I didn’t know her like that, other than the fact that I fought for her at that damn club, but something about her energy made me want to be cool with her. She was pretty—supermodel looks—and the only thing keeping her off a runway had to be her height.
“Yeah, I’m good,” she said. “He’s a piece of shit. Whatever money he gives us to keep us from calling him a dog online, I’m going on a long vacation on an island. I never should’ve let him talk me into this.”
“Girl, I’m feeling the same way,” I said. “He don’t let nobody touch that nappy-ass fade, so I know he’ll be calling soon. I should fuck up his line-up.”
Amara giggled. “You definitely should. Let’s get drinks tomorrow and toast to freedom and a paid breakup.”
I agreed, then drove off.
I tried my best not to think about Ares, but something in me kept whispering that this breakup wasn’t because he wanted to let us go. As much as he played it cool, he loved us in his own fucked-up way. A fight or two wouldn’t have caused this.
There had to be a motive.
Something bigger.
Something darker.
I was compelled to text him.
So I did.
Me:I’m not mad or hurt. I was wrong for fighting. I’ll stand on it. But you know we are bigger than us dating. So if you need to talk, I’m still here.
He didn’t respond.
I didn’t expect him to.
When I got home, I shoved my phone in a drawer and focused on the night ahead with my real man. He arrived exactly when he said he would. We had flowers in one hand, a duffel bag in the other. A grown man. A man with patience. A man who didn’t come with enemies waiting to shoot up everything he loved.
I cooked for him, laughing, drinking wine, pretending my heart wasn’t drifting somewhere else.
Later, when he kissed me and pressed me into the mattress, I let myself go with him. I let him touch me. I let him please me. I even moaned his name like I meant it.
When his breathing got heavy, his hands slid around my waist, and he whispered he loved the way I felt…
Ares flashed in my head.
His voice.
His hands.
His tattoos.
His darkness.
His fucking smirk.
And I hated that I couldn’t turn it off.
My new man was good.
Real good.
But he wasn’t him.
And no matter how hard I tried to bury Ares Delacroix-Jackson in the past…
He stayed right there under my skin, refusing to leave.
