I feel a familiar twinge of guilt. I know this shit is wrong. She’s entitled to her privacy. But I think I’m entitled to hedge my bets. I can’t be the husband she needs if I don’t trust her.
When I reach the bottom of the page, I smile.
No new entries.
I exhale as relief settles in. I should have known. We’ve been good lately. No arguments. Plenty of laughing and clowning. A whole lot of sex.
She’s happy.
Which means I’m doing my job.
I close the notebook and move to put it back where it was. I’m already planning dinner in my head when I notice something tucked underneath the bottom layer.
It’s a new notebook.
This one is black. It’s thinner than the other ones, too.
My pulse kicks up.
I wanna walk away and pretend I didn’t see it, but I’m not even gonna kid myself. I reach right on in and pull that bitch out, flipping it open to the first page.
One name sits at the top in bold, angry strokes.
SISCO
“So Professor Higgins is on my list,” Raya’s saying, half playful, half vengeful. “She got one more time to piss me off, and then I really don’t know what I’ma do.” She takes a bite of chicken parm and moans quietly. “Baby…you put your foot in this. Oh my God.”
I stare blankly at her pretty face like somehow that’ll help me read her mind. Like it’ll help me figure out who the fuck Sisco is.
I know good and goddamn well she ain’t cheating on me. I mean, it’s possible. Anything is possible. But that shit ishighlyfucking improbable. And since I know it can’t be that, I make the executive decision not to ask her about him. I’m not blowing my cover for a man she’s not fucking.
But she hates this person for a reason, and I need to know what it is.
The notebook only had one word on the page: Liar.
8
Raya
I follow Sisco out of the Glen Ridge apartment complex, where he lives with hisfamily, toward the highway. There’s no telling where his ass is going, but I’ll find out soon enough.
I stay three cars behind him, but not because I’m scared he’ll notice me. I don’t think men are ever aware of themselves or their presence in the world. They just move through it like they own it with no fear.
Sometimes I envy that.
The sun is low, bleeding orange across the hood of my car as I follow. My fingers grip the steering wheel hard enough to make my knuckles ache. I shouldn’t be this angry yet, but I don’t need confirmation to feel pissed off that I even have to do this shit.
Why can’t men ever just be happy with what they have?
They’re like overgrown fucking toddlers.
Aniya is only five years old. She didn’t even have a full decade with a father who gives a fuck.
My phone vibrates.
I click to answer, and my aunt Tori’s voice fills the car.
“Hey, Auntie!”
