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Hot waterfrom the rain shower rains down on me like a melody of darkness and sorrow. Hot tears burn my throat. I’m so tired of crying over him.
Exhaustion I just now allow myself to feel eats at me. How dare he accuse me when he’s carrying on with that girl? Sure, she’s beautiful—tall, with tawny skin coupled with striking hazel Spencer eyes—but I never tried to compete with her. He was hers. I respected their relationship even when I became old enough to do something about it.
Kissing him last year was the biggest mistake of my life. I lost my best friend and possibly my future. I’ve lost my husband——if I ever had him. Who wants a marriage like this? We are living a lie.
While I lather my body, I resolve not to wait for him to throw me away. “I’m leaving him,” I say aloud to myself, making it real.
“Oh, yeah?” he asks way too casually as he stands fully clothed, save for his socks and shoes. He’s swirling a whiskey, his eyes knife blades slicing into me.
“Yeah,” I affirm, turning my back to him to wash off. I hear him sit the glass down. Seconds later, he’s pressing me against the warm tile.
“The fuck you are,” he says viciously through gritted teeth in my ear. His clothed body gets drenched as he pushes his taunt strength against me. From in front of Mathias, I feel every hard ridge of him against me. I’m trapped between a wall and a harder place.
“Yes. I. Am.” I mean that shit, bucking, trying to no avail to budge my burden. “I’m done with this bullshit. You are carrying on with your ex, disrespecting me.” Hurt burns through me like hot acid.
“What do you expect me to do, huh? Not talk to her? She’s the assistant campaign manager. Natalie staying on to play her part is why we even still have a chance. She’s the one hurt by this shit you and your cousin pulled.” He grabs me by the nape.
Sick of Mathias, I elbow him in his side as hard as I can, shoving him in one direction as I move in the opposite one. The water makes him slip, and as he catches himself against the wall, I scoot right on past his bullying ass.
Hearing the slap of his clothes hitting the tile, but doing my best to ignore him, I moisturize my body and detangle my hair. I put my leave-in conditioner on my curls and twist them into two ponytails.
Just as he comes out of the shower, still seething, I whirl on him. “Y-you said you forgive me,” I accuse.
“I lied.” His eyes might as well be dead for as much life he has in them. “And give me my goddamn turtle back—you’re not fit to have her.”
“And you are? Your mean ass will let her die out of spite.” I try not to let him know just how much his words wound me. He gave me Bernice Sanders when he first moved to Birmingham for good to keep me company when he wasn’t around. Neither of us knew at the time the pet he got illegally from one of Angel’s suppliers was a giant turtle.
You knew better, my mind whispers. He’d had the rug pulled out from under him too many times by his malignant narcissist of a father who played cruel games with both Mathias and his mother, then had them forgive him, only to do something worse. Now, he thinks I’m doing the same thing. He believes I pretended to be his friend only to get access to his wealth and power.
If someone wrongs me, they will never get a second chance, he said one night we were hanging out on his gran’s porch.I don’t have to worry about that from you, do I, darling?
With what I know was probably hero worship and the first buddings of unrequited love, I looked him in the eyes and said clearly,Never.
“I didn’t do it. I don’t know how she found out about us, Thi,” I tell him. “Now I see you really believe this, and that hurts worse than anything. Because you know me better than anyone. You should know I would never do you like that. We’re supposed to be best friends.” I’m so proud of myself for being able to keep my voice steady.
He remains stoic as I start leave him there heading to the bedroom. “I told you not to call me that name ever again.”
I turn back. “Hm, I guess that’s now only reserved for Nat, who never called you that before. That’s okay. Blay is fine with me using his nickname.” Forcing a laugh, I flounce off.
My body takes flight before I even realize he’s touched me. I hit the bed in a tumble, rolling head over tail until I come to a ball near the middle of the king size bed.
“I see you forgot who the fuck you married.” He sneers down at me like a god looking down on a pitiful sinner.
“I don’t know who I married. You are not the guy I thought you were,” I yell at him, coming up on my elbows, slowly creeping away from the furious beast he’s morphed into.
“The dumb motherfucker you had fooled? No.” He gives a slow shake of his head. “He was only for the person I thought you were. A good girl who fell on hard times. Not a lying little bitch who deserves my hand on her ass.”
I try to quicken my crawl away, but he grabs my ankle, dragging me back to him.
“Where the fuck you going? Talk that shit now. Call that motherfucker’s name again like you did a moment ago.” Dragging me over his knee, he waits, daring me. I promise I don’t know what makes me do it. I know what the result will be and maybe that spurs me on.
“Blay,” I say loudly, infusing sexy breathiness into it, letting the name drop like an anvil on Wile E. Coyote’s head.
The silence is tense and palpable.
“Ahhh,” I cry when his hard, heavy hand connects with my bottom. Reaching back, I try to stop him. He grabs my wrist before pinning it high behind my back.
“I see you think I’m the motherfucker to play with. I have never been that guy despite what you think. I don’t care if it takes me all night to show you who you belong to.”
