"But Queen?" Nita scoffed, her tone thick with maternal frustration. "You have to send three emails, submit a formal letter, pass a background check and maybe—maybe!—she'll send a voice note saying 'I'm fine.' It's not normal, Richard. It's like she's allergic to feelings."
"Babe, please," Richard murmured again, voice weaker now. Sleep was slipping away from him, packed and ready to move to a more peaceful marriage across town.
"Fine! Don't listen to me. I'm just the woman who carried her for nine months, sacrificed my bladder control and figure, and raised her while you were busy building an empire."
"That's not fair—"
"I am going to sit here laughing," Nita cut in, "when everything goes to shit!"
"I said I will talk to her tomorrow," Richard groaned, his voice breaking on the edge of a whimper. The man was not beyond begging, especially not when sleep was dangling before him. He rolled over, bunching up the blanket around his waist. "Please, Nita. I swear. Tomorrow."
