#4evemore

I’m going to hell. 

Was the first thought Lorraine Dallas Dubois had when she walked in the door of her Georgia home at approximately 10:12pm that evening. 

Lips swollen, body fevered, and stomach pitted. Dallas felt stuck under the haze of what she just finished doing almost twenty minutes prior. 

As she drove herself home under the gaze of the setting sun, anytime her collar moved against her neck she swore it was his lips. Whenever her dress shifted upward ever so slightly on her thigh, she envisioned his hands there. And as she stood in the floor length mirror of her bedroom examining the all too new relaxed and quelled naked body before her, she secretly wished it was still pressed up against the heat of his as it once was. 

Dallas tried her best to banish the thoughts, or more like replays, that dashed throughout her mind while she feeably attempted to carry on with her night as if nothing had ever happened. 

But what the body knows, it will reveal in true fashion as it cannot lie. And this was evidenced by the way her lidded eyes took in the glide of her hand slithering down the canvas of her dark skin until it reached the place his fingers had danced along, but she hadn’t dared let him touch. 

Fingertips had played with the lace of he maroon panties but had lingered as she’d silently made it clear that she wasn’t ready to go there with him, not again at least. 

So why was she so frustrated and disappointed with herself that she’d hadn’t been able to have him fully? And more so, why was she so angry at herself for wanting him that way in the first place? 

Questions she couldn’t quite bring herself to figure out, so instead she decided to push the thoughts away with a familiar pleasurable distraction whose home was in the bottom drawer of her nightstand table. 

Mr. Purple. 

His naming an act of laziness on her part, because of the obvious color scheme of violet rabbit vibrator, was the total opposite of its purpose as she had many nights gotten busy and enjoyed the ‘work’ he put in every time they mingled. 

However even with the company of this battery operated companion, it still didn’t do enough to banish his voice from her head completely.

Instead it enhanced it.

“ Your body remembers me.” He whispered against her ear, a series of chills crept down her spine that his fingertips could feel, producing a faint smile against his lips. 

“ I wish it didn’t.” She mumbled, hands exploring the crest of his clothed shoulder feeling the soft dips and hard ridges that had been made way through manhood and the Marines,“ Trust me, I’ve tried to forget. Many times over.”

“ Well I told you before I’d never let us be strangers.” His lips placed a kiss at the swell of her breast, the width of his hands together covering the span of her back he’d keep massaging, “ And I intend to keep my promise, Precious.” 

He lifted his face to be mere inches away from hers as he whispered “ Always.” Before she leaned in, recapturing his lips and falling back once again into a rhythm that would surely lead to their sweet demise if they weren’t careful. 

But it was all a memory now, and after four persistent rounds with the sexual rabbit, it was a memory that was instead seared into her brain. So after she got up showered, cleaned up, sorted through that box of papers and letters that had sat untouched in her office, re-arranged and moved around pairs of heels by color coordination, then all over again by brand, Dallas was still no closer to closing her mind to him.

And after all else had failed when she glanced at the ticking clock on her wall, she figured she had no choice but to air out her grievances with herself out loud under the careful jurisdiction of another party who had expert experience with her dilemma. And she was certain that this person was up during this ungodly hour. 

That is why Dallas sat propped up against her pretty ivory couch, bowl of cherry chocolate ice cream in hand, as she watched Almeda De Roux, move about her Louisiana kitchen concocting God knew what to introduce to the frequent patrons of L'Art de Vivre, where she was the Sous Chef. 

Dallas had met Almeda almost five years ago during the time of apprenticeship post graduation at the Heroux Parlor of Baton Rouge under the watchful eye of Althea De Roux, the owner of the home and Almeda’s mother.

And while Alemda hadn’t opted to travel along the same path of Dallas as being a legacy mortician and instead taking after her maternal grandmother, they still found a way to bond over tales of growing up in a funeral home, mutual love for food, and even more niche topics of interest. 

Ever since then they’d become dear friends and fierce confidants for one another for even the most  titillating and wisped secrets that could appear. 

That is why the young mortician felt comfortable divulging one of the biggest secrets she’d obtained in years, “ If I tell you something, it has to be a secret.” Dallas huffed, “ I’m serious, Al. Not even, Death can know. At least not yet.” Mavis’s nickname slipped off the tongue like a hushed warning.

