guess I do need to talk to someone. “Go ’head. I’m listening.” Chuckie nods at my pause, mistaking it for hesitance.

“There’s a difference between us and them. I get that. I saw it in my moms. She was something else. I could remember when I was a kid and she was carrying Nicky, how I would sit and listen to her belly as he tumbled inside. How my pops would brag to strangers about his boys, and take care of mom. She wasn’t supposed to have a baby of her own. Doctors told her it wasn’t possible. I was four and even then I knew it was a miracle. Moms, Tia, Margie, women are the strongest of God’s creatures, the most sensitive. Forgiving. And when they’re pregnant, it’s like his divinity. I respect it. I also can’t help but remember that my mom—who was the most precious woman in the world to me, and saved my life, gave me a family—was broken because of me. I broke her spirit. Broke her bad.” “I suppose you entitled to see it that way.” Chuckie shrugs. “Considering what you’ve been through, what you did.” “I thought about my mom a lot when I was in jail. She wrote me every week. Forgave me immediately. Came to see me every month for a year before I could summon the courage to actually face her. Never gave up on me.” I feel my chest tighten. My throat goes dry and I try to ignore the frustration surfacing that makes me want to smash something. Chuckie and I settle into silence. My man here gets it. You can’t dismiss another’s pain, his burden, you just got to let him go through it. That’s how Chuckie and Jackson respect me. It’s how we relate. So it’s cool if we don’t say another fucking word on the subject. “Why do you think so much pain is put on them?” I ask. “Who are we talking about now?” “Women in general. Why so much pain put on our women?” Chuckie shrugs off the question, and I can tell I’m making him uncomfortable. If I pick at my own wound I might actually be picking at his, I suppose. “So much burden over holding the line, and getting none of the glory. For all my mom’s kindness and faith, she suffered so much pain before she died. For what? For just wanting to be a mother, that’s what. For giving me life, because she did. The moment she picked me up and held me, she gave me life. The one I almost pissed away.”

“Look, brutha. I’m sorry about your moms. It was foul what happened to your brother. Your mom forgave you because she knew deep down that you only acted out of pain. You can’t blame yourself when I’m sure she didn’t.” “It’s more than just blaming myself. Like I said, I thought it about it often. The struggles of women, all the effort we men go through to keep them silent—fuck, man—invisible in some nations. How much we take for granted. Every one of those fools in jail had a mother. Some of them didn’t know their mother, true, but it was far worse for those that did and fucked up their mother’s heart anyway. Can’t tell you how many chicks would show up to the jail with a baby in tow, trying to convince a little shortie that their dad is a good man. That he’ll be coming home soon. Sitting there listening to their bullshit and believing him. Then leaving, only to have another broad show up for the same fool the next day. I was doing the same thing. Telling moms that I would get out and help her, make it right. But just saying the words, never truly believing any of it, and I had so little time to prove it to her. Now I got Tia and I’m struggling, because she’s—she’s it for me. I lose her and it’s over. I got one shot at raising my kid right, loving my woman right. And I’m hoping I don’t fuck it up. But sometimes… sometimes I get this feeling that one day I will.” “I dig it. Your mom was golden. Women are the earth, and you worship yours. But why are you head-trippin’ now? What brought this all on? Is it Tia’s pregnancy?” “At our side.” “What?” Chuckie frowned. “You say they were the earth. I say it’s much simpler than that. They were supposed to rule at our side. Guess that’s why the devil chose Eve in the first place.” I look up at Chuckie, who frowns as if I’m speaking Hindu. “You know, to break that bond.” “Mel… get the fuck out of here!” “You don’t get where I’m coming from?”

“Not that I’m not trying here… but you’re talking in circles, man. No wonder Tia is all confused. What the fuck is the problem with just telling her that you want do this right?” “Tell her? Nah, can’t do that. Won’t stress Princess with my bullshit. My real problem is I think I’m still that man inside. Full of pride and entitlement. Even after all I’ve lost and all I’ve gained, sometimes I want to shut her down.” “Shut her down?” Chuckie chuckles. “No shit? Not going to happen.” I laugh. Because he’s right, Princess ain’t having it. “I want to lock her up and keep her all to myself. Hate her fucking job. How she works late there. Wish I had a leprechaun’s pot of gold so she won’t return to work. Random shit I struggle with, because, fuck. I don’t know. I can’t help it.” Chuckie nods. “Been there, brutha, wit’ Margie and that damn restaurant. Sometimes I want the place to burn to the ground when I see how tired and stressed out my baby is. But these Jackson women, you can’t control them. Tia would never go for you trying to housewife her.” “I wouldn’t take it that far. Not if she isn’t feeling it. But I’m not opposed to wanting the best for her, which is me, twenty-four-seven.” I shrug. Maybe I’m not making sense. This is the random stuff in my brain. Can’t expect my man to hear where I’m coming from when it’s wrapped up in me like a steel tie around my heart. I just can’t help it. “I guess I’m aware. And with awareness comes responsibility.” I drop my head, shaking it. Wiping my hands down my face, I’m weary of it all. Takes a lot out of me to dig that deep, into what scares the shit out of me and still gives me hope. I can’t dig deep enough to break myself down for my man here on why Tia’s pregnancy matters now more than ever. If I could, I wouldn’t have my baby stressing over me. I will admit that for the first time since I got out, I truly feel like I’m on the righteous path. That’s what my lady has done for me. She gave me a family. “And her pregnancy? Are you cool?”

“Giving me a kid, it’s like the greatest gift. You got six boys all in your image. Your seed. Gonna be here long after you gone. You see the divinity in that. Don’t you?” Chuckie tosses his now-empty beer bottle. “Yeah, I guess I do. Always did. But it don’t scare me. You twist on the wrong thing. Tia’s crazy about you, and your baby’s going to come into this world raising as much hell as your lady. Get out of your head and just roll with it. Feel me?” I drop down in the lawn chair and sigh. “Fucked up big in my life, and even her loving me don’t change that fact. God gave me a second chance. Not sure why, but he did. It’s my shot at redemption, brother. Make the way for the little man. Yeah, it’s a boy. I can feel it. A son. Gotta make him better than me. Keep him from his ego, from letting his pride take him under, from false promises out there in them fucking streets. ’Cause you and I both know how sexy it is to be king in those streets.” “You ain’t lying,” Chuckie agrees. “Just saying. Been responsible for a life before and I blew it. Fucked it up royally. My dad did the best he could and couldn’t save me. And my mom wept and prayed so hard that I guess that’s why I’m still here. What the fuck will I do to my kid if I don’t get it down half as good as my parents?” Chuckie looks off. His two oldest boys drive up. They’re laughing, carrying bags of McDonalds. Both wave and I nod. Chuckie just stares. “Danny is being hounded at USC. They want him to go pro. Second year in school and he can go in for first draft pick.” “Tia told me.” I nod again. “Margie and I can’t stop fighting about it. She wants him to stay in school. I want him on the gridiron, living out my dreams.” “What does Danny want?” “Never asked him. Just assumed. But now, you got a man thinking. He’s a good kid. I guess I had a hand in that. But he’s not me. He has a future, and it doesn’t necessarily have to be running the ball. That’s what Margie was trying to tell

me, but I dismissed it. I dismissed her. Feeling like a fool for treating her like that.” He looks at me with awareness, a light of understanding that wasn’t there before. “Talk to her. Hell, if anybody can get where you coming from, Tia can.” “Tried. Like I said, it’s my shit. I’ll deal. Look, I talked to you and I barely made any sense.” “Yeah, well I get where you coming from. Something is divine about how strong they are. What Margie does with this family, brutha, you just don’t know. Worries the hell out of me, cause she doesn’t know how to stop. I can only say that being a dad isn’t something you just automatically know. It just happens. You learn. And if Tia is your Nefertiti, then you got half the battle won, right?” “Yea, my Nefertiti.” I smile. “Oh, damn! She’s home waiting. I got to go.” “Hey.” Chuckie grabs my arm as I pass him. “Take it easy. She pops out that kid and it’s Margie’s baby anyway.” Chuckie grins, folding his arms across his chest. I can’t help but smile, because it’s true. “Catch you later.” “Later…” *** I’m so tired of waiting… Where is he? He knew I made this dinner. Finished it this morning before church and running with my sisters from mall to mall. He called and said he was on his way, but that was over thirty minutes ago. I pace by the sink. My eyes are on the phone waiting for it to ring. Maybe he stopped at the store to get his beer. I should have told him that I picked up a pack for him. In fact, I got everything ready for him. Today is our special day, after all. Our first month anniversary. Time just flies when you’re this happy. Stores close early on Sunday, so he didn’t make a stop. He should be here by now. The alarm on the stove dings. Scares the crap out of me. Grabbing the oven mitt, I pull out the fresh-baked crescent rolls. The house smells good, homey, and

dinner looks good. I’m getting better at cooking, thanks to Margie’s recipes and Mel being my inspiration. He loves to cook for me, but he’s let me do it more and more. I can remember the first plate I put before him. He ate with a smile but kept drinking beer after beer. I didn’t realize but I accidently used cayenne pepper instead of paprika. But he never complained. It’s stuff like that, that makes me want to take care of him. He deserves it. Tonight’s dinner was made with special care. I’m pretty pleased with myself. I wonder what surprise he has for me? The door closes to the front of the house. Dropping the serving spoon in the macaroni, I’m rubbing my hands together. “Baby, I’m in here,” I call out to him. He walks in and smiles. “Hi.” “Hi!” Walking into his arms is the first thing I do. Giving him the kiss I’ve been holding for him all day is the next. Can taste the barley on his breath, and the mint he used to cover it. His skin is warm, which means he’s been outside. For March, it sure was a muggy day. “Where you been?” “Chuckie and Margie’s,” he says. Cupping my face in his hands, he kisses me between my brows. “How you feeling?” “Good. Dinner’s ready.” Holding onto his hand, I lead him to the feast I prepared. All his favorite, unhealthy foods. He glances at the table, then me, with a look of confusion. “What’s all this? We having company?” “Huh?” He squeezes my butt. “Good girl. Food looks yummy. Thank you, babe. I’m starving.” Then he kisses my cheek and pops me on the ass before walking away. “Where you going?” “To wash up. Fix my plate? Be right back.” And he’s gone. That’s it? No happy anniversary, no flowers from the shop? Nothing? What the hell is that ‘fix his plate’ crap? We got the rest of lives for it to just be some routine with us. Plus look at me, all domestic and stuff. It’s hard work. Hell, lately I’ve been running around here like Martha Stewart, with this stupid apron on. Snatching it off, I throw it on the table and huff. Now I’m pissed. I march in the

kitchen and get the rolls and macaroni that complete dinner, and drop them on the table. I pull back the chair and plop down. And wait. I’m getting angrier by the minute. I don’t get men. What’s important to them? Never the little things that matter to us. Why is it we have to remind them of every detail? Here he comes. All smiles like he’s the King and I’m his servant or something. Sitting down, he winks at me and starts dumping the food on his plate. He rushes through some half-lipped prayer, then just eats. “Good, babe. Thank you,” he grunts. “Mmhmm,” I answer, folding my arms and watching him. And he just eats, drinks, makes me want to turn the gravy dish over his head. Screw this, I got work to do anyway. If today is just any other day, then why waste it? “Where you going?” he asks with a mouthful, eyes stretched and questioning. “Eat. You don’t need me for that. I have work to do.” He protests, but too bad. He’s working a nerve and before I wipe that stupid grin off his face with the hard truth of how he’s pissed me off, I think some space will save us both. I head to my office. It used to be his mother’s office when she ran the business we now own. He converted it for me. I also have the basement all to myself for my workout equipment. So much of the house is mine. I thought it nice to build him an extra room—his game room. See, that’s why I don’t get how he can be so blind to things at times. He can be so giving and caring in other times. Last thing I want to do is spend our one-month anniversary on my laptop going over financials for the company’s marketing campaign. But if I stay around him, I’m just going to pout, or these damn hormones will have me crying and looking stupid. Hell. I touch my face and find the tears on my fingertips. I’m crying anyway. ***

Okay, so she’s pissed. How? What did I do? Rewinding it back, I got nothing. Christ, I just got home. Came in the door. She’s waiting for me. Wait. She was dressed in one of those sundresses I like. This time it was the blue one. She didn’t have it on when she went to church, so she put it on for me? Hmm? She’s cooked all this damn food. I think she’s cooked everything in the kitchen. I saw it this morning. Thought it was something for Margie. But it’s all for me? Think. Think. Think. What the fuck did I do? If I get up and ask her what’s wrong, it’ll ruin the night, and I won’t get any loving. Just a bunch of attitude. I better figure this out quick. What now? *** The phone rings and I snatch it up first. “Hello!” “What’s wrong with you?” Margie asks. “Nothing. What you need?” “I know you and Mel are celebrating, but I wanted to know if you told him about St. Patrick’s Day yet, cause maybe we can—” “No, Margie. Screw St. Patrick’s Day. He forgot our anniversary.” Margie goes silent. I can’t stop the tears from falling. It’s so damn silly and frustrating, but I don’t own my body or my heart since I fell for this man. “You kidding, right?” Margie asks. “No I am not kidding. How could he be so damn clueless? I’m pregnant and he acts like he’s some caveman up in here. Just eating and grunting at me. He doesn’t even care what I’m going through. Pisses me off. I’m a successful career woman, not this Susie Homemaker crap! I’ve given up every damn thing and he’s just some—” “Cut it out!” Margie snaps, shocking me into silence. Sniffing, wiping my tears, I hold my tongue. Which ain’t easy, because I got plenty I want to say on the subject.

“Tia, you can work a nerve, girl. And don’t you dare say it’s your hormones, because it’s just straight up you being a brat.” “I am not!” “Oh, hush! You there pouting over a day that you made important. Who the hell celebrates their first month anniversary? Y’all ain’t been married but four weeks.” “It’s none of your business.” “I’m making it my business, before you do something stupid and fight over something that won’t mean a thing in the morning.” “You can’t say that to me. You can’t say what’s important to me and my husband. Margie, back off! It may be silly to you but I wanted this day. It’s not stupid to me.” “And you expect the man to just read your mind? At least clue Mel in to your wacky ideas. I’ve been married a long—” “Whatever, I don’t want to hear it—” “A long time! You listen to me!” Again I suck in my bottom lip and hold my tongue. “What the hell is wrong with you? You two just got back from Jamaica three weeks ago. The man has been killing himself trying to play catch-up from spoiling your ass and you… girl… I’m telling you right now, don’t you dare blame this one on hormones. You’re acting nutty!” “Well forgive me, okay. I went from never dating or… well, never being in love to falling for Melvin, getting pregnant, and married all in a year. I might get it wrong sometimes, but it don’t mean I’m being selfish. Hell, I cooked for him.” “For a reward,” Margie added. “From what I hear, he does all the cooking.” “So what? He likes to cook for me and he gets a reward every night. A thank you and happy anniversary won’t break the bank around here.” “Oh, Tia.” “Whatever, I’m the bad guy. I get it. Just whatever. I got to go.” “Wait,” Margie begs.

“What is it? More of you telling me how undeserving I am?” I’m holding tight to the phone. But I really want her to slam it down. Tell her to just leave me alone. I don’t need her smothering me with marital advice. And again, it’s none of her business. “Tell Mel what today is. You know if you tell him that you wanted to celebrate, he’ll make it right.” “Forget it. You’re right. It was stupid. I got work to do. Call you tomorrow.” “Tia. Drop the attitude, hun. Chuckie had a talk with him today. Mel’s really—” “Gotta go. Bye.” She says something else, but I end the call and close my eyes. I’m all over the place. And though it’s irrational, I’m feeling really invisible right now. This is going to be a long nine months. *** “Princess?” She looks up at me and rolls her eyes, then back to her computer screen. I can tell she’s been crying. Here we go. “Can I talk to you?” “Busy,” she mumbles, pecking away at that keyboard. I close the door behind me, not that it matters. It’s just me and her. Damn, I hate when she gives me the attitude. It happens infrequently enough for me to deal, though. “It’ll only take a moment. C’mon baby, give me that moment.” She looks up again. She’s so beautiful now, glowing. It’s those eyes that had a man ready to propose after our first night together. Now I can dig why Napoleon went bat-shit over Josephine. When you love a woman as much as I love her, it can push you closer to insanity. Keeping my hand behind my back, I approach her slowly, making sure she’s prepared to smile. “You mad at me?” “No,” she says, her voice tight with tension.

