Kong pushed himself off the wall. She was still holding his hand, leading him toward the seating area of the restaurant when a tall figure emerged from the men’s bathroom. Ayla damn near pissed herself when she came face to face with Qassen for the first time since catching him with his fiancé. His eyes spread like two saucers, eventually roaming to her hand in Kong’s and how possessive he was in her space.
“What’s up, Lala?” he greeted her, appraising her in the denim skirt, crop top, and wedges.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, looking around to see if she was being Punk’d.
“My mama invited my grandparents into town for the draft. We’re having brunch,” he told her as a murderous glint filled Kong’s eyes.
“Enjoy,” she replied, no kind of pleasantry in her tone when she narrowed her eyes at him.
When she brushed by, he and Kong sized one another up.
“Can we talk for a minute?” Qassen stopped her.
“What could we possibly have to talk about, Qassen? What would your pregnant fiancé think?” Ayla joked.
“Look, that shit wasn’t what it was. Turns out the baby ain’t even mine,” he confessed, throwing his arms up.
“Well, I can’t seem to find any empathy for you or your situation. We don’t have anything to talk about.”
“So, after two years together, that’s how it is?” he challenged, watching Kong’s jaw tighten from the interaction.
He didn’t know the details of Ayla’s love life and didn’t care to. This fuck nigga was irritating him, though. Kong removed his hand from hers. She was obviously in her feelings regarding the situation because her palm was starting to sweat.
“If you need to talk, say the word.”
“Kong, I?—”
“Let him speak his piece. I’ll be at the table.”
She watched him slip away before fixing her glare on Qassen. She gave him points for still looking good. Waves on swim, sideburns and goatee perfectly lined. He was casual in slacks and a navy button-up shirt as he palmed one of his fists and bowed his head. Ayla thought Kong might feel a way about this, so she didn’t want to give him too much of her time.
“What is it?”
“I fucked up. I miss you.” He tried to reach for her hand, and she swiftly moved it out of his reach.
Scoffing, Ayla’s deep brown eyes roved over him in contempt.
“What exactly do you want me to do with that?”
“I been calling you. Texting you, even trying to DM you. You blocked me on everything,” he argued.
“For good fucking reason,” she sneered. “The only reason you’re saying any of this right now is because you got played.” She aimed a finger at him.
“Even my mama been asking about you. She couldn’t stand Leah when I brought her around?—”
“Oh, so your raggedy ass mama knew about the bitch too and was smiling all in my face?” she taunted, tucking her arms across her chest.
Qassen’s expression cracked like an egg before he nervously stroked his forehead. Nothing he was saying was coming out right. He tried to come up with a speech for when he did see her again, but it was all jumbled in his head now that she was in his presence.
“Do us both a favor, Qassen. Move on. There ain’t shit between us but resentment at this point.”
“Because of that thug ass muhfucka you walking around with?” His thick brows drew together in anger.
He hadn’t expected her to move on and be glowing and shit so soon. She was supposed to be somewhere miserable, waiting by the phone for him to call, eating gallons of ice cream. Now she was even finer than he remembered. The insecurity behind her gaze was replaced with the confidence that always rested inside her. Being with Kong had made her realize that she’d been downplaying who she was to cater to a man, and that wasn’t how she wanted to live her life.
“That would be none of your fucking business. You lost any rights to information about my life.”
“So it’s just fuck us and everything we had?”