“ Dallas..” The Chef’s voice wavered, “ You know I’m crappy at keeping secrets. Remember Mavis’s surprise party last year! ” 

“ Really? Like how you’re keeping a secret that every night you’re laid up with–

“ Okay! Okay! Alright! Mouth stays shut.” Almeda surrendered. 

Dallas narrowed her eyes at, “ Honest.” Almeda’s hands shot up. 

“ I promise on my great-maman’s gumbo recipe that I won’t breathe a soul of this to anyone...not even Moi.” She swore in seriousness, enough to promise not to inform, Moira, her elder sister and best friend. 

“ Oh you’re serious, huh? Ready to sell the family secrets kinda serious, are we? ” Dallas threw up her hands, “ Fine. Here goes.” 

“ Before I called you tonight....the first part of the evening I wasn't here at the house yet.” Dallas began, feeling the face of her palms beginning to ache again as finger imprinted red crescents into her skin. 

“ Okayyyy. Then where were you?” Almeda reached for a handful of garlic, adding it to the stewing pot of chicken feet and potatoes, “ At work I would imagine.”

“ Yeah. I mean I-I was in the funeral home’s parking lot.” Dallas tried steadying herself, “ But I was parked in a car…”

The Chef’s face morphed into one of confusion, wondering if the information she’d just received was somehow distorted through the phone’s screen.

“ With Terry Richmond.” Dallas blurts the latter, making Almeda’s eyes pop with shock as she focuses on now burning the oil in the Ruffoni Symphonia pan. 

“ Bitch...” Almeda whispered, “ No….” 

“ Hoe…yes.” Dallas parroted, “ And we kissed….alot….like for maybe thirty minutes….might’ve been an hour. I can’t fully remember. Everything started to feel fuzzy and warm…..and wet.” The last part being muttered as she closes her eyes and bracing herself for another outburst from her overly animated friend.

But instead after a few moments of silence, cautiously Dallas peeked one eye open in the direction of her screen, to see the young woman standing there at the stove dangerously close to boiling over her pot, with her almond eyes blown wide and lips slightly agape.

 As no audible words passed them.

“Almeda…” 

“ I don’t know what to say…I mean this is–this is–” 

“ Yeah..” Dallas sighed, running a hand over the surface of her thigh, “I–yeah.”

Almeda made a frustrated noise as she hurriedly returned to tending to the thick, rich, mess of a mixture in efforts to thin it out, all the while trying to make sense of the mess her friend had managed to mix herself into. 

“ I mean I didn’t even know you guys were speaking again…let alone meeting up in parking lots and sucking face with one another. I–when did he even get back there? How long have you been talking to each other again? And when did–

Dallas watched as Almeda’ss face suddenly drained of all her color, before it was quickly replaced and painted with a noticeable hue of red against her mahogany skin.

“ What?” Dallas’s voice had suddenly grown small at the new tension birthed in the air.

“ Lorraine Dallas Dubois…” Almeda’s voice was hard, an unusual occurrence which made Dallas instantly cower some in a kind of strange fear, “ You better tell me the truth when I ask…isn’t Terry still engaged to that nasty girl you two went to high school with.” 

“ I–” 

“ Mmm Mmm.” Almelda hazardously aimed a gravy covered spoon at Dallas with precision, “ Like my Mama always says. It’s a perfect yes or no question.” Her arms folded across her chest in a small attempt to look intimidating, “ So answer.” 

“ Yes.” A sheepish smile appeared on her face, “ And it’s funny you should mention that because the only reason why stopped…is because she called him…” 

“ My Lord, Dallas!” Almeda’s head immediately hung as her hands flew back to their previous home on her face, "You're out here having an affair?! Seriously!” Her fists hit the side of the apron as she positioned herself to look at Dallas’s distressed form on the screen again, “ And with him of all people?! After everything he put you through!” 

“ I thought you would’ve spent the block with the cowboy before you ever ventured back to the Marine! I mean I even put money on that to happen…but THIS? This is crazy, D. Seriosuly...”

