I don’t object as he carries me back upstairs and to the bathroom. I numbly thought he was going for part two in the shower, but he only briefly set me on the counter so he could open the toilet lid. 

“Come on, you need to pee,” Angel gently instructs as he places me on the seat. 

“How did you…” The confusion doesn’t last long. “Tsk. I told Ven about my history of UTIs.” I guess that saves me from having to explain.

“Mhmm. Now be a good princess, and go,” he says with a peck to my lips. 

I know most people would be embarrassed, but it feels like it’s been a few days since I passed out. If he’s had me since then, I’ve peed several times, and he must’ve cleaned after me. 

The splish is the only sound in the bathroom outside of our breathing, and honestly, it also feels kind of intimate with the way his eyes won’t move away. 

It’s only as I wipe that he glances beside me, and I notice the nice-ass showerheads (yes, plural) and freestanding tub. Flushing and moving to wash my hands, I think about how long it’d been since I bathed.

“What day is it?”

“April fourth.”

“And I’ve been out the whole time?”

“I gave you something to keep you asleep on the way here." Figures. "You did wake a few times, but I don’t think you were really conscious.”

“Can I take a shower,” falls out before I think. 

“Of course, baby.”

I look deeper into the shower as Angel washes his hands; I nearly cry as I see my sensitive skin wash and the special citrus oil I only splurge on for my birthdays. I'm in shock as he hands me a fluffy white towel, an African scrub, and a shower bonnet. 

Heart, be still. I told Ven how I like to exfoliate every three days and shampoo every six, and he remembered. 

Angel starts the shower for me, and I’m tickled to see him try to turn around as I take off the night dress. Feeling my oats, I tug his hand until he faces me. His eyes become suspicious as I pull him closer.

“I need help.”

***

His eyes go heavenward, a little sigh escaping his lips before he reaches for me. I thought he’d spin me around and quickly pull the nightgown up and over my head (give him a good look at the only nice thing my mama gave me). Yet, Angel stuns me as he goes for the front bow I had assumed was decorative. It is not. 

He gently tugs the ends until the bow falls apart, the cups slip away, and the thin straps fall off my shoulders. The warming air hits my chest. However, it’s how he slides the dress off with both hands trailing down my waist that makes me shiver.

Catching the reaction, Angel smirks. (Smirks!) Maybe he’s not a pushover. Unsure of how to regain the upper hand, I tactically retreat to the shower, hoping to get my head on straight before he joins. I wait to hear his clothes drop, but they never do. Pausing just before the water hits my chest, I call out to him as he opens the bathroom door. 

***

“Ya not joinin'?” It definitely came out whiny, but…I’m justified. We just had sex ten minutes ago, and I want more attention. 

“I’m sorry, princess, but I need to clean the room downstairs and the kitchen before we go to bed. I don’t want my time with you cut in the morning,” his voice laced with exhaustion. Well, he has been playing nurse nurse for the last few days.

“Oh. Okay.”

“Take as long as you want, baby. My pajama shirts are in the sliding drawing if you get finished before I check on you.”

With the steam so thick, I can't see more than his outline, but I watch as he leaves.  

Since he’s not here…

I sit on the tile, back fully facing the heavenly spray, pulling my knees to my chest. God, this feels amazing. It’s the perfect condition for the song in my head.

“…Reaching for something in the distance. So close you can almost taste it. Release your inhibitions, feel the rain on your skin. No one else can feel it for you…”