My chest began to feel tight, so that was my cue to take another sip. I really didn’t even think about it. The alcohol had me moving off impulse. Despite the fact that I didn’t need to be driving, I grabbed my keys. It probably wasn’t cool to show up at London’s crib drunk and uninvited, but was I supposed to just give up?
I knew London wouldn’t do anything while she was pregnant, but if she had the baby, bounced back, and went out there and found another man the way Brion did, I’d be sick as fuck. That wasn’t an option. Locking the door behind me, I walked out to my pick-up truck and hit the unlock button on the key fob. I didn’t need to be in one of my fast cars since I was pretty much seeing double. Being lovesick had me ready to crash out. If London ended up forgiving me and taking me back my dumb ass would never cheat again.
The drive to her home was almost twenty minutes. I had to blink rapidly several times to stop seeing double. My ass didn’t need to be driving, but I was already in the vehicle. I didn’t wantto hurt myself or anybody else, so I was sure to drive the speed limit. I also didn’t need the public scrutiny that would come with getting a DUI. Finally, I made it to London’s house, and I breathed a sigh of relief. I wasn’t sure if she was asleep, but I still hopped out of the truck and walked up to her door. London lived in a nice neighborhood, and she had a gun. I still wasn’t too fond of her living alone though. That was yet another thing that I didn’t have any control or say over. London was a big girl, and she could handle herself, but I didn’t want it to come to that.
I rang the bell and waited to see if she would answer the door. She had a camera mounted above the doorbell. There was a good chance she might look at the camera, see that it was me, and refuse to open the door. A minute or so later, London opened the door with a perplexed expression on her beautiful face. Pregnancy had grown the hell out of her thick locs. They were touching the middle of her back. My wife had a pink robe on, and the smell of her favorite bodywash permeated the air around us. She was freshly showered with a bare face, and all I wanted to do was wrap my arms around her and tell her how she was the best thing that had ever happened to me. Not even all the liquid courage coursing through my veins helped me to open my mouth and say everything that was swirling around in my brain.
There had never been a time in the past when London saw me after days or even hours, and her face didn’t light up. Now, she was looking utterly confused as to why I dared to approach her door and ring the bell.
“Yes?” There was a hint of impatience in her tone that felt like a punch to the gut.
“London, please. Baby, tell me what I have to do to fix this. I’ll do anything. Please, I’m begging.” I made a move to get down on my knees, and London shot me a glare so hateful it stopped me in my tracks.
“Isaac, I have been very nice to you. I’ve probably been nicer to you than you deserve. I am asking you respectfully and nicely to stop the theatrics. I know you’re sorry; I knew the first fifty times you said it. You don’t have to keep saying it. But in the real world, there are some things that sorry just doesn’t heal. Respect my boundaries, and please don’t come to my home uninvited again.”
Her home. Damn.
“You smell like you bathed in alcohol. You know you don’t need to be driving drunk. You need to get it together.” Her tone wasn’t filled with concern. It was more like disgust. She was really done with me.
Not memories, who I was, what I had, or my words changed any of that. I may as well have been a stranger to London. I couldn’t even blame it on pregnancy hormones. She wasn’t a raging, emotional, lunatic. She didn’t have crazy mood swings and fly off the handle about small things. London was the same sweet, genuine, caring person that she had always been. When she entered a room, she brought a sense of calm with her. She had the kind of light shining around her that others envied. I would probably feel better if she acted like she hated me. London was a woman at peace with where we were, and that was a dangerous ass thing.
“I won’t bother you again.”
My stomach churned, and bile threatened to spill into my throat. My wife, the mother of my child, didn’t want shit to do with me, and it was all my fault.
CHAPTER 5
LONDON
No matterhow many times I’d filmed, it still felt odd at times when there was a camera pointed directly in my face recoding my every move and every word that came out of my mouth. We were at lunch, and it was going to be me, Brion, Mya, Vee, and Mahogany. Everyone was present except Mya. That wasn’t anything new because she was usually late.