Dallas went into quick defense,“ No no no! I–

“ Wait a minute! You placed a bet that I would get back with Travis?! Al really…with who?!” 

A shocking revelation indeed, that anyone in their right mind was still rooting for Dallas Dubois and Travis Pointer to be together. A name she hadn’t dared to utter since she left him that night standing alone under that soft yellow Louisiana lamp light that in the moment highlighted his true self. 

“ Mr. Stokes….and Mavis….and my Mama. Possibly your Aunt Tootie…” The chef rattled off a list of invested parties.

“ Almeda!” 

“ What?!” She defensively squealed, “ Can you blame us?! I mean you were there! You know how y’all were. It was a safe bet at the time…or so I thought. But I guess Stokes and I were wrong! Now I owe both your Aunt and my Mama fifty each. And I have to make Mavis’s spoiled ass a thing of flame broiled prawn tacos. So thanks a lot, actually Dallas!” 

“Well I’m sorry I—” 

“ Wait a minute, bitch! What am I about to apologize to you! You should be apologizing to me!!”

“ For what?!” Almeda shrieked. 

“ fOr WhAT?” Dallas childishly mocked, “ For doubting me, hoe!  For thinking that I’d double back with Travis! That’s offensive!” 

“ Again can you blame me! You’re doubling back with Terry.” And just like that Almeda had successfully gagged her friend who frantically tried to recover. 

“ Oh please! This-this isn’t a double back.” Dallas fumbled about, “ It’s more like a moment of weakness. Or-or closure? Right? Yeah that's what this feels like.” The lie was not even convincing enough for herself, so when she looked at the strong deadpan from Almeda hardening through the screen, she wasn’t surprised.

“ Yes Dallas, because the best way to get closure is to suck face and grind in a parked car with your ex.” The Chef’s monotone made the mortician become squeamishly bashful.

“ Hey! I never said anything about grinding!” Dallas defended, “ And he’s not my EX!” 

“ Oh please! You didn’t have to! Cause I know you and how you get down, Dallas. Remember!” Almeda pointed the wooden spoon at her screen once more, “ I’m still traumatized from when I caught you and Travis in the supply closet downstairs at the home. And yes I believe y’all are still going to hell for that! The blue part in fact!” 

At the mention of the incident, a flashback of fumbling hands, hushed sullen words, a consuming heat, and a funeral home closet all came rushing back to her at once. She quickly banished the thoughts before the skin of her back could begin heating. 

“ ANYWAY! None of it matters, Al!” Dallas argued, “ Terry is engaged, I’m maintaining a distance between us moving forward, and I’m also visiting out west next week. So everything will soon be as it was.” 

At the mention of an out west visit, Almeda found curiosity overpowering her agitation as she reached for a saucer plate, “ Oh? A visit out west! Do tell! You still working off a debt?” Almeda wiggled her eyebrows making Dallas laugh. 

Almeda had always been one of the few friends could openly talk about that part of her life with. Especially since Almeda had recently found herself in a similar situation with a well to do Executive Chef up in Old Metairie…whom her family had history with. Deep history in fact. 

Recently she’d confided in Almeda about how her companion had kept her suspended in a hot furled mixture of equal parts agony and ecstasy over a hours long video call after she’d accidentally confessed to reliving herself the night before she’d met with Terry on the funeral steps. 

Even worse, she confided in Almeda about just how much enjoyed it…

“ I’m not sure, yet…but I hope so.” A heat surging through her chest, “ Even though by the end I was out of it while he talked me down, I do remember him mentioning something about being proud but not satisfied..”  

“ Hmm. Sounds promising. Although speaking of satisfaction, you got any good leather cuff recommendations. Last time I visited him, he was squirmy and it kind of pissed me off. So I need something that could contain him when he gets to knuckin’ and buckin’. But I also don’t wanna leave too deep of marks on his wrist…his sleeves won’t hide that in the kitchen.” 

“OH! I understand!” Dallas happily chirped, “ I have a few. But first off, let me ask how deep are we talking here…” 

—

After her intellectually profound conversation with Almeda on the properties and confounds of the proper leather cuff to human wrist ratio.