“Well, I’m mad at me.” She glares. Anger notwithstanding, her hold on me just from a look makes me want to behave. Get back in on her good side. “Been running in circles lately. Not taking care of home, huh, baby?” She rises. Stirs the air, and I get another whiff of her, so I inhale slowly. Can’t name a flower that smells any sweeter. “It’s okay. You’ve been busy,” she pouts. “Not too busy for you. C’mere.” Tia takes my hand and comes closer. Some of that frost falls off her as she does. She presses that warm, soft body of hers into mine and melts both our defenses. Gotta admit, I like making up a whole lot better than fighting. “You wearing this dress for me?” I whisper into her ear. “Mmhmm,” she says, her face resting square in the middle of my chest. “I like it. Can I take it off you?” “Stop!” She giggles at my attempt to unzip the back. When I nip her cheek, she relaxes. She holds on to me, soft and sexy, and I want more of her. Makes a man crazy with need, so I drop my head into the side of her neck and inhale deep, take a big hit off what’s mine, and all that stuff I told Chuckie earlier doesn’t matter. What matters is her placing her head near my heart and believing in me. She chose me. I need to just deal with that blessing and accept it. “Turn around, Princess. I have something for you.” She steps back. Her eyes big and sexy, she looks at me with love. The kind I can trust in. I nod for her to follow my instruction. “Yeah, baby. Do as I say.” “Okay.” *** He comes right up against me. I can feel the last of my anger evaporate. What woman could stay mad at this man? Maybe Margie was right. How can I punish my Melvin for something as silly as this? Especially if I didn’t tell him. Even if it’s not the

hormones, this relationship stuff doesn’t get easier, and getting married you just want things to be stronger, better. I need to slow down and ease into our life together. “Lift your hair,” he whispers, brushing his lips from my ear to my cheek, then planting a kiss to the corner of my mouth. What’s he doing? Takes extreme effort on my part to resist temptation and turn and question him, but I don’t. I lift my hair instead, holding my locks to the back of my head. His kisses brush the back of my neck softly, sending tickles down my spine. “Happy anniversary, baby,” he says. A silver necklace descends in front of me and goes around my neck. It has a floating heart pendant. It’s so dainty and sweet. The sweetest treat from my tough guy. “You remembered?” “Bought it on our honeymoon. I intended to give it to you today, just got all mixed up.” He would’ve finished the rest of the tale if my tongue weren’t down his throat. I’m kissing him hard. My arms lock in around his neck as I force him back, running my fingers up into his hair. He holds me and eases our kiss to a manageable place. A delicious slow swirl of his tongue sweeps inside my mouth. He lays claim to it. Owns it, like only he could. I love kissing him. Who knew I’d like it so much? There’s such meaning in each kiss with us that it feels like I’m taking a dose of him to my heart, and it’s got me wide open for him. Mel holds my face, draws back. Our lips part, but the feeling, that feeling, is all through me. “Talk to me when you’re disappointed, please. We’re better than that. Okay?” “Sorry,” I blush. I am embarrassed. What else can I say? “I guess it’s—” “Your hormones. Yeah, I get it.” He breathes heavily, as if the mere fact that we are so close but not close enough is draining him. I can see his eyes bouncing from mine, to my lips, down to my breasts, then back up again. He’s trying to decide if he should take me right there. I’ll decide for him.

“Now, can we have dinner? I can’t eat alone. Don’t make me,” he begs, and I know he really wanted to ask for something else instead. “Is that what you want?” I look him straight in the eyes while running my hand down to his groin. His eyes lower. There’s a warning in the lustful look he gives me. I know better than to tease him when he’s riding this close to the edge. “It’s your anniversary, baby,” I start, giving him a double-shot of pop kisses to his mouth. Then I smile. “You do know you can get it as much as you please?” That’s it. The last of his resistance snaps. He kisses me again and it’s a complete ravishment of my mouth. His hands drop to my shoulders and squeeze as I’m brought hard up against him. His tongue does battle with my own, and trust me, I already know who the victor will be. Feeling naughty, bold and sexy, I shove him off. We can do it sweet and tender upstairs. I got other plans. He’s breathing hard, his brows creased deep and his green eyes sparkle like cut glass, search mine for an answer. “You like this dress, don’tcha, honey?” I smirk, stepping back. He doesn’t answer, just rubs his jaw, staring directly at me. So I reach under and grab my panty, rolling the trim down my hips. When they drop to my ankles, I step out of the lacy pair and throw them at him. Mel catches them, then presses the lace to his face and inhales, never taking his eyes off me. Reaching behind my neck, I undo the three hook snaps to the top of the dress. I let it fall so I can massage my aching breasts for him. My nipples are so taut, it’s as if each had been licked by Casper himself. Standing before him now, I’m shivering with excitement. I’m talking about shivering all over, I want him so bad. “What you waiting for? You want to go eat your dinner, or get some dessert right now?” He drops my panties and stalks over toward me. Turning to face my office desk, I drop my palms on scattered papers and pens just as he reaches me. Mel is pressing the bulge trapped behind his zipper between my butt cheeks. Hands, long fingers, large and strong, slide down my thighs. He gathers up the skirt. The silky fabric is tossed up over my back. He lovingly strokes my bare ass, searing every inch

with the delicious warmth of his caress. Then his fingers walk down further to do a little play, a twist-and-turn of my clitoris that has my mouth gaping in a silent cry of pleasure. “You like that?” he rasps. “Oh, yes.” Next comes the slow descent of his zipper. As the metal teeth separate, I dip my back hoping to get the best of him soon, before I drop to my knees and beg for it. But he takes care of me. Teases me with the smooth tip of his cockhead, causing spasms below to extend to the bundle of nerves gathered in my clit. All of it is a rush to my head that has me pushing back against him, wanting to go further. Desperate for him. Then it comes. Hot. Heat in the form of thick flesh pierces deep, in such a forceful fusion that he makes all our pent-up desires escape our mouths with a cry of unchained passion. Mel grips one shoulder and holds tight to my hip to steady me. As he works in and out, I can really feel him now. And my lids flutter shut, ’cause the harder he pumps into me, the more pleasure pools and drips from me. He’s keeping me in position as his thrusting gets more demanding. I’m grateful, ’cause my arms quiver, threatening to give out. *** Oh, Tia… This pussy I can’t get enough of gives way to tight gripping seizures that’s got me dropping my head back and stifling a cry of my own for mercy. Nothing should feel this good. Working in and out of her slick channel, I’m about to let go, man. She’s draining my willpower, testing me each time she moves her sweet, round ass. I feel like I’m burning to death from within. “More Mel… more,” she says, no matter how hard and strong my thrusts are. Damn, baby, stop it, ’cause I might hurt you.

Trying hard not to lose control, I guide us there by understanding her threshold. Still, there’s something primal in me that wants to bludgeon this pussy, I crave it so bad. Getting so good to me, I want beat on it for eternity. Never let her up. When she clenches her ass and tightens it down there for me, I nearly lose it. She lets her voice go with no shame and I’m damn near weeping cause my pride is all in my dick. I’m nearly whimpering with her. Yes, it feels that good. My head drops forward and I’m up against her, holding to her hips, ready to explode. ’Cause it feels that good. *** “You ready?” She asks the question for the tenth time. Says she bought it in the mall today. Got me lying here in bed, rock-hard and wanting her so bad. No choice but to wait, though. We ate dinner, and afterwards got on the sofa in front of the television. I handed over the remote. It is her day, after all. Had to suffer through Dancing with the Stars. It’s cool, though. Eventually, when the damn show demolished the last nerve I had, she was so giddy from her gift, I got my reward. I flipped her on the couch and made love to her. Legs bent back and her just hungry for me, I swear it just kept getting better and better. Then we showered and I’m hard as hell thinking about taking her again. But Princess wants to talk, runs her mouth a mile a minute. Tells me about her day and how her sisters picked on Sherry, some shit about sales she found at stores and dresses she wants to model. She stops and giggles, fondling her necklace, asking me again and again where I bought it and how I kept it hidden. I half-listen, just keep soaping her up and getting in some feels and kisses to the sound of her never-ending voice. When she looks to me for an answer, all I have to do is nod and I’m back in the conversation. In case you haven’t guessed it by now, my Princess loves to talk.

Now I’m ready for more. Get the real reward for being a good hubby and remembering. ’Cause in our bed I can lay up in it and let that hot sticky heat rock my ass to sleep. But she’s all worked up over her surprise for me so I play along. She hasn’t come down from the excitement of our day, I suppose. I have to confess, I pulled a fast one on my lady. Feel a little guilty about that. But a man was desperate, and the reward? Hell no, I wasn’t passing on my reward even if I cheated on the test. In the kitchen I saw the date on the calendar circled with a heart. Princess marks off every day that’s important to her. Little habit of hers she barely notices. She knew she was pregnant before it could show up on the doctor’s test results. She’s that organized. So when she copped an attitude, I immediately checked that kitchen calendar for a clue. Why it took until then for me to figure it out, I don’t know. My head just ain’t in it with all the other bullshit I’ve been focused on. Now, what I told her was true. I did buy the necklace in the islands for this day. So that counts, right? “C’mon baby, don’t keep me waiting.” What is she doing in there? “You ready?” “Yes, Princess. Would you let me see it?” “Here I come.” She sticks a sexy leg out first. Is it some freaky lingerie? Not really needed with me. But it’s nice when your woman takes the time to package it for you. Problem is, that expensive stuff she buys has all those little tiny hooks and snaps that I can never find. And she gets all pissed off when I just rip it apart. The rest of her remains concealed behind the door, and I have to reach under the covers and rub the ache out of my cock, ’cause just the sight of her thigh has it jumping. “Tia, come out and let me see it.” “Tah dah!” she says.

Naked from neck to toe. Brown curves smoothed to flawless perfection under a green leprechaun’s hat with a four-leaf clover in the middle. What the hell? It’s a hat? She walks in, giving me a complete view of every delicious part of her. She pulls the hat down low on her head, concealing her eyes. “You like it? It’s a St. Patrick’s Day hat, right?” “Yeah, I like it a lot,” I say, licking my lips, focusing on her tits. “It’s cute, huh?” she bounces and so do they. They’re much fuller now. My mouth is watering for a taste. “Mel!” “Huh?” I force my eyes up to her face. She’s pointing at the clover at the center of the hat. I frown at it. “Its cool, baby. Why don’t you turn around so I can… so I can see the back of it?” She turns. Hands to hips, gives me a view that sets me to drooling. Crazy, I know. Got every inch of her burned into my memory, still the real deal is what a man lives for. Should make it a fucking law up in here that she wears nothing but that hat whenever we’re home. She looks back over her shoulder. Still can’t see her eyes, but she’s got a sexy smirk to her lips. “I saw it today and thought it’s perfect for you. You know it’s going to be St. Patrick’s Day soon. On the 17th.” “Yeah, I know. Thank you, sexy. Come over here.” “I would have found a green negligee to match—” “Come here,” I say, reaching for her, hoping she will stop talking about the damn hat. She grins and finally gives a man a break and comes to bed. Drops on her palms, knee pressed into the mattress, she crawls toward me on all fours. Stopping, she stares at me again, grinning as if she’s done something good. Baby don’t know. She could have had on Mickey Mouse ears and I would be just as excited. Her breasts are hanging and swaying above me and I’m ready to suck on the juicy points until they melt on my tongue.

But she denies me the pleasure. Lowering her face, the hat presses into my chest as she dips her tongue in my navel, then runs the tip of it along the hairs that trail dangerously low. I reach to take off her hat so I can fix her thick hair like I like it, but she knocks my hand away. She draws the sheet down with her teeth, her lips grazing my jumping cock. “Aww yeah, I like that,” I say, smirking. She looks up and damn it, I can’t see her eyes but I know she’s winking at me. The sheet slips away, uncovering how much desire I have burning in my loins for her right now. “Mmmm...” she moans, and I’m hers. All hers. Hell, I say let’s celebrate every month this way. Warmth, wet and inviting, covers the head of my cock. Her tongue flattens and goes down the length and I swear I might go damn insane, it feels so good. Baby takes me in like I taught her. Hell, she’s an Ivy League graduate. Didn’t have to show her what I like but once. Since then, she’s experimented and showed me what she likes. It’s none of your business how good that is. Her mouth goes over in a smooth glide, but her jaws are tight, making the descent marvelous. Half of me in, she gives a squeeze and every muscle in me locks down. She’s holding my shaft and my balls clench as her head bobs. When my eyes stop rolling into my skull and I manage to focus, all I can see is the top of the hat. She sucks, pulls, and swallows me until I’m bucking. “Damn baby… give a man fighting chance,” I hear myself pleading. Sounds like she’s chuckling. I can’t tell. I just know that I won’t give in, not yet, no matter how weak she makes me. With her fingers tightly ringed around my cock and her mouth and jaws pumping and working me, I’m telling you I’m losing the battle quick. “Tia!!” Her head comes up. She looks at me with a wicked glint in her eyes and a matching grin to her lips. “C’mere,” I grunt, reaching for her. Ready to get in and hit that spot on the downstroke that’ll make her behave.

“No,” she laughs, trying to get away. And she’s fast. Now Princess wants to play. Now? For a pregnant lady, she has more energy than a marathon runner. She’s wearing me out. Tia’s off the bed, making a dash for the bathroom, where she’ll make me beg for it. Not tonight. No time for these damn games. I’m quicker than her. Grunting, I catch her before she hits the bathroom door and carry her back to the bed. She’s kicking and laughing, with the hat casting the top half of her face in shade. So I toss her to the bed. She bounces, then flips over, trying to crawl away. “C’mere!” Grabbing her ankle, I drag her back and the hat comes off. Her hair’s wild. “Wait!! My hat.” “Fuck the hat,” I groan, getting on the bed with her. I bend back her knees and dip my nose between the lips of her sex just to inhale her. She’s fixing the cap on her head as I part those chocolate thighs wider. What is with her and the damn hat? “I got an idea, Mel, a surprise for St. Patty’s Day. Want to hear it? You’re going to love this.” “Not now, baby.” A lick at her center, and she quiets. She tastes tangy. Her wetness and scent has me damn near hyperventilating. Princess is ready for me and I’m ready for more. She throws her legs over my shoulders and I’m pushing them back into her. Then I get on her, ’cause I’ma have to be selfish on this. I can’t wait. “No more talking. Unless you telling me how to get this pussy any way I want it.” She smiles and nods like a good girl. I got her now. Rubbing against those thick lips of her sex, my dick makes them part and I can get up against that wet heat. I can barely catch my breath, is how much I want to get up inside of her. She has that damn hat on and won’t take it off, so it’s hard to kiss her. I do so anyway, cupping the back of her neck so her head lifts and tilts. ***

