Page 129 of Angel

One day, I was so fatigued while putting away the dishes that I almost burst into tears because I was too weak to stack the plates.

When I saw my doctor again, she said, ‘The massive uptick in hormones and blood volume takes a toll. So take it easy, eat well, rest. Don’t push yourself too hard.’

I wanted to share the news with Angel, but I sensed the growing distance in my marriage.

He was pulling away from me, locking down his heart.

The joy in my chest curdled into doubt, and I decided to keep the baby a secret for now.

My suspicions about him grew claws over the few days.

Angel kept leaving the house for mysterious midnight disappearances, whispering into his receiver during suspicious phone calls.

My mind spun dark, agonizing scenarios, convinced he was cheating on me.

At the thought, my soul splintered into jagged pieces.

I loved him so much it was killing me, and the idea that he might be betraying me was too excruciating to dwell on.

I hid my desperate desire to share our news, as well as my craving for his touch and for his love.

Still, I maintained a mask of composure, half hoping he’d come clean about what was bothering him, yet secretly thinking I was halfway out the door.

There was no way I’d put up with this shit for much longer.

Angel seemed oblivious to the roiling storm in me, caught up in whatever situation he was managing that kept him away and busy, on top of his band requirements.

We passed each other like ships in the night, that’s if he was ever home.

In fact, the only time we were slated to see one another for a chunk of time in the coming weeks was at the Civic Gala ceremony we were both attending.

Maybe I’d tell him then, when we were more relaxed and out of our daily routine.

ANGEL

One afternoon, I sat in a high-stakes meeting with the label, right in the midst of reworking our Six Sinners’ contracts with our overlords at Knights Music.

The Knights’ executive board and leadership were close friends, given the fact that signing us years ago had led to their very well-lined pockets.

An army of entertainment lawyers, senior record label executives, our management team, and all my brothers filled the massive boardroom when an unidentified number flashed on my screen.

Unknown number: This is Maurice Jones. You seen Evangeline? I need to speak with her. She ran back to you, so you need to give her up.

My blood boiled.

I excused myself from the table with a quick mutter, stood up, and prowled outside the room.

Once I reached the empty marble lobby, my fingers pounded the glass display, setting the boundary hard.

Angel: I’ve nothing to share. Lose this number.

This was the final straw.

With a curse, I dialed Evangeline.

‘Angel?’ she answered, sounding elated.

‘I’m letting you stay in my downtown townhouse for another two weeks max,’ I bit out. ‘After that, you’re on your own.’