It would seem that the next couple of days had gone fabulous…that is fabulously awful as the young woman found misfortune after misfortune occurring. So much so, to the point Dallas had begun to wonder if her ancestors, specifically her great-grandmother, had begun to punish her for her transgressions with a promised man.

With evidence of this seemingly becoming more concrete as she found herself stranded in the middle of buttfuck Savannah at the center of heavy downpour with a flat she had no idea how to fix. 

She was running out of options…well all but one, as her finger hovered over his contact.

And because it had been a rare off day for the newly minted owner and operator of Richmond & Co Construction, he was soundly at home. And while he may not have been preoccupied with measurements, framing, and the pungent smell of pouring concrete. He still felt as if there was a stench in the air around him.

Deceit. 

And with it wafting about in the air surrounding him, he found it hard to focus on anything around him, including his fiancee whose touch expanded across his body. 

But…

Her lips weren’t hers.  

Her touch wasn’t hers. 

When he took a deep inhale against the skin of her neck, the scent of her skin didn’t make his heart flutter the way it did when he smelled hers.

The bottom line was she wasn’t her. 

And while that should’ve killed Terry, it didn’t.

He was used to the feelings by now. The same guilt and disappointment that he secretly harbored every morning for the last eight years when he’d open his eyes, turn his head, and look to see the person laying next to him wasn’t her. With an accompanying thought then plaguing his mind of who she could’ve possibly been laying next to each night other than him. 

As he laid there, head lulled against the back of the couch, eyes shut, allowing his hands to roam every part of his fiancee’s neck in hopes to grasp onto something that could keep him tethered in the moment while he made effort to produce tiny noises and shift every few minutes to give off the illusion that he was enjoying the effort from below, Terry couldn’t quite help himself from thinking of her. 

More so the way he’d seen her so many nights before in the confines of his truck.

Cheeks flushed. Brows furrowed. Lips parted as he moved his hands closer and closer up her thigh to where his fingertips had graced the lace waistband of her panties whose color he’d pondered. 

His ears were haunted by the noises she’d made in her ear. Sweet. Melodic. Soft.

In fact it was this never ending soundtrack of her cycling over and over in her brain, being the only thing currently keeping him hard.

He tried banishing the thoughts, feeling guilty enough as it was while trying to conjure thoughts of the literal woman in front of him that he’d hoped would fuel his lust swamped brain. But he couldn’t concentrate on anything else but that night. 

And the constant buzzing of his cellphone laying idly beside him on the couch wasn’t helping. 

Actually it was becoming quite annoying. 

Making a move to lean over the grab the device he was met with immediate opposition from a sweat beaded Nefari as she used the back of her hand to wipe at her mouth, “ Ignore it, baby. Pay attention to me.” She purred, attempting to resume her work. But it was already too late. 

From the second he looked at his screen and saw her name lit up across it, it was too late. 

The moment was gone as he rushed to hit the green button,“ Hey, what’s up. You alright?”

“ Listen, I'm sorry to be calling you. Cause I promise on my black Manolo Mary Janes I literally would’ve called anyone else but you.” 

 “ But Mama and Mr. Saul are in Florida, Aunt Tootie’s in Atlanta at a hair show, Mr. Duncane is at a massive service today. I've tried calling Mavis but she isn’t answering and neither is anyone at the home. This is Anora and Ethan’s only day to sleep in child free, so I didn’t wanna bother them. I’ve hit my roadside assistance button like forty times and all I’m getting is static. And I called the tow truck but the nearest one is an hour away and some change out and I don’t know what to do.” She rambled, feeling the mist begin her eyes. 

Navigating to the contacts list on his phone in search of a number, Terry immediately tried to console her, 

“ Listen, stay put. I’m on my way. One of the guys at the site has an old boom. I'm sure he can hitch to the truck, so Imma’ call and have him meet me there.” 

“ In the meantime. Get back in the car, turn your hazards on. And try to relax. It’s gonna be fine, Dallas. I’m on my way.” He assured, mutli-tasking by drafting a text message to his colleague. 

Upon hearing the name, the realization, and the small thank you from her she heard come from the receiver before the three beeps that followed, it all combined was enough to send Nefari into a rage. 