I’d do anything for him in this moment. That’s how strong his hold on my heart is. I can feel the erratic beat of his pulse in his cock as it rubs up against me. I want him so bad I’m damn near reaching between us to help him find his way. No need. His hips lift and out of instinct he angles his dick at my opening and the impact is so sinfully delicious I’m whimpering while my tongue sweeps over his in his mouth. As soon as he goes deep, I nearly lose my mind. The ways he makes me feel, I can’t love this man enough. He’s never one to rush, no matter how much he wants to. He’s going in slow and I can feel his entire body tremble with restraint as he yearns to give into deeper penetration. But he measures each inch, working his hips to make sure I get the most of him too. And keeping in time, I give as good as I get. The sound he releases when he sinks in deeper nearly makes me cum. I’m moving up into him, working my ass like a wave. He kisses my face, his hands going under me to my buttocks and he’s squeezing tight as he’s nipping at my earlobe and then sucking the sting away. His skin is like liquid heat as it slides up against mine. I work against him, moving my ass, helping with his descent, ’cause my sweetie still ain’t given me all of it. And the motion makes him lose control. Finally, he takes the plunge, filling me with him. “Yes, Mel. I need you. I want more.” “I got this, Princess. I plan to give you just that.” “Then what you waiting for?” I groan in frustration. Throwing my hips back up at him, I work every muscle I got below to break him and make him really fuck me. The way I know he can. My actions don’t go unnoticed. The moan that escapes him washes through my bloodstream, exciting me to the point that I’m caught up in an endless swirl of ecstasy. “Damn.” He pants and I know he’s reached his limit. Thrusts are now hard and strong. He scoops me under and brings me into his arch as he’s pumping harder and harder. He can barely look at me, but I can see him, face tight, sweat coming down the

bridge of his nose. My name rumbles deep in his chest as he’s pounding into me. The words barely escape his lips. All of it how I like it. We drop again on the bed and his ass is rising and falling, causing me to take him deeper and deeper. “Yeesss…” And my voice dies as he’s thrusting his tongue in and out of my mouth in time with his cock taking complete ownership of me. “Yes, baby, that’s more like it. Hit it like you want it.” *** She loves torturing her man. And I love how uninhibited she is in our marital bed. Rising up, I take the time to gaze upon my love. Her mouth glistens where remnants of our kiss remain, and her gaze smolders dark and soulful. My hands caress the perfect roundness of her ass, grip both halves, and part them so I can open her more to my deep thrusts. ’Cause I have to get it all. Every damn inch of me has to get inside of this hot sweetness. My eyes on her face. Hers are closed. I’m giving it to her harder and harder and she doesn’t utter a word of complaint. She just parts those knees wider and throws it back at me blow for mother-fuck-ing blow. Damn! Princess loves me right. “Yeah baby, that’s it. Move for me.” She’s so cute in the hat—nah, she’s sexy in the hat. And I think I prefer she wear it to bed instead of that headscarf. I’m on the case, ready to take her there. Every muscle in my shoulders, back, hips, and ass instantly unite toward the singular goal of complete leverage, as I slam into her hard enough to knock her head back. She cries out, and I’m wearing her out because I got to. Wouldn’t be her man if I didn’t do it and do it again and again. Taking her there, I ain’t sparing her no mercy. Fuck that. She wants it, Princess is going to get it until she knows better. Fuck mercy, pussy is mine! I can’t even talk her through it, ’cause it’s got such a hold on me. Pumping victoriously, I feel her pussy twitching under the invasion, hear her moaning and panting louder

and louder, and I know we’re building to her end. Her end and mine, ’cause a man can only take so much. She clings to me, absorbing every thrust. The heat between us, with the combined chants of ecstasy as every fiber in our being joins, sends us both over the edge. I squeeze her ass tight and draw down hard on my bottom lip to keep from biting her as I feel the multiple orgasms we share in this final release. “Woman, I can’t stand it. The things you do to me…” I groan, unable to pull out. She rubs my back. “Happy anniversary.” *** “Mel?” It’s dark in the room. How long have we slept? I never fall asleep that fast. Wow, he really gave me something tonight. Turning, I shove him off me. He’s in too close. “Mel.” “Hmm… what’s wrong?” He moans and looks at me with barely opened eyes. “I want to talk to you.” “Tia, baby, what time is it?” “It’s just 3 or 4. I dunno. Wake up.” Propping up the side of my face in the dark, I can see his. He’s frowning, so I rub his chest and wait for him to do as I ask. He groans and pushes up on the pillows, giving me my way. “What does St. Patrick’s Day mean? I mean, why is there one?” “Tia.” “You never told me. I should have asked you earlier, but we were kind of busy celebrating.” I smile. “Tell me?” “Catholic day… holiday,” he moans. “You’re not Catholic.”

Then he stares at me. I can tell he’s irritated. I kiss him softly. “What does it mean, baby? I need to understand so I can—” “Good grief, woman!” he snaps. He drops his arm over his eyes. “St. Patrick is the patron saint of Ireland. He was a pagan that was sold into slavery, and then found God.” “Slavery? Really?” “Yeah. Now go to sleep.” “Wait!” I’m shaking his arm and he cuts me another mean look. I smile and straddle him. I know he’s tired, but I don’t have much time to plan our evening if I don’t know what we’re doing. It feels good sitting on his lap. He groans but doesn’t complain much after that. “Who told you all this? I mean, you aren’t Catholic and…” “My moms met my birth mother during the adoption. She wanted to know more about me, I guess. She was only seventeen when she had me. Said she had thick curly brown hair and deep green eyes, face full of freckles.” “Like these?” I ask, tracing the invisible ones on his cheek that you have to get closer than any woman should ever be to my guy to see. He takes my finger into his mouth and smiles. “Yeah, like these. She was from Limerick. Or her people were. That’s what she told my mom. So…” He yawns and tries to pull me down on him. I knock his hands away. “Go on.” I’m riveted. He never told me any of this. I just assumed he didn’t know anything about his birth mother. “Moms told me about St. Patrick’s Day. She liked the day ’cause St. Patrick returned to Ireland and converted many pagans to Christianity.” “Then why everybody get all drunk and crazy on the day?” “Secular… come on baby, let me sleep,” he says, again trying to pull me down. “How did you celebrate it then?” “Why? What?”

“Just answer me. Please. How did you and your mother celebrate? You didn’t share a green beer, right?” “Nah, we had our own thing. She said that in Ireland you are supposed to honor your roots by planting a rose with a name reminiscent of the Auld Sod. We’d plant one in the garden out back together and we grew some clovers. She’d bake a green cake—shit, why are you asking me all this?” “Old Sod,” I repeat. “What does that mean?” “It means if you don’t let me go to sleep, you’re going to force me to hold you hostage in this room all day to make it up to me.” I smile. “I want to celebrate.” “Fine. I’ll make you dinner,” he says. “Corned beef and cabbage.” “Un-uh. I want to go to the parade. For us to take off and go on the North Side, where the river gets green.” “Whatever you want, baby,” he yawns, pulling at me. “I want to go to The Shamrock.” His eyes flip open. They’re hard and questioning. I already see the ‘no’ Margie predicted he’d say on his face. “I want you to take me, Mel. I’m serious.” Before he can answer, I give him a kiss, and when he tries to object I give him some early-morning loving until he’s drifting again to sleep in my arms. I can’t wait. We’re going to have so much fun!

Chapter Two

Believe it or not, rainy days are my favorite. Dark clouds, hail, high winds: bring it on. If you’re shut-in, forced to ward off loneliness or depression or just the boredom of solitude, flowers are the cure. Think on it. What else can cost so little, but deliver the biggest payoff? Grant you entry through a closed door when your woman is too pissed to consider giving you another chance. Say ‘I love you’ when the gift of gab fails you, ’cause you gotta go deeper than a man’s ego can sometimes allow. Encourage, give, comfort, celebrate, shit, you name it––flowers can do it up right. And on a rainy day like today, who doesn’t want to be pushed up on his lady, wrapped in her warmth, head to her breast, sweet smell of her pulling a man down to where he know he belongs. Put a rose in her hand and a sincere promise to love her right, your woman won’t dare turn you away on a day like today. I’m a flower guy. Took me a long time to accept it. Thought myself too much of a man to consider it. Not until I was locked down and couldn’t feel the baby-soft silkiness of a single petal or get a hit of a new bloom––for five long years––did I understand it. But I am. And now with a family of my own and a little soldier ready to join the battle with me, I’m more than that. I’m a businessman. So yeah, let it rain. Let it keep raining, fuck, bring on a tsunami. I want the payday. Tia’s been angling to do more. I’m fighting her hard on it. Compromise? Yeah, we compromised. She gets the groceries, decorates the place with all this damn furniture she barely sits on, and buys a bunch of those expensive dresses and suits that show those legs. Oh yeah, and the shoes. Baby loves buying shoes, and she got a pair in there that I… well let’s just say I like her buying shoes. Spend her money as she like, long as it ain’t to hold up this castle. ’Cause I want to provide for my family. I don’t give a damn if they pay in her diamonds in that downtown firm: I’m the man that’ll put them on her fingers and neck. Ya dig?

The door opens. My eyes lift from the day’s work at the sound of the chimes announcing the next customer. I’m elbow-deep in green tea roses, clover, orchids, green and gold ribbons, all for St. Patty’s Day. A customer would be a welcome distraction. At this point my fingertips are numb from being nicked by thorns or sheers. The customer turns and my eyes narrow on the sight before me. Sylvia. She brings the rain, wind, the heady smell of thunderclouds with her. It blows through my spot, ruffling the leaves and bending the stems of the arrangements on display at the front of the store. Shaking off the rain, slick over her raincoat, she closes a pink and brown polka-dot umbrella. Her usually blonde hair that’s always teased high is limp, a dull shade of yellow. It rests on her shoulders. She smiles at a few shoppers, her eyes searching. They find me. What the hell is she doing here? “Mel. Hey!” She waves, crossing past the shamrock vases with green Mylar balloons. You can always figure what holiday it is in my spot. Sylvia eyes some of it and makes her way over to me, side-stepping a customer, popping fluorescent pink gum. Always with the damn gum. It rolls over her tongue by the wild way she chomps on it, her mouth opening and closing. Again I’m looking her over, trying to understand the visit. Not since two years ago has she even made a trip this far south. Kind of prefer it that way. “Sweetie, you have no idea how nasty it is out there!” She stops before the counter, heaving a sigh from the short travel. Battle-worn from the storm, her drenched appearance does nothing to diminish the light in her eye, as she looks me over. Yeah, I know that look, and it’s trouble. Sylvia’s attractive. Not my type, though. Too blonde, too thin, too pale, too willing to please. They claim a man marries his mother. That’s bullshit, but close. Even I can’t help but wonder if Sylvia would be more appealing with her perky tits, petite waistline, and movie-star blue eyes if I wasn’t Elaine Reed’s son. “The place looks good. Wow, I haven’t been here since… since before you got pinched.” “How’s it going, Syl?”

“Same. Not much changes with us. I hear plenty has changed with you, though?” I give her a look, then return my attention to the routine detail of trimming the arrangement before me. “We miss you. Everybody’s asking about you. It’s been months since you came out our way.” I turn away, poking in the drawer for the right knife. “I hear you married her.” I can hear a tinge of envy in her voice. “Her name is Tia, and yes. We’re married.” My vexation is evident in the way I clip the stem too high. I need to chill. “Right, Tee-aah.” She chuckles to cover my annoyance and gives me a sly grin. When my eyes lift and narrow on her, her smile fades. “Tee-aah don’t like beer? I don’t get it. She’s welcome too. You know that.” Fuck this. Turning away, I drop the orchids in the vase and arrange the stems. She moves in closer, leaning forward on the counter that divides us. Sylvia needs to state her business before I lose interest altogether. “Married, huh?” she clips, in that sultry voice that usually has the fellas at The Rock drooling. “Never figured you the marrying type, Melvin.” Can feel her eyes on me. When I turn back around, her arms are crossed and she’s poised for some type of explanation. As if I owe her one. You’ve got to be kidding me? Never even hit it. Oh, she’s offered, but instinct told me not to even dabble. Check her out, though. You’d think I gave her the pipe on the regular the way honey is eyeing me. Why do women do that? Mark territory that ain’t even theirs? Shit. Truth be told, I’m guilty of the same. Princess didn’t know it, but when she gave me that first kiss, she was mine. I would’ve took another playa out that tried to get closer. Just didn’t know she’d agree so quickly. And there you have it. The longer Sylvia stays and wants to reminisce, the more I’m missing my woman. “Look, I’m busy.” “Too busy to catch up? I came all the way down here to see you, you gonna just show me out?”

I nod. Wait. Again a pause lingers between us. “What about St. Patty’s Day?” “Patty’s Day, huh? That’s what this is about?” It must be the fucking twilight zone. First, Princess is acting weird talking about The Shamrock. The things that pop in that woman’s head still amaze me. She doesn’t even know the place and now she’s set on going. Not going to happen. Now I get a visit at my business. I kept my life with the Reeds apart from the friends I made years back on the North Side. Kept it from the Donnellys until Nicky got hit. “Tomorrow’s St. Patty’s Day,” she reminds me. “I know.” “Boss, the Easter lilies?” Alejandro asks. Made him assistant manager and he’s been really working hard for me lately. Kind of proud of him. “Cold room three,” I answer, never taking my eyes off of Sylvia’s blue ones. “Abel sent you?” “You know it. Last year you were celebrating with us like you won the Lotto. It was good, remember? We had a great time. But we’ve had all kinds of things… I mean, parties, and you haven’t stopped by once. You know how we do it, Melvin. Abel told me.” “Told you what?” “Why you were all celebratory last year. Tee-aah. She the one that had you so—so happy.” “Yeah. She’s still on the job. So tell him I’ll pass.” “C’mon Melvin. Everybody’s there. Entire neighborhood coming out. We even got a float in the parade. You should see what Stuttering Jack made. And Bimp has the damn place lit up like Christmas, plan to shoot off fireworks that night at the river, so’s you can see it from the bar. This one means a lot. I came personally to make you an offer you shouldn’t refuse. Tommy and I got it all laid out. Place’ll be jumping ’til dawn. Look at my nails. Green dye has messed up my manicure. I’m burning the candle at both ends for this one.” “What’s so special about this one?”

“Abel. It’s his last.” She drops her palms to the counter and leans forward, bringing the smell of her fruity gum with her. Those eyes, as blue as the rain that pushed her inside, stare directly into mine. All the while, her words are echoing through my mind. It’s Abel’s last. “Last?” “He sold The Rock. Still can’t believe it. Heading to Florida to live with his sister. So yeah, Melvin, it’s the last one. You’d know that if you paid a visit every now and then…” I can’t believe it. Abel loves that place. He and Tommy pretty much run Sweeney Town out those bar doors. He was the one to warn me about the Donnellys. Tip me off when they snatched Nicky. He was the one that told me an eye for an eye and gave me the piece I needed to settle the score. Yeah, it was fucked up the way I went about it, but if Abel didn’t give me a place to channel that rage, I might have hurt a lot more people that night. Abel knew where my demons were. Showed me a few of his own. He visited me regularly when I was sent upstate. Abel drank a beer and just sat with me after I buried the old man and had to face the rest of my life alone. Ours was a complicated relationship and I just didn’t want any of that shit near my woman. Still, he was leaving. Even now I couldn’t reconcile that news. The community that poured in and out of the Shamrock’s doors had to be shook at the thought of its closing. It’s not in the best of locations, but it’s definitely a good place. “Why sell?” “Abel’s old, Mel, plus Tommy’s too fucked up to run the place the way he should. His drinking is back. Abel says its time for him to stop. Don’t know what stop means. Figured you would,” she says, drawing her bottom lip in and again giving me that look I don’t appreciate. “Now you see? You have to come. Bring Teeaah, make it like old times. He would love to see you. We would all love to… um, meet her.”

Before I can say more, she shoots forward and nearly delivers a kiss to my cheek but I duck it in time. Sylvia smirks at the miss. “Get your ass up out of here, Syl.” “Didn’t mean any harm, Mel. You know me, always want something I can’t have.” She picks up her umbrella. “We really miss you, though.” Turning for the door, she walks away without another word. She stops and looks back at me to wave bye, then disappears. Alejandro is frowning at me when I turn away. I’m feeling the same. *** The computer blinks to the next screen. I like the feel of the rolling ball under my index finger on the mouse as it goes from one tab of the spreadsheet to another. Soon the numbers are just that, numbers. Random figures that mean nothing to me. I can’t focus. Taking off my glasses, I try to rub life back into sleep-deprived eyes. I should have never woken Mel at four in the morning. I know better with that man. I swear I’m all over the place lately. Sleepy during the day, horny and cranky at night. I’m sick of me, so I know he has to be. Must be newlywed withdrawal or something. That’s how it feels when we’re apart. Like I’m going through withdrawal, ’cause I want to be at home with him. Then when I’m home, I just want to consume his every thought. It’s too damn obsessive. It’s just the way we are now.

