He squeezed my thigh. Look, I know it was an innocent gesture of comfort, I know I should’ve been paying attention to what he was saying, but I couldn’t take my eyes off his hand on my thigh. Or keep my mind on the conversation and not on the way he’d practically seared my pant-covered skin with the contact. And when he finally pulled away, I missed the warmth of his touch.
“Laiya?”
I tore my gaze away from my leg, nibbling on my bottom lip. “Huh?”
“I hate that I didn’t know you were going through something.” He brushed a piece of hair from my face.
I wonder if he realizes he’s touching me. I shifted away from him. “Spence, you know we don’t talk about stuff like this.”
“Why is that?”
“Because I—” I let out a nervous laugh. “Shit, I don’t know. It’s just the way things are.”
While Spence and I grew up in the same neighborhood, we had completely different experiences. The Cross family was a beacon of light in the community. My home was a bottomless pit of hell. He had supportive parents and I had … myshitty siblings, my no-good uncle, my holier-than-thou aunt, and my mother.
“We’re cool,” I explained. “Talking about our problems is not the nature of our relationship.”
“Point taken,” he agreed. “But it wasn’t always like that.”
I averted my gaze. There was one brief moment, before I married my soon-to-be ex, when I found myself so attracted, so drawn to Spence that I wanted to explore it. For a while, I could’ve sworn he’d felt the same way, but I never had the guts to voice it aloud. Then I married Rod. “We can’t talk about that either.”
He bumped my shoulder with his. “A ‘nigga and vibes’? Can we talk about that?”
Leaning forward, I picked up the shot glass he’d just filled and took it. “Shit,” I hissed, holding my throat. “Ugh. That’s nasty.”
We sat in silence for a moment.
“This is hard.”
“What’s hard?” he asked.
I figured the best place to start was the truth. “I filed for divorce last week.” Taking another deep breath, I turned to him. “I married my best friend. I thought that would be enough to sustain us. For a while, it did. Even when we didn’t see eye to eye on how we should run our household, we could still fall back on that genuine friendship. But when Rod turned forty-five, things shifted. He’s always worked long hours, but he was barely home. And even when he was there, he didn’t engage with us. With me. I don’t even recognize him anymore. He’s distant. Nasty, sometimes. Mean.”
Spence sat up straight. “Is he violent?”
I placed my hand on his balled-up fist. “No.” I shook my head for emphasis. “Never. But, Spence, he treats me like an at-will employee sometimes. I’m supposed to devote all my time and energy to him, cater to him, have sex with him … He isn’t interested in making me a priority in his life. His priority is his career, his parents, and his vices. And I can’t take it anymore.”
“What the fuck?”
The part of me that always defended my husband had died when he let his mother borrow ten racks for a cosmetic procedure without asking me.
“And then he …” My shoulders fell as resignation took over. I didn’t bother wiping away the tear that escaped, but I did pay an extraordinary amount of attention to the way it slowly drizzled down my arm before it stopped. I’d spent years pretending to be happy, faking smiles, throwing dinner parties, putting his needs above all else. Over the years, I’d ignoredmeso that I could be everything to him.And I’m tired. Closing my eyes, I let more fall as I cried silently for the dissolution of my marriage.
Spence smoothed a hand over my back. “Laiya, what did he do?”
“Blew up. Destroyed some shit in the house, called me out my name, accused me of abandoning him so I could fuck some other nigga. Then, he drained our joint accounts, the savings thatIworked on alone. The worst part? I was so sure that he would calm down and remember who we once were to each other that I didn’t look out for myself. How could I be so stupid?”
He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me to him. “It’s fucked up, Laiya. But you’re going to be okay.”
I dashed a fresh tear away from my cheek. “I don’t even know why I’m crying. I have my own accounts. It’s not like I can’t support myself.” I swallowed rapidly against the hard lump that had formed in my throat. “I just … It feels like a death.”
“You love him.”
I peered at him, searched his eyes. “I do love him. He’s the father of my daughter. He was my best friend. But if I’m being honest with myself, I haven’t been in love with Rod inyears. We haven’t slept in the same room in months. He has a girlfriend.”
Frowning, he asked, “Did he tell you that?”
“I met her,” I deadpanned. “He brought the bitch to my house yesterday, to get me to react. She works with him. I’m not stupid. He’s been messing around with her since I kicked him out of our bedroom. Probably even before that.”
