For Better Or For Worse | Rihanna

XXV; November 2017

Y'all I'm so sorry this took longer than usual... When I tell y'all this end of the semester is beating my ass :/

However, in honour of Rihanna's sickening MET look tonight, I had to come back, so enjoy this 9125-word chapter that took foreverrrrr to write & proofread/edit.

------

Eden Scott

"Still nervous?" Robyn asked me as we climbed up the stairs of her Bajan villa.

We had touched down in Barbados just moments ago. Melissa had accompanied us, but we parted ways at the airport as she went to visit her family. Robyn and I would be doing the same shortly, but Rob suggested we stop by the place we'd stay at first.

"Yeah, kinda," I admitted. I've been nervous since we set out of the house, 12 hours ago. I mean, who wouldn't be nervous "meeting" their girlfriend's mom who probably still thinks nothing of them?

"No, don't be!" Robyn pouted and grabbed both my hands. "This is gonna be great, I promise."

"Don't make promises you can't keep," I chuckled. I wanted to believe her, for real, but I had already run through all the possible scenarios and found more negative than positive outcomes.

She sighed, and I could tell my "glass-half-empty" attitude was already getting to her. "But, I'm hoping you're right. And regardless, I'll try and have fun."

"That's better," my girlfriend hummed.

I kissed her forehead quickly, a conclusion to our conversation as the black double gates to the private property pulled open.

"Good afternoon, Miss Fenty," the concierge spoke up, ushering us inside.

I released Robyn from my embrace but she kept an arm around my back.

"Ma'am," he nodded, acknowledging my presence too.

The entrance of the villa was a private courtyard, complete with an artificial waterfall leading to a pool and jacuzzi, and a lounging area. Though luxurious, the architecture felt true to Bajan culture and I could immediately see why Robyn loved being here so much. It wasn't her place so much as it was a readily available rental, but she booked it so often it may as well be her house.

Robyn and Robert, our concierge, knew each other already. He still offered a tour for my sake, but I declined. He let us know he was only one call away for whatever we may need, then retreated.

"I see why you come here so often." I was mesmerized by the sound of water falling.

"Nice right?" Robyn leaned forward and pressed a kiss against the corner of my mouth. "You really don't want a tour?"

"Well, I figured you could show me yourself," I shrugged. I was okay with or without, but we had some time to kill.

Robyn agreed and began walking around the house, showing me the various guest bedrooms and ensuites, while peppering stories of past family vacations. I could tell she was trying her best to make me comfortable. I didn't particularly have any positive feelings towards Barbados, or towards the action of going "home." Robyn knew that, and I guess she was trying to give me a little piece of what she found to be joyful.

I listened intently of course. I didn't want to feel like an outsider when I met the rest of her people, so the best thing I could do was soak up all the inside jokes and fun facts about her brothers and best friends alike.

Not to mention that on the road from the airport to Sandy Lane (which Robyn insisted on driving because apparently driving on the left side is more fun), she drilled everyone's name in my head. Normally that shit would've pissed me off, because why are you giving me a pop quiz? But if it keeps her mind off of things, then I'll allow it. After all, we can't both be nervous.