“Morning, Princess,” he says, kissing my shoulder. His voice seems to drift from a long way off, it’s so deep and smooth. I can’t move a muscle, nor my eyelids that are now shut. That voice of his follows me into my dreams. My flesh tickles with goosebumps as his open palms rub up and down the sides of my hips. Then one hand goes forward and eases down.

“Jeeeezzz…” I moan. Breathing is harder now. More of a chore. I can feel the fire of my passion for him building. It’s so strong, it’s consuming me. Now I really can’t breathe. “Sweet, sweet Tia,” he says, his tongue in my ear, his breath hot and heavy. “Yes, honey,” “Mmm. You taste so good in the morning,” he breathes. Then he seals my lips with another demanding kiss. Finally, I break for air. Try to save some energy to get out of the bathroom before he bends me over and I lose precious time I need to beat rush-hour traffic. When my eyes open and I see his hand to my abdomen, I smile. Five pale fingers spread over my brown skin, his wedding band gleaming. “Do you see it?” I ask, running my hand over his. He stops kissing my cheek, then looks to the mirror. He covers my hand and his with his other, right at the spot where our child grows. “I check for my soldier in your sleep. I can’t wait to see him grow more.” “Me either,” I giggle. Oh, I’m all giggles when Melvin is loving me. It can get annoying, but he doesn’t seem to mind. Turning in his arms, the warmth from his love radiates through me and I feel such a strong current it makes my knees weak. We’re both fresh from the shower with fire in our veins for each other. “I’m so happy, Mel. Are you happy? Really happy?” “Let me make love to you. I’ll show you,” he begs. “I have to go to work.” “Won’t be long,” he promises, reaching for himself and pushing the head of his cock at my opening. My hands to the sink, I part my feet and he eases in. His entry is thick, warm, and impossibly sweet. He’s so tender. “Mmmm baby…” he groans, pressing a hand to the base of my spine. I know he wants more and I rise on my toes to accommodate, thrusting my pelvis to take him in. Instinctively, I flex my hips when he goes all the way. He sets the rhythm, speeding up and slowing down. I reach behind me with one hand—the other

pressed to the glass of the bathroom mirror—gripping at his neck for balance. The steam from our loving intensifies and electrifies the air and I’m dizzy, the loving is so good. Dizzy and all his. I can’t believe this is my life.

Smiling under the cozy wrapping of that memory, I savor it. Let it completely cover me. That was our morning. Many mornings like that. Even before we were married, I’d wake to his kisses and caresses. I should have married him the night I gave him my heart. Not waited a single day or wasted a single minute. That’s how crazy I am for him. Yes, I can conjure a hundred memories like that one to make me smile. But nothing will cure me from my fatigue. I have to shift in my seat to release the cramp in my lower spine, as my mouth gapes open in a wide yarn. Stretching through it, my head drops back on my seat. What did I get, two, maybe three hours sleep? My eyes slip over to the phone. I wonder what he’s doing right now. Business can’t be good on a rainy day. Who’d buy flowers then? Rocking back in the chair, I close my eyes. A few minutes of quiet might help. I’ll call him after I heat up the lunch I brought, leftovers from our dinner last night. Yes, the quiet solitude behind my closed office door has me slipping fast. “Ms. Reed?” Moment gone. My lids barely part and I find Janice smiling sweetly. “Yes?” I say in a weary voice. “Your sister’s here. I had her buzzed in. Shall I?” “Yes, send her in. Thanks.” I didn’t bother to ask which. There’s only one sister that makes office calls. Wiping at my eyes, I take two deep breaths and exhale. It’s just eleven. There’s still a lot more left of this day. As I push up from my desk, Margie breezes through the door. She’s all smiles, dressed nicely in a blue tailored pantsuit, fitting her curves. Margie always dresses up when she comes to see me at work.

“Hey, sugar! You busy?” “No. Close my door.” I nod. Margie does it. Her purse slips from her shoulder and she sheds her raincoat. “Is it still raining outside?” I ask, looking back at the dark day beyond my office window. I’d been oblivious to the weather. Now I can finally understand my melancholy. “Oh, it stopped.” Margie drops the coat on the back of a chair. She takes a moment to let her eyes sweep in approval or disapproval of my office. Plants she gave me. Pictures she forced me to bring to work to put up. Her eyes stop on the wedding picture of me and Melvin on my desk. “So?” “So?” “How’s Melly Mel this morning?” Margie smirks. “Honeymoon over already?” “Why did you get dressed and drive all the way downtown in the rain? Lucille’s will be dealing with the lunch-hour-rush crowd. So you left Alicia and Pam to fend for themselves?” “They fine.” She waves it off. Sitting at the edge of my desk, I’m watching her ease into the reason for this visit and it’s hard not to let my irritation show. She really needs to stop hovering, even if I am a hormonal nut-job. “Yesterday you were upset. Thought I’d come and take my baby to lunch. Make sure you’re okay. Are you okay?” she says, leaning forward to touch my face. “Cut it out, Margene.” I draw back and she smiles. “Good grief, and you and Melvin wonder why I’m spoiled.” “Answer me, Tia. You two okay?” she rises. “Yes, Margie. We’re fine, but you have to stop this.” “What?” “Sit down.” Margie frowns at me. She bristles at being told to sit like a child. But I point at the chair in front of her, holding firm. “Sit.”

She does, then adjusts her suit jacket and gets comfortable, knocking her long locks from her face. Resting my palms on the desktop with my ankles crossed, I wait until her eyes lock with my own before I speak. I want her to hear me. “My marriage is my marriage.” “I know that.” “You can’t protect me from me, Margie. If I make mistakes… if Mel and I make mistakes, they’re ours to fix. The other day was nothing, but it was my nothing. We worked it out before it got out of hand.” “Good.” Margie nods, smiling, not getting my point. “Listen. I know I can be difficult and my husband understands what he signed on for. I feel pretty bad sometimes when I lose sight of what I have. I can’t have you second-guessing me. I’m new at this and so is Mel. We got our own little quirks we have to work through, but the love, girl—he loves me and believes in me. I believe in him too, in us. Let me figure my stuff out. No unsolicited advice.” Margie’s smile fades. She looks away and I can tell I hurt her feelings. My sister just doesn’t know how to separate love from interfering in our lives. It has to stop. She puts on an understanding smile. Her eyes return to mine. I can see the wheels turning in her head. For Margie, she’s translating my request into something her heart can handle. She eyes me sheepishly for a second, then shrugs. “Can’t help it, Tia.” “I know. It’s just I’m a little too old for you to come running to fix my booboos. Seriously, you should be happy to be done with me. Now you don’t have to worry as much.” “I’ll always worry. It’s a moth… a sister’s job to worry.” Margie grins pointing a finger at me. “And you’re not too old for me to smack some sense into that hard head of yours.” “True.” “So how about lunch?” “Can’t. I want to get out of here early today. Besides, I cooked all that food. I brought a lunch today.”

“Why are you leaving early?” “Melvin and I are celebrating St. Patty’s Day.” “It’s not until tomorrow.” “Yes, but I have some surprises for him. Won’t be at work tomorrow, either. We’re going to have fun. Parade, the whole thing, tonight is our warm-up.” I give her a wink and she knows what I mean. I crave the man now. So glad my first love is my only love. It’s like we share something that’s all ours, something pure. “Melvin agreed to this? All these plans.” “Sure did.” Margie stares like she doesn’t believe. It forces me to step back and remember the chilling look my sweetie gave me when I mentioned The Shamrock. He didn’t necessarily agree. “Why do you think he wants to avoid The Shamrock? Is he hiding something?” “No. Well, I don’t know. I just think Melvin is very protective of you. A smoky bar with folks drunk and shoving each other? I can’t see the man wanting to spend the night like that.” “True. Still, last year he went out and did it up. It’s important to him. I can tell. I just can. I’ll talk to him.” Margie nods. “Good girl. Talk to him and see what he says.” She rises. “I called yesterday to say that Chuckie and I could go with you two. Plus the whole family is going to the parade tomorrow.” “The whole family?” “Yes, kids can miss a day of school. It’s a big celebration out in Sweeney Town.” “But—” “Girl, Melvin is family. It’s a holiday for us all, right? The man wants to celebrate, then let’s take the kids and let them have fun. How does that sound?” “Margie? You’d do that?” “I ain’t never seen my baby-girl as happy as I have since you stopped playing make-believe and found the real thang.” She strokes my cheek. “Mel did that. And

look at you. I’m so excited about your new family. Can’t help but want to protect it. So if Mel is okay with it, let me know. Been awhile since me and Chuckie did something fun for us.” “Thanks!” We embrace and head for the door. “Parade and all is fine, but I think The Shamrock will be just us. Our first night out on the town as Mr. and Mrs. Reed. Want him to be in his element, be himself. Does that make sense?” “Yes. Either way, you just let me know. Gonna make Jackson come too! Can’t wait.” “Me either! Tomorrow is going to be so much fun. I can tell.” *** “We can call it a day. Everything cool?” He positions the last pallet and shuts the doors to the cool room. Been avoiding me since Sylvia left, and I pretty much know why. My man got it wrong. That broad is no threat to my lady, and that flirt she threw my way didn’t mean shit to me. Still, I think I ought to clarify. Set the record straight. “Everthin’ cool, boss. As it should be.” “Not quite,” I answer, walking through, cutting off his pass. “Need to holla at you. Hold up.” I gesture for his return. “Sure… sure.” Alejandro steps back, looks away, but peeps me from the corner of his eye as he snatches off one work glove, then the other. “You know how much my lady means to me.” “Si, si… I know.” “Earlier I had a visitor.” “Yeah.” Alejandro shrugged it off, still avoiding my eyes. “None of my business.” “She’s someone I knew from back in the day, back before I found my Tia, ya dig? But it ain’t deep, and I’d never disrespect my wife. Check it, there’s one woman

that you’ll put it on the line for. One shot at that kind of love. Ain’t a honey out there bad enough to take me from mine. Feel me?” “Cool.” He gives me a fist pound in agreement. I can see the flash of relief in his eyes. We’ve been through a lot. Alejandro was the other one that convinced me to take a chance on my heart and propose to Tia when she and I were just three months into our dating thing. And I was walking around here with my nose wide open, calling her every five minutes just to hear her on the line. Between him and Abel, I finally gave into my heart’s wish. Yeah, he knows what it took for me to take that leap. He also knows men like us can fuck it up in a flash. Good looking out. Alejandro’s my man. One of the few men I’d trust with my business and my back. Never my woman, I’ll never trust any man other than blood, hers or mine, with such a precious flower. He spent six years in the pen for drug trafficking. He’s a reformed gang banger, street hustler, with tats that reach from his neck to pelvis. Each knuckle displays a letter to his gang name, got two black tattooed tears under his left eye for his first kill. One look and you’d lock your door or clutch your purse. Hell, several customers have failed miserably to cover their prejudice. Pisses me off, because that’s life, you always judge what you see. And Alejandro is the hardest-working excon I’ve had on the payroll. Even Moms, God rest her soul, liked the idea of giving him a try. One of the reasons why I love my lady: when she gave me a chance, she gave my crew a chance. Had no problem with him standing up for me in the wedding. Sits here and talks Spanish with him. On Saturdays she hangs around the shop, talking both our ears off and getting in the way. She makes him feel like a man and not some shit she scrapes from her heel. In two years we’ve been down, he’s grown my business and my respect for him. “Something else, boss?” “Yes.”

“Que pasa?” “The re-development of the Avenue. Got several leases signed. Store owners will be filling in soon. Princess is all over me to close every deal. Tired of me stressing it, I suppose. But I’m trying to. Well, you know. Trying to keep my head straight and do it right. Bring it back to how it used to be, feel me?” “Yeah, I do. Heard you’re going to open up a community center too, move the one from Wesley Drake over this way. That true?” “That’s the plan.” I nod. “Cool. Cool. A lotta young hombres need it.” “That’s not what I wanted to speak on. The Phillips Station at the end of the Avenue, owned by the Koreans. The one up on Sisley. It’s for sale. Garage and all, lot and land. I was thinking…” “No shit?” Alejandro put his fist to his mouth, eyes stretched. “Ya thinkin’ on helpin’ me?” “No shit,” I nod. “Get you off the ground. You talk so much smack about owning your own spot. Time to make it happen, kid.” “Whoa!” Alejandro backed up, hands to head. “You fo’ real. This shit fo’ real?” I nod. “Spoke to Tia. Woman has a ton of ideas, so be careful. She’ll have you giving pedicures upstairs while you changing tires below.” Alejandro laughs and says something in Spanish I can’t translate. “Glad to do it for you, brother. Every man has a dream… good to be able to help man get his.” Alejandro can’t stop smiling. He’s pacing a circle. Mind blown by visions of his own. I can feel that. I know what its like to turn the corner. It’s what happened when Princess came to me crying that she was pregnant. As if it was impossible for me to plant my seed with all that hot loving she gives me. I was all over her before the woman could process the news. Every time I think on it, I’m all over her. Still can’t get over it. “It’s already done, man. You’ll pay me back and own it. Run it. Do your thing.”

“I won’t let you down. Hell, I don’t know what to say.” “Say I can get my ride fixed anytime I want. Free oil changes for life. Then we square.” Alejandro laughs. He daps me up. Neither of us willing to let our pride go long enough to hug. “Tell her thanks. Tia, you got something special in her, hombre. Really special.” “Don’t I know it.” *** He comes in and I’m nearly tripping over myself to get in position. I got on a cute green summer dress. Had to pin my hair back though, because of the rain. I can hear him. Keys jingling, footfalls softly muted when he crosses the hardwood foyer into the carpeted living room. Then he stops. Eyes bouncing off one decorative piece then the next. He looks at me and all I’ve done. But he isn’t smiling. “What’s this?” “Surprise!!” I grin. “Wait!” he throws up his hand. “It’s not your birthday!” I can’t stop grinning. “Very funny. You know what this is. Now. Do you like it?” The colors are green, gold, and white. I’ve taken care to cover every corner with it. I kept most of the stuff all in the trunk of my car; don’t ask about how I drove home with balloons covering the windows. But it’s so cute. I got green and gold ribbons and balloons everywhere. Shamrocks taped to the walls. I even got a black kettle pot from the party store filled with gold foil-wrapped chocolate coins. Oh, and I found a leprechaun, two of them about three feet tall. All kinds of little leprechaun decorations, and clovers made of green glitter… just a bunch of stuff. It looks like St. Patty puked all over the place. It’s more of a joke than anything else. Something he’s sure to get a kick out of. Even bought him some green Speedos I know he won’t

wear. Real men let it swang, is what he always says. And he’s just standing there looking around at it, as if he walked into the wrong house. “You don’t like it?” I ask, noticing how he isn’t laughing. “What’s this about, Tia?” he says tossing his keys to the coffee table. That hurts. Stevie Wonder could walk in right now and see what this is about. I worked damn hard. And it was a joke. A sweet one. For us to get silly. Can’t get a read on him now. I keep getting this wrong. But I won’t pout about it. Margie ought to see me now. I give him my best smile and saunter over. “It’s a celebration. You keep ignoring the holiday, like you don’t want to celebrate it with me. Let’s play. I just thought…” Looking back over my shoulder at the ghastly display, I can’t help but sigh. Damn. It does look kind of crazy. Tacky even. Why am I trying so hard for something he has barely mentioned? I feel like an idiot. “Never mind. It’s stupid. Dumb idea.” “C’mere.” He pulls me close when I move from him. Mel turns me in his arms and holds me from behind. Drops his chin to my shoulder. “I like it. You just surprised me, sweetness, that’s all. Nah, I love it. Let me guess, you got on green panties too?” he kissed my cheek. “I do.” I nod. “Good girl.” He turns me and kisses my forehead. “Let me shower and we can… um… celebrate,” he says, shaking his head as if I’m crazy as he walks around the leprechauns. “Wait.” He turns and I go to him, taking his hand. I give him the Speedos. He holds them out and his eyes drop to me with a firm no that makes me smile. “Oh, and the family’s thinking about going to the parade and… well…” “We’ll talk about it after the shower,” he says and pulls away. He tosses me the green Speedos, then dismisses them altogether. Chewing on my bottom lip, I’m left standing in a sea of green and gold. Something is up with him. I plan to get to the bottom of it.