“ Terry are you fucking serious right now!” She screamed, “ What the fuck is wrong with you running up after her like that. I can’t fucking believe you!!!” 

“ Nefari don’t start.” Terry groaned, getting up from the couch adjusting himself.

“ No, fuck that Terry!!” Her voice continuing to shake the small amount of pictures on the wall, “ I am gon’ start cause what the fuck are you doing right now.”

“ Nefari, her tire popped out there by the Brier fields on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere. It’s raining hard as fuck outside, it’s cold, and she can’t get ahold of anybody.” He reasoned.

“ So what the fuck does that have to do with you? She got money! Her ass can’t pay for roadside assistance. All that fucking money her and them people make up there!” She raged.

His jaw ticked, “ She has that. But it’s not working. Which is besides the point, Nefari.” Terry huffed moving around the room to find his keys and sweatshirt, “ She called. She needs help. I’m going to help her. End of story.” 

“ Oh yeah? Well how would you feel if I had another nigga to come and help me with my tire, Terry. What then?” Hands coming to each side of her hips.

“ Honestly I wouldn’t care, Nef. Especially if you were in a similar situation like this. As long as you were safe, that’s all that would matter to me.” He answered truthfully. 

“ Right.” She bitterly, “ So I guess that means you wouldn’t be mad if I answered the phone for another nigga while you was on your hands and knees eating my box either?” 

“ Matter of fact. What if while you were gone, I called a nigga over here right now to finish what you should’ve started. Then what, nigga?” She clapped.

“ At this point, Nefari. No. I wouldn’t.” Terry snapped, “ Just make sure when he brings his ass over here. Have him take his shoes off at the door. I don’t have time to be cleaning up no mud or scuff marks that whatever lame ass nigga you ring might put on my fresh buffed floors.”

With that Terry swung the front door of the apartment open and shut it just as fast while ignoring the explicits his fiancee screamed to only herself now.  

He took the whole drive in silence, except for the heavy rain against the windows, to sit and ponder about what the fuck he was acutally doing with his life, and what he wanted out of it.

The only reprieve to these complex thoughts was when he pulled to the side of the road to see Dallas under her overly large umbrella and Mitch talking as her car lifted onto the flat bed. 

When he walked up, he instantly took in the dried mascara hiding under her eyes and concluded two things. 

She’d been scared and she was upset now.

Dallas absolutely hated thunderstorms, a thing she hadn’t grown out of from when they were kids.

“ Come here.” Terry’s voice lulled, arms inviting her in. Thankful she allowed his embrace, he wrapped his arms tight around her, face buried in the top of her hair.

In return she sighed into his chest, body relaxing as she took in his scent.

“ Am I taking you home?”

“ Mhmm.” Dallas hummed, “ If you could drop me off I’d appreciate it.” 

“ Whatever you want, Precious.” He ushered her to the side of his truck, opening the door and helping her step inside, sure not to bump her Coach wedges as he closed her door so they could set off down the flooded road.

The car ride to Dallas’s place had been painfully silent, only the melody of  Janet Jackson’s All for you cheerily playing helped to somewhat ease the mood, but not expel it. 

All both parties could do was look out their respective windows, her short black square nails clutching her Tory Burch tote tight, and him white knuckling the steering wheel putting pressure on the finger that held his family signet ring. 

Dallas would be lying if she said a sense of relief hadn’t washed over her when she noticed through the blurry windshield that they’d finally turned onto her street. Yet once parked in her driveway, listening to bang and batter of the fierce weather, she knew there was only one thing reluctantly left to do. 

“ If you want, you can come in until the storm passes at least.” Dallas offered, “ Wait for it to die down.” 

“ Dallas I’m not sure—

“ I’m being polite here, Terry. Take it or leave it. But either way I’m going inside now.” She firmly spoke over her shoulder while maneuvering to ready her umbrella.

She had just fixed her hand upon the door handle, when in a flash he was already coming around to open her door and help her down with a hand on the small of her back that made all the hair on her body raise.

Once inside Terry felt himself relax some, the smell of her filling the atmosphere. 

Looking around he took in the color scheme immediately. 

Palette of cremes, tans, and soft pinks that adorned the house. 

