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The day after Josie left my house, two weeks ago, I met up with her to tell her it was over. It was hard to do, because I really liked Josie. It wasn’t about romance; the girl was good people. Maybe in another lifetime, we could have been something more. This lifetime, though, belonged to the sexy chick with the dopest body and saddest face.
The night of her run-in with pussy ass Haris, Lex called me saying Josie screen-recorded the call where she heard Ashira and I having sex. Josie’s crazy ass brought the recording to church and played it for Lex in the Bishop’s Office. Shit got ugly because the Carmichaels were my people. Josie, obviously upset, threatened to send it toSpilling That Hot Tea. Lex tried to remind the crazy girl how Ashira wasn’t a real celebrity; she only worked with them. Between her and Ezra, Josie was talked off the ledge, and this message was confirmation of that.
“Then what’s got your panties in a bunch, Witherspoon? Don’t tell me you still trippin’ off of that Haris shit?” He was a marked man. I’d already had Sadik, one of the most hands-on, resourceful people I knew, looking for him. Last month, Haris claimed to want to do business with him. I was hoping to catch him that way. She had nothing to worry about. “You miss your lil’ cupcake, Chi-Chi?”
Baby girl was psyched about starting school next week. She’d even been so good at accepting her mother in my personal space, and vice versa. Having Noelle around more had helped distract Chivon. She hadn’t been sticking underneath us since big auntie moved in last week. I was happy as hell for Noelle. I’d be spending more time with her now.
Ashira shook her head.
“You still feel bad about Nicholas?” I was fishing now.
Nicholas had begun speaking to a therapist, who right away, identified unhealthy amounts of alcohol intake to cope with issues my little brother had been struggling with. We knew it was my pops. Dude was on the path to alcoholism. Nicholas had a long road ahead of him, but my faith was rooted in the ultimate Healer and Deliverer. I’d be right by my brother’s side every step of the way.
Pieces of Ashira’s long bangs aside her gorgeous face whipped when her head swung from left to right. Then her face folded, and she began to cry. I jumped to my feet, dropping my phone onto the sofa.
Her one arm pushed out, telling me to stay away. When I looked at the girl like she’d lost her mind—because she had if she thought I’d ever stay away from her—Ashira’s other arm pulled from her back and toward me. In her hand were three pregnancy testing sticks.
They were used.
The shits were all positive.
That’s when it all started coming back to me in spades. Ashira didn’t drink a single drop of alcohol at dinner, the fight, or the little afterparty Azmir held that we walked through. There were no cigars either. In fact, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen her drink or smoke.
I swept over her body from head to toe. The dress revealed nothing. Ashira was walkway ready with a killer body in damn near five inch heels. I could see her lungs work—her abs—as she cried.
“You’re on birth control.”
Her head shook. “Not since the night I wonIDC.”
My eyes rolled up and fell backward.
“Fuck, Witherspoon!” I groaned, feeling fucked up for the both of us.
Part III
September | Three Years Later
My eyelids parted immediately taking in the sunrays of the bright room. All-white walls, flowy linen drapes dancing against the salty breeze. And there, in the corner of the palatial bedroom was beautifully marred chestnut skin casing powerfully defined muscles curled over into a prostrate position. His voluminous coils were longer, yet lineup cut with precision. And he was mine. All mine.
Abruptly, his eyes opened, and his neck twisted to face me. The softness in Jas’ eyes melted my core. My legs shifted over the mattress.
“You’re up.”
I blinked, tight eyes straining. “You’re stalking me.”
Jas stood in just russet linen pants, and as he sauntered over to me, I tried making out his dick even through the layer of his boxer briefs.
“Who’s stalking who now?” His face was void of an expression. “You hungry?”
“I should eat.”
He sat on the bed, big hot hand caressing my side and hip as I lay facing him. Jas’ eyes shot above my head, and I followed his line of view to the nightstand. A charcuterie board lay there topped with an assortment of cheeses, meats, veggies, and fruits.
“You’re trying to fatten me up.” I sighed, lifting my torso from the mattress to slide up toward the food. “I see your plan, Sinclair. Fatten me up so I get no work or no play from any dudes.” I plucked a cube of cheese and a sliced strawberry from the board.
“I ain’t want you getting sick,” his delivery monotoned. “And you’ll never get fat. Just like you’ll never get play from any other nigga, Ashira.” There was a distinct bite to his tone as he plopped a few grapes into his alluring mouth.
I knew he was being supportive by having food ready for me when I awakened from my nap. Sometimes, morning sickness kicked my ass after a long nap. Today’s kip was definitely long. Jas and I made slow love an hour after waking up for the day. That shit put my ass right back to sleep. And, likely, the tranquility this place provided as well.