Chapter Three

When I come out of the bathroom with steam still in my eyes from the shower, I see her pacing the floor. She turns with a hand to the bend of her hip. She’s looks worried. I’m just not in the mood for the drill. “What’s wrong?” “Nothing…” “Not true. Something is wrong.” “What you need, Princess?” “That’s what I want you to tell me,” she says, eyes questioning and lips set to a thin, firm line. “I don’t get it.” “Talk. Tell me what’s going on with you. I’m the one pregnant and you’re more hormonal than me with these mood swings. Mel, if you don’t want to celebrate St. Patty’s Day, then say so. Seems to me—” “I didn’t say that, baby,” I sigh. “That’s because you won’t talk to me. Not about this. You sure can tell me all your other wants.” She’s eyeballing me, and I can’t really escape it now. Shaking my head, I break our stare, ’cause there’s plenty truth in what she’s saying. But if she keeps dogging me, I might snap round here. Need baby-girl to step off on this one. Just let it ride. “Let it go, Tia. Just leave it alone.” “No!” she says defiantly. Where are my clothes? She’s folded them, had the nerve to put those damn green man-panties on top. To hell with that. Tossing my towel, I go for a fresh pair in the dresser instead. I’m knowing it will piss her off if I leave the towel where it lay. Maybe that’ll put her on another subject. Rather fight over my messy habits than this.

“Problem is, Mel, you haven’t said much of anything, so I have to ask. And that’s not like you. It’s like you’re avoiding it. Would you not drop your towel on the floor!” “Damn it, baby! Just let it go okay!” I snap, shutting the drawer with more force than I intend. Don’t have to look at her to know I’ve stepped in it now. Done hurt her feelings. I’ve never raised my voice. Fuck. I didn’t mean to go there. But sometimes, I swear the woman finds that pressure point and presses harder when I just need her to let up. “Sorry,” she says softly. “I won’t mention it again.” “Shit.” I roll my eyes upward. She’s out the bedroom door. “Fuck.” I snatch up a pair of jeans and just slip them on bare-ass to go after her. I can hear her slamming pots in the kitchen. I’m stumbling over all these fucking balloons and the apology I hope she takes. “Tia.” She has her back to me, but she stops what she’s doing when I enter. “I didn’t mean to snap at you.” “Sure you did. Guess I don’t know when to shut up. I’ll shut up now. So we can both just let it go.” “No. Not a chance. That’s my bad, back there. I’m an idiot. Let’s not let it go. I’m sorry. Sorry, Princess.” When I reach her, she turns on me abruptly and swats my hands away. Her cheeks wet with tears. Fuck me, I made her cry. I’m holding her face, trying to fix this shit. It’s just today. Today is weird for me with Abel leaving and everything. “I don’t understand. Why are we fighting, Mel?” “Hey, we’re not. We’re not.” I kiss her briefly, trying to pull her back on my side. “It makes no sense to me.” She turns from my second kiss, knocking my hands away again. “You did things with your mother... why won’t you do things with me and our baby.” Wait. The kid ain’t even here yet. I suck in a breath and let that one go.

“Tia, I’m an ass. I didn’t mean it.” “Yes, you did mean it. You went out last year. What are you keeping from me?” “Tia.” “It was a joke, Mel, and you… I don’t understand. Get out of my way, now!” “Hold up… slow down.” She does. But she won’t look at me. I’m rubbing her shoulders waiting for her to hear me. Then she looks at me and its not how I want. There’s more hurt in her eyes. I feel like shit. “I thought it was something we could do together. Share your culture.” “It is. And I do want to celebrate. It’s all good, Tia.” “What does that mean? It’s all good?” She pushes me away. “It’s not all good! You’re keeping something from me. Something is wrong, I can tell.” I really don’t know how to say what’s in my head without it making more of it than I intend. No matter what I say, she’ll want to talk it out. Some times a man doesn’t want to talk. But women, good grief they can never see that. I decide on the truth. A small dose of it. And I can’t stop touching her, but she ain’t having it. So I keep my hands at my side. “Last year I went out to celebrate. To check in with old friends. It was stupid. You saw me. I was pissy drunk. Now why would that shit interest me?” She eyes me, but doesn’t budge. “The Rock isn’t my spot anymore. Haven’t been through there since we hooked up, married and all. Hell, baby, I rather stay here with you. Tell me you can’t feel that?” This time, when I reach to wipe at tears with my thumbs, she doesn’t draw back. She stares at me with those deep brown eyes, so round, soaking up every detail. Burning it into her brain, to turn on my ass when the day comes that I want to step out and she wants to keep me in. I have to smile. I know my woman. But it’s not fair that I want to know all of her and I keep parts of me locked away. “We can go to the parade,” I concede. “See the fireworks. It’s all good.”

“And The Shamrock. Can we go there? Can you introduce me to your friends?” “Those people aren’t my friends...” I heave a sigh. Not going to lie to her. Not worth that kind of negative energy. She’s searching for some kind of validation. Why she needs it, I don’t know. Maybe it’s because she has her doubts about me still. Those little doubts any woman might have when she married an ex-con. And it ain’t like you can be an ex-murderer. Maybe she wanted to see the old watering hole to make it less real, less of a threat. Didn’t she know it wasn’t in competition for her love? Her love is my salvation. I kept it separate because she was to be untouched by that part of my life. My seed. The both of them too precious to even take the risk that we’d run into someone from my old days. Or maybe I’m a fucking coward, and I just fear her seeing and knowing all of me. Every single part of me. “I want to meet your friends, and don’t say they aren’t again, because you know it’s not true,” she said softly. “Fine. No problem.” She smiled. I didn’t. She threw her arms around my neck, jumping in her heels, and then walked off, saying she was calling Margie so they can be ready for the parade. I don’t even turn to respond. Instead I fetch a beer from the fridge. Go through the motions of opening it and drain the bottle to the sounds of her giggles on the phone in the next room. Dropping against the fridge, my mind goes there. Thinks of what Sylvia says. Abel’s leaving. Last I saw him I told him Tia was the one. He told me to move on. To let the past go and move on. Just move on. “Yeah, so much for that.” I toss the beer. “Melvin?” “What is it, babe?” “Chuckie says he ain’t wearing no green!” she laughs. “Yeah, well me either,” I mumble, walking out.

*** I can’t sleep. When I look over and see my lady doesn’t have that problem, it does relax me. Looks like our baby is the biggest sleeping pill for her. She’s in the bed and out instantly. Right now she’s up under me, arm thrown over my waist and face pressed to my chest. Easing down the pillows, she turns to her back and I roll up on top of her. Settle between her soft thighs, which I part with my own. She stirs, but sleep holds on. When I lift, I wish the light were on in the room so I could see her beauty. I prefer to make love to her with the light on. Just can never remember until I’m so far gone, I won’t stop to reach for the switch. But I know enough of it to define every sensual curve. She’s right, her boobs grow every day and I swear they get prettier. She gets sexier, softer, more loving. Can’t help but to run my tongue over, letting it swirl over the pebbled hardness. Then suck hard until her eyelids part. That’s it, baby. Wake up for me. Her body is soft and warm, as it always is. One of the first things I noticed about her, how she radiates heat from within. Don’t even get me started on how hot and tight she is below. Her sex has a man hungry for more, all the time. Tonight our ritual was thwarted before I made it to the bed. Princess had fallen asleep with papers from work scattered on her lap. I had no problem tucking her in. Now I can’t sleep. I push her arms up above her head and pin her wrists down. She squirms a little, rolling her hips, hooking her thick thighs around my waist. I swear if I don’t get in her soon I’m going to spaz out. She’s awake, smiling with her eyes closed, and I can’t help but pepper her face with kisses. Soft, sweet sounds of her breathing escape her as I lift my hips to angle into what’s mine. “I’m sorry about earlier, Tia. Let me make it up to you,” I whisper, then shiver when all the feeling rushes to the head of my cock, like a punch to my gut just from

feeling her there. My mouth returns to hers and she’s seeking my kiss before our lips make contact. “Thank you baby, for everything.” I’m breathing each syllable into her open mouth, then take over the kiss once again. She responds with soft puffs of air from her nose. Her hands clench into tight fists. “Now. Please, now…” she pants. That’s when I go in for the loving and it’s all of that and then some. Mindblowing tightness that has my balls clenching, jaw clenching, ass clenching. My face presses hard against the side of hers. I’m groaning in her ear, loving her hard and strong. Pussy hot, body smooth, it don’t get no better than this. She moves the way I like, wanting to free her wrists, but I don’t dare break my hold. It’s the only thing that keeps me grounded. Right now I want to be anchored to her. Bound so tight, nothing separates us. “Aww, damn. Thank you, baby, thank you, thank you, thank you.” I let go of her wrists. Pressing my face into her the nook of her neck, I grip her mounds below and pound my way into heaven. Every nerve in my body is raw with the feel as I thrust hard, and deep, then withdraw for as long as I can. Every muscle in her sex is concentrated on pleasing me. She can work that ass masterfully. Brings me to tears, just about. She clings to me and I’m damn near convulsing through an orgasm. She’s crying out in my ear and I pray it’s not from pain, because I’m too far gone to stop now. Then, it’s like coming apart. And being all together, all at once. Spent, I’m on her breathing hard, but feeling satisfied. Which is fleeting, ’cause with her, I’m always wanting more. Soon, her growing belly will mean I’ll have to curb these urges. But until then, I plan to lay right here. And I do. Actually fall asleep in it. Until she gives me light taps to the ass. “You’re heavy, Mel.” She then pushes at my shoulders. Reluctantly, I draw away and she comes over to lie with me, choosing the position that she finds most comforting. And

together we can claim sleep. I’m kind of looking forward to tomorrow. It’ll be our first St. Patty’s Day. With Tia, I’m always digging the firsts. *** “Uncle Mel! A green horsie!” Levi, Alicia’s son, screams from Mel’s shoulders. That’s my nephew, clapping his hands in joy. The parade marches by in a formation of green coats. Levi has on a pair of two-sizes-too-big shamrock-shaped shades, and a tall green leprechaun hat that comes with a fake red beard under his chin. All the boys have them on. They’re eating green ice cream cones, or green popcorn, or licking green suckers in the shape of shamrocks. It’s in the low sixties today. But the crowds and the excitement have the air charged with such energy you don’t feel it. The rain stopped just in time for the parade, so the streets are slick, but glistening with green and yellow confetti and streamers. “Girl, how the hell they do that?” Alicia asks me. “Paint those horses green. That’s just damn weird.” “Probably use some kind of spray,” Pam says. We’re all crowded on the end of the curb. My sisters frown and pick apart every single float. And there are plenty. High school bands in between. Floats from neighboring stores and organizations, decorative displays of Irish culture, drive past with many waving hands and kisses blown by those riding. Margie is busy collecting candy that’s thrown at our kids, shoving the pieces in her purse. Chuckie and Charles are deep in some conversation, oblivious to the festivities. Only Jackson and Mel are entertaining the kids. All in all, it’s cool. A twenty-foot-tall leprechaun puffed with helium looms in the distance, with its arm raised in a frozen wave at the crowd. About fifteen people hold strings to keep it anchored. The kids spot it and go wild. Margie is flustered, trying to keep count of all them. Yes, a family full of boys, ages ranging from a baby to a to fourteen year old, are gathered. And my hubby wants a son. Gracious.

“I’m hungry. Where is there a place good to eat?” Sherry asks, passing off KJ. He sucks his pacifier, leaning in my arms to see the approaching twirlers. “I saw a Chili’s up the street.” Pam points. “The line will be outrageous in any restaurant. Just cool it. We’ll go somewhere after the parade.” Walking off, I push between others to get in with the kids and Mel. “Hi!” I say. He winks at me. “Do you see it, Tee-tee? Look!” Levi points at the approaching jolly green giant. “Yeah, I see it! Wow!” I chuckle. KJ’s head goes back as it gets closer. The crowd on either side of the street erupts in cheers and folks shoot green and gold confetti from pop guns. The winds cause it to shower us. It’s a float. It has a skirt of green, a platform of white, and big gold arches. A man dressed like a leprechaun is rolling his belly and his hips. Most of the people have oversized mugs that are painted to look as if they hold green beer. The sign at the back reads The Shamrock. The woman on top is in a long coat, but open, so her teeny green bikini shows. I can’t help but look at her large, manufactured tits and tiny waist. Her blonde hair is blowing behind her and men are whooping at her. Even KJ is jumping in my arms at the sight of her. “MEL! MEL!” she squeals, jumping up and down waving at my husband. I frown up at her, then look over to Melvin. The tramp is frantic to get his attention. She’s waving and calling for him, drawing attention from others on the float, who scan the crowd for Mel. Now the woman is blowing kisses and shaking her tits at us. Melvin points Levi to look at the next line-up, as if he doesn’t hear her. Oh, he hears her. I’m sure of it. Margie and I exchange a look. She saw it too. We both shoot Ms. Shamrock a back-off-bitch glare. The woman stops waving when her eyes meet with mine and the float moves on.

“Who was that?” I nudge him. “That who?” he asks. The next float shoots off candy and the kids scream. Mel, still ignoring my question, lowers Levi so he can run to get some. Margie throws her hand up in response and gives me a ‘cool it’ look as our kids dive for candy. No winning that battle. I check the street for the Shamrock float. It turns at the light. That blonde is out of sight, but the memory of her cheering and trying to get my man’s attention is burned into the front of my mind. “Let it go,” Margie says, easing up next to me. As if she can talk. She has the least restraint out of all the Jackson sisters. “You saw her?” I ask through clenched teeth. My eyes stay hard on Melvin, who’s pointing out candy for the kids. “I sure did,” Margie says back. “Look like a skank-whore-bag-slut-silicone tramp to me.” “Okay, Margie.” Margie frowns. “Better be glad she rolled along. And Melvin heard her ass too. Men. I swear, probably some tramp he used to—” “Margie, you aren’t helping.” I shift KJ in my arms. “What?” Pam asks, catching the tail end of our conversation. “What you two talking about?” Alicia says, coming over. I plead with Margie with my eyes. That woman could be anybody. I don’t need them all ganging up on Melvin, embarrassing me. Margie rolls her eyes. “Nothing. Just talking about some woman flirting with Chuckie.” They all look to Chuckie, who looks up and frowns at us. Pam rolls her eyes. “Don’t act ghetto out here, Margie. Don’t nobody want Chuckie’s old fat butt.” “For real. Eeewl,” Alicia says, turning up her nose. Mel returns with Levi in his arms He puts Levi back on his shoulders and the five year-old is quick to rip into the candy before Alicia sees him. “Give that to mama!” Alicia demands, and Levi pops it into his mouth quick. She glares up at him.

Some Irish step-dancers stop to perform for us. “Having a good time?” Mel asks me over the cheers of the crowd as Alicia fusses at Levi, who chews on his candy. “Yep!” I nod, forcing a smile. Screw it. He didn’t even see her. And I am having a good time. KJ tries to feed me his pacifier. I play-suck it and he’s satisfied. “You having a good time too, sweetie?” The pipers blast. KJ jumps in my arms, then screams. Holding him tight, I rock him as I look up at a line of men in kilts, walking in formation as they play. KJ won’t stop screaming, but the other kids watch curiously. The men march by and the blare from the flutes harmonizes with the pipes. Balancing KJ, who’s now burying his face in my neck, I reach for Mel’s hand. He looks down at me and again gives me that lopsided smile I love. Our fingers intertwine. Together we watch the parade, with our family. *** “That was fun,” Sherry says, popping a fry in her mouth. “I thought just the Scottish wore kilts. What’s up with that, Mel?” Tia’s at my side. The rest of the family is crowded around the tables we pushed together in the burger joint. Sherry and her husband Kelvin are the closest to us. My lady is practicing being a mom with KJ and I’m getting hit with all kinds of visions of how it’s going to be when ours comes. “Me too,” Alicia chimes in. “Irish wear kilts too?” “Not always,” I interject. “Really. The Scots wore them. They called them mantles and it was the Scots that brought kilts to Ireland. Though you don’t want to piss an Irishman off by calling him Scottish.” “Really?” Kelvin asks, brow raised. “Like calling a Dominican Puerto Rican. Made that mistake with this babe once and—” Kelvin stops mid-chew. He looks over to see Sherry glowering. “Long time ago, honey, a real long time ago.”

