Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 70185 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 351(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70185 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 351(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
My lawyer turned out to be Caleb. He sat with me the next day in Marcus’ office and explained the prenup that Marcus had had his father draw up weeks ago.
I asked about conflict of interest, and that’s when I learned that Marcus had hired him for me, especially because his Dad’s firm handled all their family business, and now I’m part of that family, so I get my very own attorney. I’m still trying to figure this shit out.
I’m not dumb, though, so I knew the prenup was catered to me from point A to point B. He’d made every provision he could to make sure I felt safe and secure in the marriage. “Isn’t this a bit unfair to him?”
“No, it’s not. It’s what he wanted, and you’ll learn this as you go: he always gets what he wants, which for you is a good thing because he’s always going to put your wants and needs first. That’s the kind of man he is.”
“But I don’t understand; why would he give me the upper hand in all this?”
“Do you know anything about his parents’ divorce?”
“Not really, no; he never really talks about it with me.”
“Well, I’ll let him do the honors. Let’s just say that he learned how not to treat someone you’re supposed to have loved.”
“So, what happens now?”
“You sign, I keep a record, and you keep one as well.” He passed me the portion that needed my signature and I saw that Marcus had already signed. I don’t know; I think part of me still thought this was not real. I almost felt guilty for what was going on in my life.
My kids were thriving; they hadn’t had this much fun since, I don’t know, when. And it wasn’t just that Marcus was spoiling them; it’s the fact that he actually took time to play with and listen to them.
Have you ever tried having a conversation with a two-, four, and five-year-old? It’s exhausting as fuck. ‘Tell me about it. Whew, those little bastards can gab.’
Hush Justice and stop calling your nieces bastards. He mumbled something under his breath but kept his lips sealed for once. After Caleb left, Marcus returned from wherever he’d gone and handed me a cup of my favorite frappe from my favorite coffee place.
“You’re spoiling me.” And I’m afraid you’ll grow tired of doing it and stop.
“It’s coffee, not the Hope diamond.” He’s so blasé. That day, after he’d finished giving me the tour of his house, I thought for sure he’d drag me back to bed for seconds, but instead, he’d run me a bath and knelt next to the tub to wash me himself before we got dressed, and he went back to the office while I was sent home to rest.
Justice was very perturbed by this until Marcus explained that he knew I was still sore and anything we did would just be to please him, and there was no fun in that. Paul wanted to have sex a couple of weeks after a C-Section because there was no trauma to my vajayjay since I didn’t use it to give birth.
‘You’re gonna need to stop making these comparisons in your head. Paul is petrified dog shit that somebody forgot to clean up months ago. You can’t compare him to our good dick having Markie-Mark.’
That’s true, Justice. You’ve got a point. It’s like apples and oranges.
‘Listen, while we’re on the subject, you might want to go ahead and plan that wedding soon.’
Why?
‘Because those things that attacked your egg are doing some weird shit.'
I just rolled my eyes because what could they possibly be doing one day after?
It seemed like no time, and the weekend was here. Paul had yet to see his kids, even though two of them were going to daycare in the place where he worked. I didn’t push the issue because I wasn’t about to call him. I know the kids couldn’t go to his place of residence because of his girlfriend’s substance problem, but there was nothing stopping him from calling them at least once.
Even Marcus takes time out of his day to go see them at least once, and he Facetimes them at night before they go to bed. That whole week, Mo was up to something; she and my kids, but no one would tell me what was going on.
A lady and her entourage had shown up at the office by midweek to ask me a lot of questions about my fashion sense and showed me pictures of shit, but she seemed more interested in my natural response than in my words if that makes sense. Like, you know how the brain starts calculating stuff, like say, you see a car you like, but you know you can’t afford it, so instead of saying you like that car, you stay in your lane, but your eyes keep gravitating to that one particular car? It was something like that.