If I couldn’t feel my body so acutely, I’d be afraid this was all a dream.
He’s perfect. Handsome, thoughtful, curious and maybe…my sexual soul mate. And he’s a lawyer from Ghana.
My parents will be thrilled.
I wonder what the job market for journalists is like in LA.
I sit up, horrified. What am I doing? This man just picked me up and made me come like it’s what he does for a living.
For all I know, itiswhat he does for a living and I’m over here ready to scribble his name in the margin of my diary.
This is exactly how I ended up with the no-good piece-of-shit man I’m just about to be rid of.
Hegot me to settle and hold my career back and support his and he didn’t even give me orgasms.
What kind of foolery would I find myself in over Kwame?
Sin, girl, you’re in danger.
My younger brother’s voice is so clear it’s like he’s in the room with me.
“What have I done?” I crawl off the bed and gather my things, cursing when I can’t find my left earring. I drop to all fours near the window, feeling around in the thick area rug.
The shower stops and I freeze. “Shit.”
My aunt gave me those earrings. A thud on the other side of the bathroom door makes up my mind for me. “That’s what I get for acting like I don’t have sense.”
My Aunt Agnes, God rest her soul, used to warn me and my sister that good sex was every woman’s kryptonite. I’ve never had sex good enough to understand. Until now. Hell, I didn’t even have sex and I’m already imagining what our kids would look like.
My eyes used to be bigger than my stomach.
Figuratively and metaphorically. I’ve learned the hard way. This is more than I can handle in every sense.
My phone beeps with a text. I slip my shoes on and scribble a note of apology and hurry out of his suite like the hounds of hell are after me.
I nearly weep for joy when the elevator doors close in front of me and I’m certain he’s not going to catch up with me.
Chapter Eight
Kwame
The Bequest
The crunch of gravel and rumble of the tires drag me from a deep sleep and I wince against the ray of the late afternoon sun pouring through the window. I peer through partially open eyes until my vision comes into focus.
A flare of dread clears the heavy fog of fatigue and I straighten in my seat to stare at the gleaming white and gold gate our car has stopped in front of.
They rise out of the ground like a celestial portal. The bold bullion-gold crest at the center of it, though, is an instant reminder that beyond them is the house that had been my personal hell.
At least I found heaven last night…before she vanished like a thief in the night. I don’t know how long she’d been gone when I finally came out of the bathroom, but I’d still been able to smell her on the bed.
I went after her but I had no idea what floor she was on. And it was obvious she didn’t want me to find her. So I let it go. It was a better night than I expected and would remain the bright spot of my time in DC.
I know today is what happens when someone dies and has assets to distribute. I understand that my parents come from a matrilineal tribe and I am my mother’s natural and legal heir. But it feels wrong to bedividing up her life into pieces when she wasn’t done living it.
“It’s going to be okay, I’ll be right beside you.” Next to me, my aunt Alice squeezes my hand. I’d forgotten I wasn’t alone.
She’s watching me with a frown that forces deep furrows between her brows.