“Mmm hmm. Well, don’t stop, K. Tell us more about your Dominican honey,” Sherry says. My eyes cut over to the rest of the family. Jackson, at the other end, is laughing with his grandsons. Margie and Pam are arguing over something I can’t pick up on, and Alicia’s on the phone while her husband eats from her tray and his. Family. I really thought I lost mine. After moms and pop died, I drifted back to Sweeney Town. Though I’d swore not to. Tried to connect with something, anyone. Kept a low-enough profile not to draw out cats that were cool with the Donnellys. It had been years since I rained bullets on the streets of Sweeney. Still, you can never be too careful. “Melvin? You okay?” “Good, babe.” “So tell us more,” Kelvin says, looking for me to rescue him. “Why grown-ass men walk around in skirts? Shit got to be weird.” “Answer me, Kelvin!” “Sherry, cool it. Let the man finish schooling us. Damn,” Kelvin says. I can feel my man. Just last night I stepped in it. Hard to dig yourself out if you ain’t careful. “Kilts? They’re tradition, I suppose. Never really got into it.” Tia pipes up. “I know why.” I look to her, confused. “You do?” “Yeah. I looked it up on the Internet. Was going to buy you one, but I figured that would be going too far.” Sherry and Kelvin look at us both. I can’t believe Tia sometimes. I wish I knew the things that go through my woman’s head. Next she’ll be marching around the house playing the bagpipe. “That’s cool, babe,” I say, rubbing her shoulders. “Well?” Sherry asked. “Why? Why they wear them?” “It’s like some kind of noble garment.” She looks to me shyly. “You were wrong, sweetie. The Irish were the first to wear the kilt. They say it was brought to Scotland by some migrating Gaels.” “Gails?”

“No. Gai-ells. And Irishmen invented the bagpipe, whiskey, and um, good loving.” She cuts me a sly smile. I laugh out loud. So do Sherry and Kelvin. I had no idea. I can drink a man under the table and amp it up singing some old folk songs I picked up in the bar, but my baby is schooling me. “What else do you know?” “That Braveheart was a bunch of bull ca-ca. I mean the costuming, at least.” “Well, Mel Gibson looked good in that skirt, girl,” says Sherry, and Kelvin frowns. She shoots him a look. “You got your Dominican honey, and I got my Scottish-man dreams” “Okay, long as they remain dreams,” Kelvin mumbles. “What else?” I say, hoping there’s more. Really digging how she’s all into the day. Don’t know why I fought her so hard. Tia tilts her head up. “Tap dance.” “Bullshit!” Kelvin blurts. The adults look down the table at us. “My bad,” he says, checking the kids, who are all snickering. “Africans invented tap.” Sherry shakes her head. “The Irish had a form of step dance with taps way before we were wearing shoes, babe. Tia is right. Learned it in a humanities course I took.” Sherry shrugs. Tia nods. “They contributed to jazz, too. The brass part of it. In the early 1800s, many Irish were mixing it up with black folk when it came to music.” “So we’ve been mixing it up that long, huh?” I lean in and kiss her cheek. She blushes and nods. Then she gives me this look. I’m lost in the chocolate swirl of her eyes as her face comes closer, and she does what she’s never done in front of her family. She kisses me. A full, long, mouth-watering kiss. The velvet warmth of her lips and tongue makes a man weak. I capture her face and lay one on her for all to see. My sweetie. “Eeew! Tee-Tee Tia!” Alvin and Levi squeal. The other kids laugh out loud. But my baby doesn’t let the kiss go until I’m ready. And oh man, it takes a minute for a man to get ready, ’cause she tastes so good. Our lips part and she’s gazing into my eyes.

“I love you,” she whispers. “I love you, too.” When we separate, a couple of people at other tables are looking over. Not cause I’m white, and she’s not. ’Cause they know. I got the finest babe in Sweeney Town digging me. And I’m digging her, too.

Chapter Four

“That was fun!” In the bathroom, imagine what I find: my husband soaking in the warm perfumed bath I ran in our garden tub for me. Now Melvin knows I want those baths alone. I narrow my eyes on him and he moistens his lips. Giving me that look like he’s going to get some. I got a lot to do before it’s time to go. I want to look just right for our night. Turning from him, I unhook my hoops from my lobes, dropping each earring in the jewelry box. “C’mere.” “What time should we go to The Shamrock? What time does it start?” “Whenever we want. Undress for me. Slow.” “Mel, seriously, I need my bath, okay? We can play later tonight.” “Nope, want to play now. C’mere.” Turning to face him––his arms stretch around the back of the tub––he faces me with that naughty tint to his sparkling green eyes. As if under a spell, my husband’s spell, I do as he asks and begin to undress. Shedding the day. Taking extra slow measures to remove my undergarments the way he likes. I’m remembering the crowds. The way the kids laughed and pointed at the silliness in the streets. How my family fought, laughed, and groaned through the event. All of it was wonderful. I can tell he really enjoyed it. That’s all I wanted, for him to have the holiday and something that belonged to him. How could that be wrong? Now it’s time for his St. Patty’s Day reward. After all, he is missing work today and I know how busy this day is for him. “You know you aren’t slick. We’re going to go to The Shamrock tonight.” “Mmhmm,” he answers, dropping his head back. His eyes stay glued to mine. The water’s warmth remains: the jets shoot up bubbling waves. He sinks into the

lavender and waves his hand for me to come to him. When I place mine in his, he gives a pull that causes some water to splash up my nose and in my face. “Mel!” He puts me on his lap, and I swear the man has a never ending hard-on. I wonder if all wives have to put in as much as work as I do to please their man. “C’mon baby, I’ll be good. I’ve been wanting you all day,” he says to my breasts. They bob in the water, though they are heavy and swollen from the snug fit of my bra. I need to go up a cup size. This much I know. “Don’t get my hair wet.” “I promise. I won’t.” He nods. His hands cup my ass, pulling me up to him so I’m on my knees, and he’s flicking the point of his tongue at my oh-so-sensitive nipple. My fingers are in his hair, combing through the thick strands to massage his scalp. His lips press down upon my hard points and draw my areola through. It’s all a whirl of sensations and touches. His hand goes down the middle of my back, over my butt cheeks, then into the water to fondle and caress my aching sex. He teases my spot. I know my bottom lip is quivering. “That’s right, baby. I’m ready for you,” he says, releasing my nipple. His heated mouth goes up my throat, nuzzling below my ear, turning my spine, along with my defenses, to liquid. No wonder my legs are wide open and I’m circling the thick head of his cock, getting ready. Threading my fingers behind his neck, I let him guide me down, until I’m filled with him. And he’s holding me so he goes in deep as I go down slow. My inner walls tighten immediately at the invasion. He grunts under my descent. “Damn,” he moans. He puts pressure at my hip, so strong I feel like my pelvic bone may snap. I refuse to hurry it along, taking him inch by inch. My whole being is focused on that one spot. That singular sensation. And I’m almost full of him. He groans against my throat, which sends his hips up in a forceful thrust. The air is pushed out of my lungs

along with a silent cry of ecstasy, the pressure and thickness temporarily paralyzing me. I can’t get enough of the ride. Looking down into his face, seeing his rapture playing out as he’s biting down on his bottom lip, I’m kissing his closed lids, strong nose, squared chin, thin lips. Rubbing my cheek over his stubble. I love him so much. He’s relaxed now. I was worried before. He was so tense last night. “I love you.” “Me too,” he says, tightening his hold on my hip and forcing me to move. I gasp. I’m too open for him in this position so it makes the feeling tenfold. Concentrating on the pleasure instead of the discomfort, I rock back and forth, setting a rhythm and delicious friction that causes the waves to move in sync with me. I arch into him. My breasts jut upward as my eyelids flutter shut. My coochie muscles are working in overdrive, as if it’s possible to receive him deeper. His hand goes up between my breasts, circling my neck to hold me in place. With every upward thrust he gives, I take him deeper into my soul. We’re both grunting through it, wanting to get to that place that only he and I share. I’m struggling more than him, my thighs hurting, my knees aching. But I hold on, trying to be careful of my hair. “Keep going, baby. I’m almost there, keep going,” he says, dropping his head to my breast. The movements shove it upward and he sucks my nipple deep into his mouth, triggering sensations that feel like lightning bolts through my body. I ride him harder. The combination of excruciating pleasure and exquisite pain connects with the delicious thickness in me, bringing it all full circle. It makes him wild. He’s thrusting so hard up into me, the water splashes. “Mel, m-my-ma hair.” Too late, he shifts and turns me. I nearly submerge as he brings me up against the other side of the jacuzzi. “Damn it!” I grunt, and he’s taking me against our tub. Several hard thrusts and a few tasty slow ones and he’s done. “I told you not to wet my hair,” I say, shoving at him as he kisses my face. “Move!”

He chuckles and lets me go, and I swear he did it on purpose. I get of the tub, and yep, my hair is jacked. It’ll take me another hour to fix it at least, and still. When I look back, he’s staring at me hard. “What is it with you?” “We can stay in,” he sinks in the water. “No. You need to get dressed, because now it’s on. We’re going!” I storm out. I hear him cursing behind me. I’ll take a shower and fix my hair in the guest bathroom with the door locked. He’s pissing me off. *** The living room’s quiet. Quiet enough for me to hear her in the room applying her makeup, as I sit here and stew in my own frustration. Nothing I could do or say can delay Princess’s plans for the evening, and trust me, I’ve tried. She wants to go. I don’t. Plain and simple. If I want any peace in my crib, I’m going to have to take her. Yeah, man. It’s a matter of wills. Her will to see that part of my past, my will to show her only what I want. Damn it. Checking my watch, I see it’s after eight. The place has to be crawling with folks now. A fucking sweaty-ass bar isn’t a place for my lady. “Tia, baby, if we gone do this, let’s roll,” I grumble. “Coming,” she says, walking out of the room. Her high heels echo her approach. My eyes nearly pop from my damn sockets. She’s all dolled up in a green dress that hugs curves that belong to me. Tits on display. Makeup. What the fuck is she wearing? “Where are you going dressed like that?” “With you.” “Nah, baby. Ain’t gonna happen.” “I beg your pardon?” “It’s a bar, Tia. Put on some jeans and a shirt or sumthin’.” “I will not! I bought this dress for you. Don’t start with this macho crap, Mel. There’s nothing wrong with my dress.”

My eyes drop to her pink toes, snug in some open-toe gold pumps. She could slip on spilled beer or corn chips with heels that high. And look at her legs, calves tight, and thighs and hips curvy and firm under a skirt that looks as if she’s been vacuum-sucked into it and stops well above her knees. I feel anger swelling in me, thinking of how my boys will be ogling her tits. She’s fine as hell. But this I know. And I’m not too keen of other men lusting after my woman. I already got a death grip on my crew working at the florist shop for the way they cast her sideways glances when they think I’m not looking. This kind of shit will have me fucked up all night. Baby needs to change. Not my fault she’s so sexy with this pregnancy. “Mel, please… let’s go,” she pleads. I literally have to clamp down on the inside of my cheek. I can make a stand. Get all macho, raise fucking hell and demand she take the fucking thing off. But I’m tired of arguing with my woman over this day. She’ll think it’s about me controlling her. Won’t see it how I do. What man wants to put his woman on display? This is bullshit. Fuck! “Mel?” “Yeah, baby. Let’s go,” I mumble, avoiding her eyes. Grabbing my keys, I snatch her hand and yank her toward the door. She keeps up and I’m trying hard to check my attitude. It’s going to be a long night. *** “Wow, it sure is a lot of people out. It’s like Mardi Gras or something!” Mel’s slumped down and leaned into the door, one hand to the steering wheel, eyes straight ahead. He’s been giving me the silent treatment since we left the house. I’m trying not to let it spoil our night. “Where should we park? The streets are packed, huh?” I ask. He hits the signal and takes a side road between two buildings. I’m holding on as his big truck dips and lurches through the potholes. Then we come to a stop.

“We’re here,” I smile. He doesn’t say anything. Finally I sit back. “Mel, if you’re going to act like this… then screw it.” “Not that. Something I need to tell you.” When I look over, he’s looking away. Let me tell you, the man has no problem letting me know how he feels. From the first day I met him, he’s been eyeball to eyeball when expressing himself. The times when he can’t speak his mind are few and far between. “What is it, sweetie?” I ask. Something is really upsetting him and I just don’t understand it. I reach and run my hand up and down his arm. Part of me wants to put him to my breasts and tell him to keep his secrets, or whatever it is. Another part of me wants to force him to get it out. So he can just deal. “I got a temper, Tia.” I try not to laugh. “Really?” He cuts me a sharp look. I see he’s serious so I swallow my smile. “Talk to me, Mel. I know you can be intense at times. I understand.” He shakes his head slowly. “Man has his limits, Princess. I got a lot at stake now.” “It’s a party. St. Patty’s Day. I don’t think—” “Yeah, well, um, I let that life go. The one that cost me Nicky and my family’s respect. But sometimes, those ties… Well, I got some fucked-up ways.” He sucks down the rest and sighs from somewhere deep. I wish he’d look at me. We’re best friends. I tell him everything. Hell, I talk so much sometimes I wonder if he gets it all. I just want to understand him. “After I got out, I’d still drift here,” he mumbles. I heard him on the phone a time or two, mentioning the place. That’s no secret. Especially if he has friends here. He looks over as if he heard my thoughts. Looks me in the eye when he speaks. “Not for the shit that went down. I was done with that. No intention of getting dirty. No thirst to be number one out there, baby. But still. When you get that

close to darkness, it’s hard to separate it. Some of the peeps up this way know me differently. You hearing me, Princess?” He levels his eyes on me and his tone is flat and hard. “They know my strengths and my weaknesses. Now they will know about you.” I nod. “So we’ll go in, meet a few, then roll. No argument. No back talk. When I say it’s done, we bounce. You understanding?” “Okay.” He smiles weakly. “Good, with your fine self. I can’t wait to let them all see how lucky I am to have you, baby. You the one who’s made me a better man.” I let go the breath I was holding. Jesus, he’s scaring me. “You think something I see or hear in there could make me stop believing in you? Mel?” The seatbelt blocks me. I unhook it and reach to touch him. “Is that what this is all about? Why you didn’t want to celebrate with me? Let me in to this part of your world?” He cuts his eyes away. “Things are changing. For good. We’re so good, baby, I don’t want anything to fuck it up. Drinking and hanging out ain’t neva been a good thing for me, sweetness.” “Melvin, don’t you know? I’m kind of digging bad boys now.” I grin. He smiles and his eyes slip back over. “Stop holding on so tight, okay? Nobody can make me doubt you. Not even you. I married you because you’re the yin to my yang. Where you go dark, I go light. We balance each other out. And sweetie, that’s never going to change. You’re the love of my life. And as you’d say: I’m down for you, forever.” Finally, he does look at me. I see such relief in his eyes it breaks my heart. How did I miss all this? Me and my big mouth. I’m going to have to learn to listen to my guy when he isn’t talking. I kiss him softly. “Now, I’m ready to party. Let’s go.” ***

She’s out the truck and at my side. I can’t help but admit she’s wearing the hell out of this dress. Holding her hand, I keep her steady. It’s dark and slick from the short rainfall. When we make it to the sidewalk, the laughter, music, and gaming suck us in like a vortex. Yeah, this is St. Patty’s Day. Man, I used to get fucked up and be on these streets until the sun chased my ass home. And it’s just the same. Drinking started early, so damn near every passerby is lit. Girls in little mini skirts or tight jeans with snug shirts hang on to each other. In their hands are plastic cups of green beer. And the fellas are out like wolves. Chasing tail, catching a few. “I’m glad those days are over,” Tia says. “What days?” I ask. “You were too much a bookworm to be one of them.” I joke. “Yeah, but you weren’t.” She gives me the side-eye. I laugh and pull her closer. “You got a point, babe, ’cept I had enough game to keep the honeys running to me, not in the other direction. See how quick I pulled you?” She elbows me, but smiles. We walk the block, bypassing small groups laughing and spilling out of taverns, cafés, bars. Every joint is open tonight. The Shamrock is at the corner. Streets are jam-packed, and at the end of the block is a stage and rock band. Some are dancing in small clusters. Others are running to catch up to friends. My eyes cut through the crowd, zeroing in on the homies hanging out in front of the bar. A few I know. When I look at Princess, she’s all wide-eyed. Glancing around at people, as if she’s never seen chaos like this before. She’s all book smarts and class. Scenes like this were never part of her universe, one of the things I adore about her. And you know what? She’s right. Where I go dark, she is my light. “Is that it?” she points. My eyes follow. The big green shamrock that is part of the signage has Mylar balloons tied to it. “Yep, that’s it.” “Look!” Princess squeals and lets go my hand. Shocks me into stopping.