Then it hit him.

He was in her home, a moment he’d only dreamed of…many times more than he’d care to admit. 

“ I’m gonna go change really fast, so feel free to snoop around. But I promise ya’ ain’t gon’ find anything.” She called out, asscending up the staircase. 

And snoop he did. 

Taking in the space that utterly was overwhelmed with her. 

From the vases of full magnolias and peonies, to the mindful art she was sure had been supplied by Mavis or Ramsey who’d always had an affinity for art.

He moved along taking in the polish and sparkle of the living room windows and large glassy creme french doors, consciously he made a note to himself to interrogate her about the strength of her home alarm system, noticing inconsistencies and small windows of opportunities for someone with not so great intentions. 

From there he moved to her mantle, pictures scattered on its top Of moments he knew she’d considered precious. Like her holding a fresh born Carson at the hospital for the first time, a shining portrait of her and her distant cousins sitting on the porch of her grandmother’s home in Oklahoma, her and Ramsey standing together and smiling big his wedding, and a picture of her sitting side by side at a bar with a ginger haired girl he’d never seen before. 

Though his traveling eyes stopped and his hand reached out to grab one specific black frame that held an image from Dallas’s graduation from Tulane that he wasn’t allowed to attend, but had desperately wanted to be there for. 

Lined up from left to right was Lucas, Ramsey’s husband, who stood smiling and holding an infant Rahmeiah, next to him stood his husband's smile bright and wide with his arm wrapped around his crying mother whose wet eyes were fixed on her daughter. 

Dallas stood tall adorned in her cap, gown, plethora of cords, and her baby pink pumps with the bows on the strap that he remembered helping her pick out after countless hours and many stores.

She glowed standing there beaming with pride and joy. One arm around her mother and the other around Anora who stood at her side, hand half covering her face to hide the smeared makeup that her tears had left. 

The picture was absolutely beautiful, which is why it shouldn’t have bothered him as much as it did seeing it. And probably wouldn’t have if it wasn’t for the notion that he knew he should’ve been there. 

Yet, in his place alongside Anora with his hand up to throw a peace sign to the camera with an all too cheery disposition, stood Kenji Adams. 

“ Hungry?” Dallas’s voice seemingly gets through to him, but in a haze.

“ Hmm?” He froze, staring at the picture harder, blood beginning to heat underneath his skin. 

Dallas cocked her head to the side, “ Terry, I asked if you were hungry. Cause if you are I got some pot roast stew I’ve been cooking in a crock pot since yesterday on the counter that I’m about to pour over some leftover wild rice. Want some?”

“ What?” Terry shakes his head forcing his eyes to find her, “ One more time. I’m sorry.” 

Eyes taking a gander toward the ceiling Dallas repeated herself once more. “ Food. Terrance. In your mouth. Yes or no?” He took in her form, arms settled across her chest that was clothed by the large Tulane Alumna hoodie she now wore.

“ Uh yeah.” He answered, hand coming to the back of his neck, “I’ll have a bowl to be polite.” 

“ i’Ll hAVe a BoWL tO BE PoLITe.” She mocked, “ Bring your big hungry ass in here and quit being so nosy!” 

Sending the two of them into a short period of laughter and playfulness that lasted as Terry’s meal was served up in a large ceramic bowl while he incredulously watched her eat her share from a rather titchy looking prep container, before another small silence began to swell in the room. 

“ I wanna apologize to you about the other day.” His voice broke the sound barrier.

“ For what?” Dallas replied, stomach churning as she silently prayed that he wasn’t going to make mention of their ill fated mistake a couple days prior.

“ Dallas. C’mon now. Don’t do that.” Terry sighed, “ We both know what I’m talking about.” 

Carefully she set down her fork, taking a pause before she started, “ Look, I had already put it so far out of my mind, Terry. And I hadn’t really thought about it again.” The lie spilled so perfectly through her teeth, “ You don’t have to apologize…it takes two after all.” 

“ And besides, I don’t want to mess things up with what you and Nefari have going on. Or what I have going on with someone else.” At her allusion to her seeing someone, Terry fetl a small but notable pit fall in his stomach.

“ Well I have.” He answered honestly, blind courage consuming him “ A lot actually.” 

