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I cleared my throat, not to get his attention, but because it was getting dryer the closer I got to him. At the sound of it, he hurried off his call and turned to face me. As soon as he did, the world started to spin.Myworld started to spin. It didn’t matter how many years had passed; I would never forget Mecca Smith’s face. Time had aged him well, but I didn’t give a damn about that.
The longer I looked into his eyes, the more anger, shame, and hurt filled me—just like it did fifteen years ago. He looked at me as if he was looking at a ghost, and I could understand why. I neared him, and he frowned, like he was the one who had a reason to be upset. Before I could stop myself, I was slapping him with my palm and roaring as I tried to backhand him with the same hand, but he gripped my wrist before I could connect with his face a second time.
“I hate you!” I yelled as my eyes blurred with tears.
I was never the type to draw attention to myself with public displays of emotion, but I had years’ worth of anger reserved for Mecca. Gone was the thirty-three-year-old established woman with emotional intelligence. I felt like that eighteen-year-old girl, lost in the world, lacking control of herself and everything else, all over again. His hand wrapped around my neck and Mecca pushed me into the nearest wall. As he squeezed, I wondered for a brief second if he would actually kill me.
“You hate me?” he gritted. “I hateyou!”
The commotion caused a few people to rush into the room. As I kicked him, they pulled him off me.
“You bastard!” I yelled as a man I didn’t know carried me out of the room. “You’re a piece of shit, Mecca! I regret the day I ever met you!”
“Fuck you, Lom! You the one! You ruinedevery-fucking-thing!”
Scoffing, I gripped the frame of the door. “Iruined everything? You lied to me! I hate you! I hate you! I fucking hate you!”
All I could do was yell that I hated him as I was carried out because I did. I really, truly did. Nothing consumed me more in that moment than my hate for him. And that was crazy, seeing as I was in love with him—had been since I was fourteen. Even after all these years, no man evoked emotions within me the way Mecca did—good or bad. I would always tell myself our love was so strong because we were young, and young love was always more intense. There are fewer guards and boundaries, less pride and ego. The love is expressed easier and it's often purer. But telling myself that hadn’t stopped me from being disappointed with adult relationships because the love never felt the same.
Carter was the only other man I considered marrying, and because of our differences, we were not as compatible as me and Mecca.
Me and Mecca.
There was no me and Mecca. Not after the way he betrayed me.
Pulling myself out of the man’s arms, I rushed down the hall and repeatedly stabbed the down button on the elevator. My entire body shuddered as I fought back tears and a guttural groan that was begging to be released. A trembling hand covered my mouth as I swallowed it down like vomit. I rushed into the elevator, sinking onto the floor as I waited for it to take me to the ground level of the building. The calming music did nothing to soothe my rattled nerves and shattered soul.
I always wondered how it would feel if I ran into Mecca when I returned to Memphis.
Nothing could have prepared me for this moment.
Nothing.
The elevator chimed, and I made a quick dash for my car. I dropped my keys and purse as I opened the door, but I didn’t even give a damn. Slamming the door behind me, I gripped the steering wheel as I released every moan, wail, and tear that demanded to be released.
I’m not sure how long I sat in my car sobbing before the door was opened, and a man who was vaguely familiar lifted his hands in surrender.
“I don’t mean you any harm,” he rushed out. “I saw you crying and couldn’t stop myself from coming to check on you.” He seemed genuine, and even if he wasn’t, I was in such a bad state that I’d take comfort from anyone. As I cried harder, he told me, “C’mere, angel.”
He pulled me out of my car and into his arms with care. I allowed him to hold me, to rock me gently, until my cries turned into whimpers. When he pulled me from his chest to wipe my face, I looked into his eyes.
My head tilted as I tried to place where I knew him from. He looked at me inquisitively as well, but I don’t think for the same reason. That’s when it hit me.
“What’s your name?” I asked, but before he could answer, I added, “Parker?”
His head jerked slightly in confusion. “Yeah, how do you know me? Are you a client?”
My chuckle was low as I wiped the rest of my tears. “Carina is my best friend. She showed me a picture of you.”
As recollection filled him, he gave me a smile that I was sure made Carina pine. “That’s my darling. You’re one of the friends she raves about?”
“I am,” I answered proudly as he put some space between us now that I was composed. “I’m Shalom.”
His countenance dropped at the same time as his shoulders. “Shalom?”
“Yeah. Don’t tell me she’s been talking shit about me.”
“Oh, no. Not at all.” Parker chuckled nervously as he stuffed his hands in his pockets. “It’s just… I have a friend who had an ex named Shalom that’s all.”