She points at the large papier maché rock by the door of the bar. “Mel, look. It’s the Blarney Stone. Isn’t it cute? They made one.” She laughs. “You’re supposed to kiss on it for good luck! Kiss it for me!” I eye the thing with the sign that says ‘kiss me’. I can hear the wheels spinning in my lady’s head. Thinking it would be romantic to have me kiss it in front of everyone. Bullshit. “I heard that they piss on it in Ireland then watch and laugh as tourists come and kiss it.” Princess frowns. That idea is squashed. I’m saved. “Mel!” Someone hollers my name and it’s on. *** A short, red-faced man with bright red hair and eyes greener than my Mel’s comes out. He’s got a ton of beads around his neck and a t-shirt that reads Try Me – The Irish Do It Better. “Me-Me-Mel. H-ha-ha-how you been!” the man says, grabbing Melvin into a bear hug. My husband pushes him off but smiles. “Cool.” Immediately the man’s eyes land on me. “An-an-and… wh-who’s this?” “This here is my Princess. Tia, my wife.” “Hi,” I say, extending my hand. “Oh, shit! You went and did it. Sylvia sa-sa-sa-said you did!” he wipes his hand on the front of his shirt. “Hi pretty lady, they ca-ca-call me—” “Stuttering Jack,” Mel finishes. He laughs. “Call me Ja-Ja-Jack!” “Mel? That you! Hey boys, Mel’s here.” As I’m shaking Jack’s hand, my eyes leave his to observe the trio of men walking toward us. Some of them are handsome like my Melvin. All of them are

anxious to see him. I look to Mel, waiting, as he slaps hands with a few. He pulls me close. “Boys, here she is. Tia. My wife.” “Hi,” I say. They all give me a look over, and suddenly I see why my dress isn’t quite a good idea. One speaks, then another. My heart’s pounding in my ears, drowning out the welcomes: how you doin’, beautiful, nice to meet you, welcome to Sweeney Town. They’re joking with Mel. He flat-out asks another what he’s staring at when his eyes linger. I squeeze his hand, hoping he’s just kidding. The guy, named Danny, laughs it off, but that hard look in my husband’s eyes makes the laughter hollow. He keeps me close. All agree that we should go in. And even from the sidewalk I can see through the bar windows that the place is crammed with people. He gives me a look and I nod that I’m ready. The Shamrock is a cloud of lingering cigarette smoke. It singes my nose hairs. Besides that, I can smell barley, something fried. Takes a while for my eyes to adjust. I look up to a ceiling covered in strings of green Christmas lights. Melvin moves me to the front of him with his arm over me as he guides us through. He actually shoves a few men out of our way. Really rude. But I don’t say anything. I’m kind of glad for the protection. Eyes land on us. He damn near knows the entire place. Several ladies cast me sideways looks. Some of the men just stare at me with hard eyes as they sip beer. A mix of young, old, inexperienced, and dangerous folk are mingled about. So much so, I avoid eye contact. But to be truthful, I kind of like the charm of the place. Green cutouts of shamrocks and leprechauns are on the wall, next to pictures of what I guess are famous Irishmen. A table at the back is filled with a green buffet, everything from green M&Ms, green cookies, guacamole dip, and green chips. If my eyes aren’t deceiving me, I see green hot wings. Celery, cut broccoli, green apple slices… just green, green, green. And we keep moving. Mel clears a path for us to reach the bar. Moisture gathers at the corners of my eyes from the sting of smoke. I jump when someone drunkenly stumbles forward. But Mel again shoves them in time to keep them off

me. Over the bar, where the flat screens probably broadcast ESPN on the regular, I look up and see the horror movie The Leprechaun playing. The little creature is running with fangs, terrorizing teens. Interesting choice for entertainment. I feel it. All the smiling faces and laughter. People are really having a good time. I hope Mel can, too. When I look back at him, he smiles and winks at me. “Mel?” the crowd at the bar, who’ve gotten the word that he’s there, all wave over. “That way, Princess,” he whispers in my ear, and I nod, forcing myself to move. I keep my arms crossed in front of me. And that’s when I see her. The blonde. She’s grinning from behind the bar. At least she’s dressed. Barely. The shirt she wears is cut down the center and makes a weak attempt to cover her bikini-clad breasts. She’s wearing a green top hat, with a fake shamrock hanging off it. Her eyes are glassy from drinking. She’s one of three, and the only female, behind the bar. “I told you I saw him on the streets earlier!” she boasts over the crowd, who shout their drink orders at her in vain. Men clear for me to take a seat at the bar and Mel lets me go. When I sit, I can’t take my eyes off her. Never considered another woman in my Melvin’s life. He’s my only, so I never thought about it. Probably should have. “There’s my boy!” A kind-faced older man steps over next to her. “And who’s this?” he asks over the ruckus. “Abel, I want you to meet my wife, Tia. Tia, this is the only man, other than Jackson, that I fear,” he jokes. The woman finally tears her eyes from Mel to look at me. She gives me a wide smile, but there is no warmth in her eyes. It’s envy. So strong it takes me a minute to address Abel. “Nice to meet you.” He kisses my hand. “Pleasure, sunshine. Come in here all pretty and brighten up the place. Don’t she, fellas?” Several eyes go to me and I’m uncomfortable. Melvin pulls my hand from Abel’s. “Careful, old man.”

Abel laughs. Sylvia moves in closer. “Hey, they call me Syl. Nice to meet you,” she says, reaching at me. I shake her hand, but my smile is no doubt forced. “Nice to meet you, too. I saw you on the float earlier. Did you see her, Mel? She was calling your name.” Mel looks at Sylvia, then me. “Nah, baby. I didn’t.” Sylvia flinches and draws her hand back. I’m satisfied. “Baby, this is Bimp, Andrew, Tommy, Mighty-Mike, and Stephan.” “Hi,” I say. Bimp is the closest. He smells like the ten beers it’s evident he’s had. He too has a ton of green beads around his neck, like Mr. T. He turns on his stool. A short man with a belly made for drinking at a bar, he grins at me. “Pretty lady, got a question for ya. What does a leprechaun call a happy Irish man wearing green?” I look over to Mel, who takes a beer from Ms. Tits. She keeps smiling his way. He winks and nods for me to answer. “I don’t know, what?” “A jolly green giant!” Everyone laughs but me. Even Mel. I smile not sure why I don’t get it. Mel rubs my back. “Bimp loves to tell his jokes. He makes them up on the fly. A regular comedian, this guy.” “Oh, well it was very funny.” I smile. “Yeah! After a few beers they get real funny! Or you get so buzzed it won’t matter,” Tommy says, raising his green beer. “Tell her the one about he leprechaun drowning,” Stephan calls out. “That one is sure as hell to make her crave the Guinness!” “Pay them no mind.” Bimp waves them off. “I got new material just for you.” He winks. “What you drinkin’, sweetie?” Sylvia asks. “A coke.”

“Rum and coke?” “No.” “Nah, Syl, my baby’s pregnant.” Melvin announces to the bar. You’d think he said I had spiders in my crotch by the look of disgust Sylvia flashes me. The rest of the bar? Well, they go nuts. It’s like a wave through the crowd, with cheers exploding everywhere. It’s deafening. Mel is so happy, he’s crushing me from behind. Spills some of his beer on me. I smile shyly as he kisses my face in front of everyone. Then I thank the people crowding us. Suddenly I feel faint from the masses. I have to close my eyes and wait for my body and mind to stabilize. But the cheering and well wishes are never-ending. When I look back, I can’t describe the look of pride, of happiness Mel has. It’s like each time someone says congratulations, his chest grows and bulks. It’s something to behold. The man named Abel is reaching over, slapping Mel up the head and pulling him over the bar into a hug. In fact, most are congratulating him like he scored a touchdown. Except Sylvia. She’s staring at me like she’s been robbed. “Congratulations,” Sylvia says softly, and passes me a coke. “Thank you.” As Mel goes on about ‘it’s a boy’—as if he knows—Sylvia leans in for the kill. “How did you two meet? I just have to know.” “Fate,” I answer. “Mmm… well, I’ve known Mel a long time.” She looks up at him and then back to me. “He’s one of the good guys. I want him to be happy.” I wait for more but Mel turns and sees her talking to me and something in his eyes makes her back away. “What’s that about?” he asks. “You tell me. Who is she to you?” “No one. Is she bothering you?” “No, Mel. But I see how she looks at you.” He wraps his arms around me and puts his face to mine. “Doesn’t matter. You think I can see anybody but you?”

I smile hard. “I love you, Princess.” He kisses the side of my neck in front of everyone and I blush. I don’t even bother to look and see if Sylvia is watching. Somehow I know she is. Instead I relax, and believe in him. Believe in us. Someone comes up behind him that he hasn’t seen in awhile and they make a big scene over it. Loud and shoving at each other. I shake my head. Bimp sits next to me again. “Knock, Knock…” I look over. “Who’s there?” “Irish!” “Irish who?” “Irish you glad you got a little leprechaun on the way!” To this, I do laugh. Bimp lets go a blast of laughter too, then chugs more of his beer. Several people come over to stand between me and Bimp. They introduce themselves. I feel like a star from all the well wishes. Mel leans in and speaks in my ear. “Abel wants to talk to me. I’ll be gone for five minutes. You cool, babe? Or you want to come with me?” “Sure… I guess I’m fine. Go ahead,” I say, frowning. He said he wouldn’t leave me. But I don’t complain. They all seem nice and welcoming. He kisses me and leaves. My eyes follow as he walks through the crowd and his tall frame disappears. “Why did St. Patrick’s drive all the snakes out of Ireland?” Bimp asks. “I don’t know, Bimp. Why?” “Because he couldn’t afford plane fare!” Bimp laughs until he chokes. I’m patting him on the back and Sylvia is fixing him another beer, instead of water. “Bimp, move on. Give the girl a break with all those corny-ass jokes.” She smiles at me. “So you’re pregnant, huh?” I give her an eye. “Yes.”

“Wow, Mel is going to be a daddy. He has to be so excited. I never figured him for the domestic type.” She pulls another beer and slides it down the bar to the customer. She ignores the several others who shout drink orders at her and the other guy at this end of the bar. I want to question her. Ask how she knows Mel. But I don’t. It didn’t matter if they were… together. He’s mine, and she I and I know it. *** “Pregnant, huh?” Abel asks, sitting behind his office desk. “Yeah. She is,” I sigh. “And it’s freaking me the hell out.” “Good, then that means your head is on right. Being a dad is your biggest test. You up for the job?” I have to consider it. But only for a second. I can’t wait to meet my son. Hold him. Teach him the way, and watch him be the man I wanted to be for my father. Can’t wait for Princess to give me a girl too. So I can love on her. I just can’t wait for all the things coming my way in life now. Forgetting the question, I smile at the image of a little girl with my baby’s eyes and spirit. Two Princesses in the house will surely drive me mad. “I can’t wait.” “What you doing down here, son?” Abel’s tone cuts through my thoughts. “Heard it’s the last hoorah for you, Abel. You closing up? Packing it in? ’Sup with that?” Abel shrugs. “The Rock is hard to keep going. I’m an old man. Time for me to enjoy the fruits of my labor.” “And what of Tommy?” “Tommy’s a grown man. You and I both know a bar isn’t a place for him to run alone.” “True. Damn Abel, you could have called. I wouldn’t have known if Syl didn’t come by.”

“Is that why you bring your pregnant wife down here? We talked about this, Mel. Moving on, letting go of the past. Before her, I understood you wanting some roots. But you got a lot of good in your life now.” He has a point. Abel always does. But he got me wrong on this score. Wasn’t my idea to drag her here. And seeing her here with people I used to feel tight with makes this place less of a temptation. Makes that life someone else’s. “Maybe I needed to face it, to let this shit go. Ya feel me? We had some good times and bad times Abel. If I’m going to say goodbye, this is the way. I kind of like doing it with Tia at my side.” Abel nods. His eyes glisten and I swear, the hard-ass looks like he might drop a tear. But he doesn’t. He leans forward. “You doing good. I heard about the Avenue, and all things you got going on.” “Still keeping tabs on me?” I chuckle, half-heartedly. Abel helped me survive in the joint, putting the word out that I wasn’t to be fucked with. Though I was so full of rage when I first went in, I prayed a motherfucker would. He came to see me. Brought me shit to read. Told me to stay the course, to ride the wave. That I’d get past it. When I buried the last of my family and found my way back here, he drank a beer with me in silence and let me go through it. I owe him a lot. ’Cause the temptation to slip was sexy as hell in my darkest moments. “She’s a pretty one.” Abel smiles. Forcing the past from my mind, I turn my thoughts to Tia. I smile harder. “Yeah man, she’s the one. Like I said. Stubborn as hell, though. Got a mouth on her, too. Can cut me down with a word. I dig that a lot.” “Ha. I miss my Susie, may she rest in peace.” He nods. “You got it now, son.” He pushes up and walks over. Gives me the fatherly hug my own dad couldn’t. He grabs my face. “I’m proud of you.” He kisses both sides of my cheeks. “Thanks, Abel. Thanks.” ***

“Okay, okay, one more… it’s the last.” I nod, looking for Mel. The party is wild now. There’s a girl on the bar, and Sylvia is passing out green Jello shots. I was never a partier. Bars, well the kind I frequented, were very upscale and no one danced on the bar or cursed as bad as Margie. Alcohol makes people nutty. I shift on my barstool, growing more uncomfortable. Where is Mel? He said five minutes. “Go ahead, Bimp. Let me have it,” I say, looking up to the screen at the Leprechaun monster killing some poor sap. “When is an Irish potato, not an Irish potato?” “When?” “When it’s a French-fry!” I laugh with him. But my eyes are in the mirror behind the bar, searching the sea of pink, pinched, sweaty faces for my guy. “Where’s the powder room?” “Oh, it’s over there!” Bimp points to the far side of the bar. I really do have to go. Seem to have to go a lot lately, ’cause of the baby. “Tell Mel I went? I’ll be back.” He nods. Easing off the stool, I turn into a wall of people. “Excuse me.” The crowd is so thick I push and I’m shoved. Nervous, I cover my belly in case someone accidentally elbows me. Halfway across the room, I realize what a bad idea it is. “Hey, sexy. What’s your name?” A man leans in. His hand grazes my lower back. “Excuse me.” “Wait, sweetheart.” He grabs my elbow. In that moment I snatch away and look around. The last thing I need is for Melvin to see it. “Sorry, married.” I say, showing him the ring. Thankfully he backs up, but his eyes are on my ass when I turn. Damn it, I’m the only one dressed like this. I should have listened to Melvin. I push the rest of the way. There’s people screaming and cheering all around, till finally, I break through at the back of the bar.

