When he finally called a week later, I’d already laid the foundation for my next act. And decided that he wouldn’t play a starring role in it.
It had taken another week for me to feel ready to tell him.
He may not be the love of my life, but he wasn’t always a terrible boyfriend, and I’d decided he deserved to hear it in person.
But if the video I glimpsed is what I suspect, what he really deserves might land me in handcuffs.
I steel myself and open the app with trembling fingers and press play.
They go from talking, to kissing, to fumbling with zippers in less than sixty seconds.
My stomach lurches as I watch them fuck on my desk.
It’s over as quickly as it started but they don’t leave. She sits in my chair, puts her feet up on my desk and laughs. I press the volume-up button a half dozen times before I realize the sound is connected to my earbuds.
I walk over to fish in my bag for them.
As soon as I find them though, I change my mind. I’ve taken enough L’s today.
Numb and reeling, I sit outside until the sun has set.
The phrase “To catch a sinner you’ve got to think like one” wassomething I used to say all the time. I never imagined I would apply it to the man I shared years of my life with.
But I can’t pretend I didn’t see him drilling his dick into the woman who just so happened to write an article lifted from my research days after my laptop was stolen.
I didn’t even know he knew her.
He must think I’m the world’s biggest fool.
Maybe he was right.
But my eyes are wide open now.
As for the woman, she may think she won, but the story she stole isn’t even the tip of the iceberg.
I text Leon. “Tell your friend I’ll talk to her about this Oz. Let’s nail him and everyone around him to the wall.”
I put my phone on DND, climb in the shower, and wait for the sadness to come. It doesn’t. When I climb out, I’m angry and resolved.
I’m not sure what this next chapter of my life will be but I’m sure that this one is over. It’s time to move on.
Chapter Four
Kwame
Lady Luck
My phone vibrates with a text from Paloma. “Thirty minutes away, traffic is a nightmare.”
I text her back right away. “Hey Lo. Sorry my dad got his wires crossed. I can’t make dinner tonight.”
An exclamation point appears on my delivered message and then my phone rings.
I groan and answer it.
“I’ve had this on my calendar for two weeks,” she says before I can say hello.
“How? Until a few hours ago he and I had plans for dinner.”
