She stepped closer, that smug little smirk still on her face. “Funny how things fall into place… especially when you’re carrying the right man’s baby.”
My stomach flipped as bile crept up my throat. Everything clicked.
That’swhy I hadn’t heard from Cash.
He knew. That fuck nigga knew and was too much of a coward to say anything.
I clenched my jaw, forcing myself not to react. “Do you see me here with Cash? What the fuck does any of this have to do with me?” I tossed the paper towel in the trash. “I already knocked you on your ass for talking to me sideways. Keep talking, and I’ll do it again.”
“And I’ll have your ass locked up,” she snapped. “Who’s gonna save you now?”
She brushed past me into the stall and left me standing there. The little bit of hope I’d been holding onto about me and Cash? Poof. Gone. I wasn’t about to be caught up in some baby mama bullshit.
I fixed my face on the walk back to the table, holding my chin up.
It has nothing to do with me.
He’s not my man.
They were messing around before me.
Fuck. Him.
None of that settled the tight knot in my stomach.
Marcus glanced up from his phone as I sat. The food had arrived while I was gone, but I couldn’t bring myself to eat.
“Everything okay?” he asked, cutting into his lasagna.
I ran a hand through my hair. “I just lost my appetite out of nowhere,” I mumbled.
He frowned. “You sick? Need me to take you home?”
I shook my head quickly. Going home meant sitting with my thoughts. If I did that, I’d only end up calling Cash and cussing him out.
“I don’t want to go home,” I said, eyes still on my plate.
He set his fork down slowly. “So… what you tryna do?”
I looked up. “Let’s go back to your place.”
His eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas. “Bet.” He flagged down the waiter to box up the food.
Princess’s confession played on an endless loop the entire ride to the hotel. If she wasn’t pregnant, I swear I would’ve beat that stupid ass look off her face.
I ignored the alarm bells going off in my head as Marcus laced fingers through mine while we walked through the lobby of the Ritz-Carlton. Cash had made his decision, and I had made mine. Jasmine Miller was back outside.
I know it was childish and petty. I didn’t even want Marcus like that, but I wanted to have something over Cash—even if I’d regret it later.
The elevator doors opened to a huge suite. The living room alone was bigger than my entire Buckhead apartment, with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the Atlanta skyline. Marcus headed straight to the kitchenette. “You want anything to drink?”
“Whatever you’re having is fine,” I said, sinking into a plush couch.
He raised an eyebrow at me. “It’s strong. You sure you can handle it?”
“You’re asking this to the girl who used to throw back shots of 151 like water?” I countered with a playful smile.
He chuckled and took another glass from the cabinet. “Aight, big dog.”