I don’t know how I will manage to make my way back. But the urge to tinkle keeps me going. There’s about two steps to the hall where the sign reads: The Loo. I’m on my way when a wheelchair rolls to block my pass. A man sits in a black t-shirt, leather jacket, and jeans. He looks like he was once quite handsome, or would’ve been, if his legs weren’t a pathetic, mangled mess. A woman is with him. She must have helped him down the wheelchair ramp. “Sorry. Excuse me.” “You’re with Mel?” the guy asks. I stop. My eyes fix on his sly smile. “Yes.” He looks up at the lady, who smirks, and then back to me. “He always had a thing for dark meat. Heard through the bar you two are expecting a baby. Good luck.” The backhanded compliment takes me aback. There’s something unforgiving in his stare. The side of his mouth twitches as if he’s on the verge of saying something even worse, or spitting at me. Hate. It’s what I see in his eyes, which are cold as a glacier, and intense. “Oh, did I offend you?” the man says. The woman gives off a bitter chuckle. I look at them both. I could get into a nasty exchange, but I’m not sure why I’d bother. When I turn to walk out, she blocks my way. Okay, they are officially pissing me off. “Where are my manners?” he says from behind me. I look back and he’s moving his chair. Forces me to step aside so he can sit between me and my escape. “I’m Sean, Sean Donnelly. Mel and I go way back. He never told you about me?” Now the wheelchair makes sense. And so does the name. Yes, Mel told me all about this man. The one he hurt, but lived. The one he went to prison for. The one that ordered the torture and killing of his little brother. For the first time, words escape me. What can I say? ’Cause in that moment my husband’s past is staring me in the face. I look down at his legs. “Yes, he did me in. But you should have seen how we filleted little Nicky. Kid was a crier.” He snorts.

“You’re disgusting.” “Watch your mouth, bitch!” the woman behind him says. I ignore her. My eyes remain trained on him. “You and I both know that if Mel finds you hassling me things could get ugly. I suggest you move.” Sean shudders with rage. His cheeks flash scarlet. “He tell you what he did to my boys? To my family? You black cunt!” “Excuse me.” I try to walk around them. I have to get away from this scene before Melvin finds me. Damn it, I should have stayed at the bar. The wheelchair boy—he’s a boy to me, not a man—cuts me off. “Funny, you’re not quite like Melvin’s black whores. He likes them a little rougher around the edge. Ghetto.” The girl moves in on me. Now I’m cornered. “She definitely looks lost in that freak-um dress. Ain’t that right, Bee-yon-say?” I’m not sure why she’d consider her comparison an insult. If I look like Beyoncé, then with her pale, pasty skin and Goth hair and makeup, she looks like Amy Winehouse. Except not as nearly as classy. “Fuck you both!” I snap. “Get the hell out of my way! Now!” He just laughs. “Fuck me? That right, sweetie? Your man already has. Now he’s legit. Selling flowers, instead of product.” Sean Donnelly wets his lips. “Ever ask Mel what he did for the Donnellys when he was down? He was one of my best boys. Moved some heavy weight.” He sees the shock in my eyes, and I swear I didn’t want to show it. Give him that power. But Melvin sold drugs? He never said that. “Yeah, he never told you did he? If I was the King, he was my fucking Lancea-lot. Muthafucka was a soldier. That’s what Nicky stumbled on. Live by the sword, die by my gun, bitch. Except Melvin was the trigger-man more times than I can count. Melvin knew the game. It was made for men like us.” He laughs again in my face. I close my eyes and speak through my teeth. “Move your pathetic ride out of my way.” “Or what, bitch?”

Then it happens. My eyes open to see the woman on the ground, either knocked or pushed there, and my husband yanking the crippled man from his wheelchair. He has him by the throat and slams him into the wall. “Melvin!” “What the fuck did you say to her!” he snarls. I’m so shocked I stumble back as he slams the man against the wall again. The guy’s head lolls over from the blow. His girlfriend is screaming, and I’m frozen. People rush the cramped space. There’s so much shoving to get Mel off the guy I’m pushed back in my midsection. I can’t even see him. Turning, I see the emergency exit door, and escape out of it that way. *** “Melvin!” Abel yells in my face. His elbow presses into my throat. He’s the only one strong enough to hold me down and talk me out of my black rage as they carry Sean Donnelly out. “You cool? Say the words! Say it!” “I-I-I’m cool.” I grunt. Finally, I do control it. But it’s hard. My head is spinning with such lust to snap that motherfucker’s neck, I’m not sure if I can stop. Neither is Abel, because he hasn’t let me go yet. I could see it on Tia’s face when I found them. I saw it in her eyes. Tia! “Tia… where’s Tia?” I cough out, shoving Abel off. “Where is she?” Abel looks around. “She was back here with you, wasn’t she?” “Fuck!” I rush back into the bar. Fights, disagreements, all of it has no effect on the partying crowd. Other than Sean sulking with his crew, everyone is drinking and laughing it up. And my Princess is lost in the sea of people. I’m damn near on edge trying to find her. Shoving people out of my way. What did he say to her? What did she see? When I get to the bar, Sylvia is flashing her boobs at the boys, causing

them to howl like wolves and toss her bigger tips. There are several girls up on the bar, dancing. “Where’s Tia?” I ask Bimp. He turns around dazed. “Huh?” “My fucking wife! Where is she!” “Mel, I don’t know man. She went to the bathroom.” “What’s wrong?” Tommy and Stuttering Jack approach. “Fuck!” I say, pushing through them. *** A girl falls flat on her ass. Right in front of me. Then she sprays green vomit from her mouth and nose. I step back, barely missing the stream. Her friends are laughing as if it’s funny, and I can barely see through my tears. I watch them pick her up and tote her off. She’s clinging to them. I have no one to cling to. Wiping at my tears, I hug my stomach. It kind of hurts, but I’m telling myself it’s not serious. I didn’t get shoved that hard. I don’t feel different. I’m okay. I was trying to be cute tonight, so I didn’t wear a jacket or coat. And it’s cold. Or is it me? I’m not sure what I should do. I just had to get out of there. Had to get away from that scene. I drop my head. My emotions take over and I start bawling. I have my purse. But I don’t have the keys to the truck. I can’t go back in there. Something makes me want to. To grab Melvin and drag him out of that bar, away from everyone. Still, I can’t. And I cry. “Tia!” It’s him. I don’t have to turn to confirm it. Instead, I’m wiping at my tears. I don’t want him to see me like this. He lifts me by the arms and wraps me up in his. I should have never brought him back here. He said it. I just didn’t want to listen. I wish I had listened. “Are you okay?” he grabs my face. Looks me over. “Did he hurt you? Did anybody touch you?” he pants.

His breath is short and his eyes still have that wild look in them. I’m scared. My tears are beyond my control. They flow despite the command I issue for them to stop. He thinks something is physically wrong. He literally wants to pick me up. “I’m fine,” I stammer, the shock wearing off at being lifted from the ground. I now have feeling returning to my limbs. Its as if seeing he’s okay and having him with me jump-starts my heart to beating again. I was so scared in there I shut down. I ran from him. “I’m sorry, Melvin. We shouldn’t have.” He’s crushing me into him. “Shh…Shhh…no, no, no,” he says, kissing me to stop me from talking. Kissing my eyes to keep them from crying. “No. I’m sorry baby, so sorry. I shouldn’t have.” “Can we go? Please?” I see others looking. The man named Abel is pushing them back into the bar. He walks over as Melvin leads me out of the alley. “Are you okay, Mrs. Reed?” He smiles tentatively. “Yes, thank you.” I nod. He nods. “It was nice meeting you. Mel, take care of her. You two take care of each other,” he says, then turns away. “Thanks, Abel,” Mel says in a hollow voice, and then tightens his hold on me, walking me away. I look back once at the man, as he watches us leave. I see sadness and pride in his eyes. Somehow, I can tell. The relationship Mel had with him wasn’t poisonous, like the one he had with the Donnellys, and this place was another home. Somehow I feel like I owe Abel a debt of thanks for pushing him out of the dark. He may have had a hand in putting Mel on the path to our life. Abel smiles and then he’s gone. So is the past. Together we leave it behind. At the truck in the alley he’s looking me over again. “Are you okay? Did you get hit, shoved, anything?” He touches my belly. “The baby? Is the baby okay?” “Mel, I’m fine. I left. I got out of there so I wouldn’t get hurt. I’m fine.”

“Damn it!” he curses, walking away. He starts pacing with his hands in his hair. “Please calm down,” I say in a voice that sounds small and frightened. “I shouldn’t have lost my cool back there. I shouldn’t have put you in harm’s way. This is my fault. Damn it!” “Mel.” “I saw him and… I heard what he said to you…” When I go to him, I grab his arms and force him to look at me. His eyes are glassy with tears. “I’m okay. We’re okay. It’s over.” “Tia, what Sean said—” “Doesn’t matter. Don’t explain the man’s lies.” “They weren’t all lies, baby,” Mel confesses. I have to be truthful, it hurts. I don’t want to know the man Mel was when he was associated with a man like Sean Donnelly. “It’s the past, Mel. A past I should have never forced my way into. I learned my lesson. I won’t make this mistake again. You’re my life now.” I smile at him. “And our child’s. We need you. We believe in you.” “I’m sorry, Tia. If I could erase it, wash it away…” “Hush.” I touch his jaw. “Don’t ever think you have to change anything for me. I love you.” There’s a loud boom, like a cannon blast, and I nearly jump from my skin. Turning, I look up at the explosion of green lights in the sky. Fireworks shooting off give a spectacular light display. I look back at him and smile. “Let’s go see the fireworks.” “What?” he says confused. Somehow I want to salvage the night. Make him believe in us, and not focus on his anger. “I just want to leave, be with you. I loved meeting your friends. I had fun. I did, so let’s go. Okay?” He stares at me. As if he’s trying to see if I’m giving him a line, covering my feelings. Walking into his arms, I throw mine around him and hug him. I hated to see

him like that. Hated it. But I know who he is, and who he’s not. I won’t let the past get in and spoil our present. “I love you, Mel. Trust me, okay.” When I look up and smile, I can see the fireworks reflected in his eyes. He drops his head and kisses me. “It is our night.” “That’s right, baby. This is our life. The one we choose.” *** The door eases open to darkness, but my eyes adjust. Mel stumbled up the steps saying he’d wait for me in bed. He knew Margie’s late-night call would run forever. My oldest sister has a way of talking your ear off, even if it’s two in the morning. She wanted all the details of our evening. The phone was ringing within five minutes of walking through the door. Does she have cameras and sensors planted around our house? She calls it a mother’s intuition. I just call it plain ole-fashion nosiness. With a deep sigh, I walk around the room picking up his cast-aside jeans, shirt, and underwear. Why does he drop his clothes all over the floor? Drives me crazy. I turn on the light in the bathroom and place them in the hamper. That’s where I find the black top hat with a shamrock to the center that I bought for Mel. I can’t help but smile. My heart swells with love. I never cared about St. Patrick’s Day before Mel. I barely knew the holiday other than reports on the news about the inebriated ruckus in Sweeney Town every March 17th. Now I feel closer to him. Tossing the hat to the top of the hamper, I turn off the bathroom light and my gaze again falls upon my sleeping husband. I didn’t mean to stay on the phone long. I would rather he fell asleep in my arms. He had a rough night. We tried to pretend that things were okay, but I could feel the tension on him the rest of the evening. After the fireworks, we went for a walk around the lake. He didn’t talk much. Neither did I. We just walked until we both were tired. Then Mel stopped. Turned me under the moon and looked me in the eye.

“Thank you, baby.” “For what?” I ask with a nervous chuckle. “For tonight. Thank you for sharing it with me. Next time this year we’ll have baby to share it with. Make some new memories.” “Will we dress him in green and take him to see fireworks?” I ask, wrapping my arms around his waist.” “I can dig it.” He laughs. “I love you, Mel.” “Tia, I love you too.” He’s cast the blanket aside, again. I can never keep this man covered in the night. After drawing the covers up from his waist to his chest, I run my hand over the hard ridges and touch his face. Margie said something that I can’t shake, something that’s got me thinking of our life and the man I married. Tonight could have gone wrong, terribly wrong, and it would have been my fault. My hand returns to my belly. The ache I felt earlier from the shove has gone. God, if I tell him that I was pushed he’d go ballistic. Closing my eyes, I say a silent prayer of thanks that we’re both okay. “Guess things ain’t go the way you hoped tonight, huh? Dragging Mel out to Sweeney Town.” “What? What are you talking about?” I bristle at the comment. Pulling out the chair to the dining table, I’m sitting down listening to the sounds of my husband stomping through the room upstairs. I didn’t tell Margie any details of the night. None of the hateful words Sean Donnelly said. I didn’t share any of the dark secrets that bastard revealed. I only said that a smoky bar wasn’t truly the place either of us needed to be. “Why do you say that, Margie?” “Because St. Patty’s Day was your idea, that’s why. You said he wasn’t into it and you’re glad it’s over. The parade was fun, though. The kids loved it. I just got the feeling when you two left that he would have preferred to end it there.”

“We had a okay time. The fireworks…” “Mmmhmm, I can hear it in your voice. I know something went down. “Whatever, it’s late. I’m tired, so I’ll call you in the morning.” “Wait, Tia. I spoke to Chuckie. He told me that he and Mel had a talk. A long talk. The man really wants to do the right thing with you and your family. He’s nervous about the baby, about you not having everything you need.” “I know he worries.” I feel tears well in my eyes. I love him so much. I just wanted to show him. Support him. I caused him pain and worry tonight and I didn’t mean to. But I don’t tell Margie that. Somehow she just knows. “What I’m saying, Tia, is that Mel hung out in Sweeney Town when he was looking for something. He stopped going when he found it. The man wants you and the memories you make, not the ones you think he misses. You keep harping on your cultural differences, but you just can’t seem to get it through your thick skull that you and Mel are more alike than different. I want you to relax, enjoy your new memories, our good times. Don’t think you have to make up for anything.” “Nothing wrong with supporting my husband,” I sniff. Damn it. I’m crying and I know she can hear it in my voice. “St. Patrick’s Day is our day too.” “Of course it is. Hell, we got a bunch of younguns with bellyaches to prove it. Celebrate every holiday if you want, just do it with him, not for him. You understand?” “Yes. I do.” I smile. “How did you know I needed you?” I ask her, shaking my head. “A mama knows.” Margie laughs. “Good night, baby girl. Call me in the morning.” “Love you, Margie. Night.” She’s right. We can make as many memories as we want, our own memories. The past is where it should be—behind us. I crawl over on top of him and lay on his chest. He groans and pulls me to him. I’m still in my dress. “You okay, baby?” he mumbles in his sleep.

Holding to him, I smile. “Yes, we’re okay Mel. Happy St. Patty’s Day,” I say, kissing his chest. “Mmhmm, love you too,” he mumbles and slips back to sleep. Laying flat on him with his hand on my ass and my face pressed to his chest, I yawn and join him, tired from our first holiday together. I can’t wait for Easter.

Want more Mel and Tia? Great news, this is the second installment in the Holiday trilogy of your favorite couple. When we visit Mel and Tia again you, will meet the brand new addition to the Reed family. Be sure to visit http://thedivaspen.com for details. Also! Mel and Tia, the trilogy will be released Summer 2011 in paperback. Look forward to being able to buy the complete collection for your reading pleasure. Sienna Mynx has other Romantic/Dramatic tales for your pleasure. Best Sellers: Funny Valentine: Mel & Tia Volume 1 The Accidental Mistress Buttercup: A Historical Romance Aiden's Game Coming in the Month of April: Daisy's Choice: Sequel to Aiden's Game Queen Isra: Daughter of the Sun

About the Author Sienna Mynx is your naughty writer of Paranormal, Contemporary, and Historical Interracial Romance for readers that love the bad boy's but desire to be the women that tame them. A current resident of south of Georgia, Sienna Mynx has just emerged into the e-publishing arena. Her novellas reflect her thirst for romance told from a fresh perspective with the diversity she craves in erotic Romance. Look for more to come. Visit Sienna Mynx at http://siennamynx.com