Loose Ends Read Free

sat on our cherry-wood nightstand and noticed it was almost two A.M. The last few nights I had insomnia. I guess it was my body’s way of rebelling against the nightmares. I was too afraid to sleep. Most evenings, I read and watched Christian sleep, like tonight.
     
     
    I reached over to caress his cheek and he turned in my direction. Instinctively, Christian pulled me to him in our spooning position. As he held me in his semitight embrace, I could feel his love radiating warmth throughout my body.
     
     
    “Mia, you still up?” he asked in a sexy, sleepy voice. “What time is it?”
     
     
    “Yes, I’m about to go to sleep. I just finished reading my Essence magazine. Go back to sleep; it’s almost two A.M.”
     
     
    His warm hand traveled to my right breast and gently squeezed. I let out a soft moan. “First tell me who’s the man?” he asked.
     
     
    “Boo, you know you are.” I smiled at this familiar game we always played.
     
     
    His hand traced an imaginary line down my taut stomach, stopped and dipped between my thighs and gently rubbed. “Let me hear you say it.”
     
     
    “Baby, you the man! You own my stuff. It has your name stamped all over it. You have copyright papers,” I said in the most serious tone I could manage.
     
     
    “You know that, and don’t you ever forget it or I’ll have to prove it to you again.” Christian snuggled closer to me and nuzzled my neck.
     
     
    There was a comfortable silence as we appreciated the moment and our closeness in the early-morning hours.
     
     
    Christian spoke gently into the darkness. “I love you, baby. You and Lyric are my world.”
     
     
    “I love you more,” I declared, lifting my right hand to caress his cheek.
     
     
    “Promise me you’ll never leave me.” His silliness returned. “I love you so much, I’d drink your bathwater,” he shrieked in his best Chris Tucker imitation.
     
     
    “Yeah, yeah, whatever, man,” I said, giggling. As we laughed again, Christian pulled me closer into his safe embrace and we slowly drifted into our own separate slumbers.
     

 
    Christian
     
     
     
    I believe that no matter how good a friend is, they’re going to hurt you every once in a while, and you must forgive them for that.—Author Unknown
     
     
     
     
 
After sleeping in until nearly eleven, Mia and I finally ate a light brunch of ham-and-turkey sandwiches, fruit, chips and iced tea. I haven’t slept in that late in a while. I usually rise with the sun. It’s true what they say: Old habits are hard to break. You see, I’m ex-military, and rising early and putting in several hours of hard work had been drilled into me at a very early age. I was discharged from the marines a few months before I married Mia, my one true love. I didn’t want to bring her back into that environment again for various reasons.
     
     
    Now my full-time occupation is being a loving and devoted husband and a doting father, and working as head of security at a financial institution in Midtown. There, I work everything from first to third shift, usually rotating my schedule. I like a hands-on approach; I like to know my staff, and found this way allowed me to accomplish that.
     
     
    After I walked Mia out to her black Ford Explorer, opened the driver’s door for her, gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, and watched as she drove off to pick up Lyric, I silently wondered again what was bothering her. I know my wife all too well, and something was definitely on Mia’s mind. She still had dark circles under her eyes like she didn’t sleep a wink. Mia did a lot of tossing and turning again last night. And a few times I even heard her call out softly in a fretful sleep, but I couldn’t understand what she was saying. I wrapped my arms protectively around her and eventually she calmed back down.
     
     
    These dreams have been going on for roughly two, three weeks at the most, and Mia refuses to talk about them. I’m positive I know the subject