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They held hands on the way to the restaurant, but they rode and ate in silence. Harmony had no problem with that. She was just glad she was able to get him out of the house. Once they finished their meals at Kami Ramen Bar, Keith finally spoke again and told her to stop by Kroger. While he went inside the grocery store, Harmony stayed in the car and browsed her social media accounts. Not even five minutes had passed before Keith was getting back in the car with a bouquet of red roses for her.
Harmony gasped before releasing a long, “Awwww,” as her eyes watered.
“I know it’s not much, but I just wanted to do something to let you know I appreciate you.”
“They’re beautiful, baby. Thank you.”
Leaning over the center console, Harmony pulled him close for a hug that turned into Keith giving her a peck on the lips. It wasn’t the deep, tender kisses he’d spoiled her with, but it was a start. As she drove back home, Harmony had a smile on her face.
ChapterSeven
Saint
This was a mistake.
When Saint arrived in Memphis to perform at the Grizzlies game, he texted Whitney to let her know. She hadn’t been answering his calls, so he didn’t expect her to reply to his text let alone accept the two front row seat tickets he left at the box office for her, but she did both. Seeing her while he performed gave Saint’s heart the comfort it had been yearning for—even if it was temporary.
After the game, he went to Tyreek’s gentlemen’s club with the rest of the crew, not expecting to hear from Whitney. She surprised him again by calling him and telling him to come over. While Saint didn’t expect things to turn physical between them, he grabbed a box of condoms to be safe. Three weeks had passed since he’d gotten the penicillin shot, but he knew they all had a long road ahead. The doctor specified the importance of bloodwork within three, six, and nine months to make sure the disease was out of his system. He did inform Saint that it could show up on his bloodwork for the first three months and he still be clean after the first two weeks, but Saint would be using condoms just to be safe.
Hell, a part of him didn’t even want to have sex anymore. It was the first time he’d ever gotten an STD, and the fact that it came from his wife was what fucked with him most.
Whitney’s body may have wanted one thing when she called him over, but now that he was there, her energy gave off a completely different vibe. As soon as she opened the door, she was hugging him and kissing him and telling him how much she missed him. But now, in her bed, her body shook like an autumn leaf. Her chest heaved as she pulled in choppy breaths, and her eyes were squeezed shut as she nibbled her bottom lip.
The sight had Saint’s dick softening quicker than it ever had before. If he needed a sign that things were truly over between them—this was it. It was clear she was nervous and didn’t trust him, and Saint couldn’t blame her. While he may have been a victim himself, Whitney had become one because of him, and that was a truth he couldn’t ignore.
“Whitney,” he called softly, placing a kiss to her left hand. “This ain’t what you want.”
Her eyes fluttered open, and she looked at him as he shifted from between her legs to the side of her in the bed.
“It is what I want.”
“Then it’s not what you need.” Her mouth opened but she remained silent. “You’re shaking bad as hell, bae, and you can’t even look at me. That’s not us.”
Whitney’s head hung. “You’re right.” Her big, doe-like eyes looked everywhere but at him. “I do want you, but… I guess I still don’t trust you. I want to, but I think…”
“This is really over between us.”
Whitney chuckled softly as she nodded. Finally, she looked over at him. Saint took her in, memorizing every feature, because a part of him believed this would be the last time he’d see her for a while… if ever. The pouty, pink lips, high cheek bones, light skin, long butt length hair—all features that Saint had fallen in love with years ago. All features he wondered if their daughter would have. A daughter they’d never be able to conceive.
“Yeah,” Whitney almost whispered. “I tried to convince myself that maybe I was too hard on you. You hadn’t intentionally given me anything, but I can’t, Saint. I’m sorry. I just can’t trust myself with you anymore.”
“You have nothing to apologize for.” Sitting on the edge of the bed, Saint added, “It was my job to protect you, on all sides, and I failed. For some drunk birthday sex with Tristan of all people.”
The whimper of mirth he released quickly morphed into a hardened expression before he chuckled. His amusement was a mere distraction to avoid the anger that slowly simmered within him. There was nothing funny about the situation—at all.
“Have you talked to her about it?” Whitney asked as he stood and began to dress.
“Yeah, she denied it, but I could tell by her eyes that she knows the truth.”
“I hate things played out like this.”
“Maybe God knew this was the only way you’d cut me off.” Saint gave her a sad, bitter smile as his eyes glossed over. “You deserve so much better than what we had, Whit.”
“Yeah, but… I wanted better with you. I was waiting for you.”
“And I appreciate that,” Saint replied quickly, sitting on the edge of the bed and taking her hand into his. “But there’s a lot I have to do before I’m ready to be with a woman like you. Until I can get out of this situation with Tristan, I’m no good to anyone, you feel me? I value you too much to have you dealing with our bullshit.”
Whitney hugged his neck and pulled him close. She kissed his ear before saying, “Please leave her, Saint, before she takes something from you that you can’t get back or gives you something you can’t get rid of.”
