on the shoulder. âCheeks, get up and come to your own bed.â
Arykah stirred. âI am in my own bed,â she responded without looking at Lance. The bed she was sleeping in had been her bed in the townhome she owned before she moved into Lanceâs estate.
Lance exhaled. âYouâre behaving very silly, and Iâm not gonna play this game with you. Come to bed.â
Arykah was facing away from Lance. She looked over her shoulder at him. âAnd what if I donât? What are you gonna do? Make me?â
âIf Iâm forced to,â Lance answered.
Arykah giggled sarcastically. âHumph, Iâd like to see you try. Thatâll be the day.â
Her giggle may have been a sarcastic one, but Lance also heard a little playful daring in her voice. Since he and Arykah had been married, theyâd never slept in separate beds. Lance needed to establish some ground rules in his household. The first rule? Argument or no argument, there will be no going to bed angry, and the guest bedrooms were for guests only.
âDonât play with me, Arykah,â he said while placing his hands on his waist wondering just how he would pick her up out of the bed.
The day they had returned from their honeymoon in Jamaica, Lance tried to carry Arykah over the threshold. But he let out a loud groan when he hoisted her in his arms, and Arykah felt pity for her new husband.
âPut me down, honey. I can walk through the door myself. I need you to save your strength for other things.â
Arykah turned her back to Lance and pulled the sheets up to her neck. If Lance couldnât carry her over the threshold four months ago, he sure as heck couldnât pick her up now. Sheâd gained at least ten pounds since sheâd vowed to love and cherish him.
Lance was a skillful chef, and his nightly home cooked meals added more weight on to Arykahâs scale. Sometimes Arykah didnât know if Lanceâs gift in the kitchen was a blessing or a curse.
His wife had challenged him. He needed to show Arykah that he wasnât a punk. She may have outweighed him by seventy pounds, but he was still head of his household, and he would maintain that position by any means necessary. He took a deep breath, his feet placed apart at shoulder width, and squatted down. In a single motion, Lance scooped Arykah in his arms and lifted her up, sheets and all, out of the bed.
The same groaning noise Arykah heard the day he tried to carry her into their home for the first time she heard again.
The bishop took her by surprise. âLance, whatâ?â
âHush!â he demanded as he turned from the bed and carried Arykah out of the guest bedroom and down the spiral staircase. By the time he reached the bottom step, he was panting like a cheetah that had just run one hundred miles at ninety miles an hour.
As he turned toward their bedroom, Arykah felt Lanceâs arms weaken. She let out a giggle knowing that Lance was struggling to prove his point. His knees bent, and he almost dropped Arykah, but he managed to hold on to her. He slowed his pace as sweat beads popped out on his forehead.
âOh God, my back. My knees. Oh, my knees,â he moaned.
Arykah couldnât help but to laugh out loud. She played every bit of the damsel in distress as she placed her head against Lanceâs shoulder. When he had made it to the doorway of their bedroom, Lance looked like the Hunchback of Notre Dame. He was bent over forward with Arykah almost resting on his knees. But he was only a few feet away from their king-size bed, and when he saw that he was in the home stretch, Lance went for it. He mustered enough strength to hoist Arykah up in his arms, placed one foot ahead of the other, and charged toward their bed. He made it just in time before his arms gave out and he dropped Arykah on the mattress.
She laughed out loud when Lance collapsed on the bed next to her. He rolled onto his back and panted for
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