“Girl, it seems like that belly doubled in size overnight. It’s so cute,” Brion gushed over my bump.
“Tell me about it,” I giggled. “I woke up one day, and I had a belly.”
Shopping was something I loved to do, but I hadn’t purchased any clothes since I found out I was pregnant. I wasn’t sure how big I was going to get and didn’t want to waste money buying a bunch of things. Since my belly was a little bigger, I planned to go out and buy a few outfits but when I was home, I would be fine chilling in sweats and a tee. I so wanted to be one of those women that slayed every single day of my pregnancy but some days, I just didn’t feel like it.
I had worn a white and purple maxi dress to meet the ladies. Since Brion was now a part of the show, I didn’t ask her to do my makeup anymore. I either did my own, used another MUA,or filmed with a bare face. Pregnancy had unlocked a new level of passiveness in me. In the beginning, I wouldn’t have been caught dead with a bare face while a camera was recording my every move. Since being pregnant, if I didn’t feel like putting on makeup then I didn’t, and that was that.
I gave myself a light beat for lunch because baby boy had some dark spots popping up on my face, but it wasn’t too bad. I did a little foundation, light concealer, mascara, and gloss. I literally had my makeup done in ten minutes.
“I remember those days,” Vee sighed. She had a nine-year-old son by an NFL player, and she’d had a few miscarriages by an NBA player. During an argument in season one, Mya called her out and said that she lied about having miscarriages and that she’d really aborted the babies. The women could get downright nasty and constantly being in defense mode in their presence could become draining. But I was making $100,000 per episode, so I would learn to deal.
“Wow,” Mahogany mumbled, and we all looked over at her confused. She shifted in her seat, and Brion’s gaze shot toward the entrance.
“I know you fuckin’ lying.” Her nostrils expanded, and I knew that whatever it was it was bad.
Turning around, I looked to see what had everyone so stunned, and I observed Mya and a skank by the name of Miamor, sauntering toward the table with fake ass smiles on their faces. I didn’t know a thing about Miamor. I only knew her name because the blogs posted it when they ran the story of her fucking Isaac in the club. I knew these bitches could get low, but Mya had taken the cake with this one. I hoped this little stunt was worth the clout she was chasing because from that point on I was done with her ass. She would never step foot into my home, be in the same room as my child, or get more than a few words out of me ever again.
The women sat down, and Mya was the first to speak. “This is my friend, Miamor. I have known her for years, and this isn’t what it looks like. She’s a really sweet person, and she just wanted to come explain her side of what happened.”
My blood literally felt like it was boiling, but I wasn’t going to let either one of those bitches see me sweat. I looked over at Brion and spoke in a very calm tone. “Why is she speaking to me?”
Brion replied to me without ever taking her orbs off Mya and Miamor. “I don’t know, but I’m about to shut all this shit down. Anybody with eyes, ears, and a brain can see that you’re a snake,” Brion read Mya for filth. “But this is a new low even for you. You know that London isn’t the problematic type and even if she was, she wouldn’t do too much while pregnant. You thought you’d walk in here and get a cute little kee at her expense maybe make her cry or at the most, she’d toss a drink in your face. Nah, this ain’t that. I’ll beat yo’ mutha fuckin’ ass in this restaurant, and she won’t even have to breathe on you bitches. We can move tables in this bitch. What’s up?”
Miamor sat there with a slight smirk on her face while Mya’s eyes widened slightly. They didn’t know Brion had it in her, and it would have been funny if I wasn’t so pissed. I’d never let either one of them get a reaction out of me. And while I’d never want Brion engaged in drama on my behalf, the way she handled them was chef’s kiss.
“It doesn’t even have to be all that,” Mya snapped. “I didn’t come up in these people’s establishment to act like a ghetto hood rat. My girl just wanted to tell her side of the story because blogs are painting her out to be the bad guy. You can’t sit like an adult and have a conversation?” Mya’s gaze shifted from Brion to me.
