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This book contains mature themes, explicit language, and scenes of a sexual nature intended for adult audiences only. It is rated R and is not suitable for readers under the age of 18.
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Onika Maraj Manhattan Rooftop
December 19, 2025
After we officially hired Miss Ruth, she offered to start tonight and told us that we looked like we needed a break. I offered to pay her for her time, but she kept declining, saying she wanted to get acquainted with the babies and didn't need the money.
We still planned to include it in her first check.
"How do you feel now?" Beyoncé asked, chewing her food and looking up at me.
I took a sip of my wine before answering. "I definitely feel better about the whole nanny thing. Miss Ruth gives off that warm, comforting vibe, like a hug from a great aunt or something. She reminds me of my aunts back home in Trinidad."
"Yeah, I'm happy we found her. I think our kids will love her. I can't wait until Blue meets her," she said, and we both laughed.
Beyoncé decided to treat me tonight and make it a date. It felt good to go out unexpectedly without having to plan around the babies or worry about finding someone to watch them. I loved that Beyoncé had brought up the whole nanny idea in the first place.
"I feel like they're in safe hands," I said, cutting into my steak and biting into a piece.
When I looked up, I caught Beyoncé sipping her champagne, her eyes slightly on me. I don't know why, but I got nervous.
"What?" I laughed, smiling.
"You're so beautiful," she said, her voice soft.
"Damn, this the first date, and you're trying to fuck me already?" I teased, and she waved me off, chuckling. "I mean, I usually don't do stuff like this, but I'll make an exception for you."
"Why are you making an exception for me?" she asked, playing along.
"You get money, your body tea, face pretty..." I said, grinning as she laughed. "And that dick is so big."
"And how would you know that if this is our first date, ma'am?" she asked, resting her chin on her hands with a little smirk—looking like damn Kamala Harris.
"Girl, shut up. We have two kids together; you know how I know that," I shot back.
"Damn, so much for roleplay," she said, shaking her head.
We fell into a comfortable silence, just enjoying our food, the occasional clink of forks and glasses filling the space. The waitress came by to check on us, and we both asked for refills on our wine and champagne.
We were probably on our fourth glass each by now. We clearly needed this break.
"I have a question for you," I said, setting down my fork.
