Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 131486 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 526(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131486 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 526(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
“I do worry about you, bruh, keeping all that shit locked up inside.”
“Am I constipated or emotionally stunted?” I ask, managing to crack a smile.
“You keep eating Vashti’s macaroni and cheese, you’ll be both. That girl can cook,” he says and chuckles, leaning against the locker. “This got anything to do with her?”
Do I really want to do this? Crack open this can of worms with Preach, who will keep pressing until my intestines are spilled on the floor? And the hell if I feel like being emotionally disemboweled at the gym.
“That was Yas,” I admit grudgingly. “She needed to swing by my house to get something for Kassim’s science presentation. She let herself in and…”
I blow out a distended breath. “Vashti was still there from last night.”
“Oh, shit!” He straightens from his indolent slump against the locker, eyes alert and a mischievous grin splitting his face. “Like Vashti spent the night, and your ex-wife saw her there? And now she know y’all fucking.”
“Fucked, not fucking. Last night was the first time.”
“But I mean, you’re dating. Not like y’all gon’ stop now that the deed’s done.” His grin widens. “And how was it?”
As close as Preach and I are, I never shared details about sex when I was with Yasmen. He said it was one of the ways he knew how serious it was, because in college, we one-upped each other in our escapades and always jockeyed for bragging rights. Until last night, I hadn’t been with anyone other than Yas since college.
How was it?
It had been a long-ass time since I’d had sex, so of course it felt good to have something other than my hand. It was a release.
But after it was over, with Vashti beside me, I stared up at the ceiling and something cracked inside. The last bit of feeling? The last shred of hope that maybe someday…Nah. I stopped thinking Yasmen and I would reconcile long ago. I stopped wanting it. I could never trust her with my heart, with my happiness, again, but maybe some renegade, obstinate sliver of my soul still felt tethered to her. Even though we’re divorced, that small, stupid part of me felt like I betrayed Yasmen when I slept with Vashti.
I’ve been quiet too long, and the eager look on Preach’s face turns suspicious.
“It wasn’t good?” he asks. “With Vashti? Don’t worry. I’ve heard men fresh out of the joint say sometimes that first time you fuck a woman—”
“Preach, don’t be disrespectful. We’re too old for that shit. It was fine.”
“You know I meant no disrespect. You ain’t been with anyone besides Yas in a long time, so I was asking.” His eyes narrow. “And fine? It was fine? Vashti’s a beautiful woman, and a blind bat can see she’s into you, so fine sounds a little underwhelming.”
“I’m not going into detail with you. I wasn’t even gonna tell your crazy ass.” I chuckle against my will. Preach has that effect. “I better get going.” I dap him up, forcing a smile. “I’m bringing Kassim to the shop soon.”
“’Bout damn time. That boy’s probably got baby locs it’s been so long since he had a haircut.”
“Not quite, but Yas’ll nag him and me to death if I don’t handle it.”
“Get him in first thing before the day gets started good. You know the shop be jumping on Saturdays.”
“Bet.”
And still thinking about the night with Vashti and the awkward call today with Yasmen, I leave.
Chapter Sixteen
Yasmen
I’m dreading this phone call. My last conversation with Josiah was awkward as hell. I’m cringing, thinking of how Vashti probably relayed our encounter.
“No time like the present,” I mutter, pulling my cell phone from the side pocket of my yoga pants and dialing.
“Yas, hey,” Josiah says, picking up on the first ring, but sounding like I only have half his attention. “What’s up?”
“Um, are you busy? If you’re in the middle of—”
“Hold on.” There’s silence for a few seconds before I hear a door close on the other end. “Sorry. I was out in the dining room. I’m in the office now. You need something?”
“I’m going out tonight, and I thought I’d be fine leaving the kids because Clint and Brock would be home, but Brock has a work thing they have to attend so—”
“I can come over, or the kids can come to my place. Whatever.”
“Well, it’s a school night, and I’ll have to take them in the morning, so maybe just pop in to check on ’em here? Deja’s old enough. I just…you know what I mean?”
“It’s not a problem. I’ll swing by. Another girls’ night out? A birthday?”
For some reason, I hadn’t expected him to ask. He hasn’t demonstrated much curiosity about my social life in the past, what there was of it.
“No, actually”—I walk into the kitchen and take a high stool at the counter—“I have a date.”