I Know Men Like Him
Sabrina
Islam the door shut and exhale, hard, before the driver even pulls away.
Langston’s not in the car.
Good.
The leather seat is warm beneath me, and I sink into it for a second—just long enough to catch my breath and remind myself that I’m still my own damn person.
I ran.
From a courthouse. From a kiss. From a man who looks at me like I’m the next thing he wants to conquer.
And God help me, that kiss...
It shouldn’t have happened. Not like that. Not when the ink was still drying on a paper that made me his wife.
But it did.
And worse?
I felt something.
Heat. Hunger. The kind of dizzying, wild spark that makes you want to lean in instead of pull away.
I touch my lips like I can scrub it off.
Get it together, Sabrina.
The car glides through the city, soft jazz playing through the speakers like it’s trying to calm me down. It doesn’t.
All I can hear is Langston’s voice on repeat.
“You’ll be moving in sometime this week.”
“My wife won’t work in a bar.”
Like he has the right to rewrite who I am.
News flash?
He doesn’t.
My phone buzzes in my bag, and I dig it out, grateful for the distraction.
Ruby (Lakeshore Manager):
Are you back in town?
I smile before I even finish reading it.
Me:
Just landed.
There’s only a two-second pause before the next message lights up my screen.
