She shrugs. “If I handle you just fine, I’m pretty sure I can handle a truck.”
I laugh louder, falling back while she climbs off me and the bed.
“You can take whatever you want,” I murmur, stifling a yawn. “Get my wallet out my shorts on the fl?—”
“Already did that. The money is in my purse.”
“If you see Smitty, tell him I’ll be outside in a minute.”
“I told him you were resting when he tried to walk in the house an hour ago while I was cooking your breakfast. Thank God I had clothes on. He doesn’t knock, Rich?”
“I’ll tell him to start knocking…”
“Uh-huh…and Rich?”
My heavy eyes open up to her leaning against the doorframe. “Yeah, mama?”
“Rest. I can conquer the world for you in the meantime. I promise I won’t mess anything up.”
CHAPTER
FORTY-ONE
LOVIE
One morning on the train,Yesenia told me herblanquitatherapist said the most dangerous time in our relationships wasn’t when we decided we loved men who loved with their fists. It was the time we finally decided we deserved better.
“They get desperate during that time,” she said, taking a sip of her coffee while the train jerked forward. “Because how dare we leave them and break their hearts? They’ll do anything to get you back under their thumb while you’re gone. So if you’re really gonna go no-contact with him, promise me you’re really gonna do that. We already lost two girls at work this month. One didn’t go far enough, and another one met up one last time for closure. Fuck closure, Lovie.”
I inhale the oakmoss and leather scent from the interior of Rich’s truck one last time before pushing the door open for the valet waiting on the other side.
“This is a big truck for such a lil’ lady.” He smiles a dopey, gap-toothed smile.
The valet staff at the Post Oak is just as harmlessly corny as I remember them being from all the times me and AJ stayed here with his parents when they came to visit from Jersey.
“Yeah…my husband is the ‘go big or go home’ type,” I reply.
The valet laughs, holding his hand out for me to grab. “You checking in?”
I shake my head, placing my hand in his cold, dry one and letting him help me climb out of the driver’s seat. “No—just meeting a friend for a quick bite to eat before they catch their flight back home.”
“Bloom & Bee?”
I nod.
He pulls a ticket out of his pocket, scribbles on it, and pushes it toward me. “Got it. We’ll take good care of hubby’s beaut in the meantime.”
He smiles at my outfit, and his eyes stop for a brief second on the Neverfull I found while grabbing whatever I laid my eyes on in my closet last night when I packed at Aunt Faye and Uncle Kenny’s.
AJ called it my “starter bag.” It was the first luxury bag his daddy bought his mama when he became the attending physician at Garden State Medical Center, so it had to be the first one AJ bought me. The leather on it is still its original pale tone because WAGs didn’t care about sentimental starter bags. To them, it was just a “basic bitch bag” or a “mommy bag.” It said I hadn’t been indoctrinated into WAG World where Chanels and Birkins reigned supreme, but at the Post Oak it said I belonged here.
“You got everything you need, right?” the valet asks.
I pull the heavy bag closer to my side. “Yup.”
“Good. They’ll take care of you inside. Enjoy your lunch.”
I gait through one of the doors the doorman holds open and step into the lobby. A familiar pang hits my chest as if I’mvisiting an old friend who I shared more bad memories with than good ones. Men meander around the posh lobby in suits, and their lunch dates follow them around in Sarah Flints and Louboutins. It feels like it’s been years since I strutted through this lobby in my own Louboutins.