“ Really, if I’m being truthful I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.” 

“ Terry don’t—”

“ Really, Dallas.” He pauses, “ I’m serious.” 

She stops a second to look at what she believes may be sincerity swirling around in his eyes along with the green, blue, and specks of brown that she’d at one point been so familiar with. 

But she wouldn’t allow a reacquaintance to occur on her watch, so instead she focused her eyes on the kitchen stove clock and spoke, “ Well I don’t know what to tell you, Terry!” Dallas shrugged, “ Seriously. I mean emotions were high. That song was on. We were in a confined space together. It was late.” She rattled off the conditions of that night, “ It was really just a response to how we were feeling in the moment. We weren’t thinking right in the mom–

“ I was.” The vulnerability of his words passed through his lips with a bite, and just like that she slowly felt herself falling back onto his same hook. 

“ My head actually hasn't felt that clear in a minute.” He started, “ I haven’t felt the way I felt that night in a minute.” 

“ Not since Tulane..” 

At the mention of the night that Dallas had made him swear on the funeral home steps that’d he never again bring up, she felt a hand tighten around the spoon at his words, shattering the fuzzy feeling that had begun to creep into her body and instead was replaced with sheer, unadulterated, and repressed rage.

Her mouth setting in a hard line “ You are un-fucking belivable. You know that.”

Disconcerted by her sudden change in mood, Terry couldn’t help but feel a subtle horror creep up his spine as he hurried to try and ratify his unexpected misstep" Dallas–”

“ NO!” She put a hand, silver fork loudly clattering onto the countertop, “ No. You don’t get to say shit like that to me, Terry. You hear me!” 

“ You don’t get to do this again. You don’t get to come in here and say shit like that, an-and then run your cowardly ass back to her once you’ve gotten your ego boost or whatever sick ass thrill you get from doing this.” 

“ Dallas—

“ You don’t get to just waltz back into my life.” She stood up, “  A LIFE THAT I’VE SPENT FUCKING YEARS TRYING TO RE-BULID AFTER I WAS FORCED TO ERASE YOU FROM IT THE FIRST TIME, AFTER YOU WROTE YOURSELF INTO AND THEN OUT WITHIN A COUPLE HOURS.”

“ But that’s it, Terry. Chapter closed! I’m not doing this with you again! I’m not going there with you again!”

“ Dallas.” Terry's plea was grave, “ I understand that you’re upset. But, baby, listen to me. You know that when it comes to you and I it’s not– 

“ YOU AND I NOTHING!” She screamed, full on tears cascading down her face, “ There is no you and I, Terry!”

“There's me. There’s a you. And then there’s a you and her.” The each punctuated word spewed out like burning venom, “ There is no us. Not anymore.” 

Using a sleeve to wipe at her eyes, Dallas stood tall letting her anger shield her,“ And now that I think about it, she should probably be wondering where her fiance could be. And the last thing I need is anyone in this town seeing you leave from this house and thinking we’re foolin’ around.” 

“ You and that girl have done enough to fuck up my life as is, and the last piece of dignity I’d like to hold on to is to at least be able to show my face in public.” 

“ With that being said the harshest of the rain has slowed, so I think this would be a good time for you to go. Thanks for the ride here, but I’m not looking to get on another one with you, Terry. Especially when we both know where this is going.” 

“ I’m sorry for calling you, it was a mistake. And I promise you now, I won’t make it again.” 

“ So you need to get on your things and leave.” She begins casually picking up the pink scrub mommy at the kitchen sink while beginning to scrub at already clean dishes, “ Turn the bottom lock on the door before you leave and close it tight on your way out. Because it won’t be opening again tonight.” 

“ Or ever again for you, for that matter.” She threw over her shoulder, “ This is it. So from now on when you see me, let’s try and be strangers, yeah?” 

There he stood, Terrance Edward Richmond, a man known by many to never shy away from a fight, a challenge, or a contention no matter how large the opponent or corrupted the matter, found that he didn’t have any drive or energy to try and stand up for the one purpose he’d truly felt he had left on this earth. 

Instead he chose to abide by his wishes, gathering his things, and quietly exiting the home he’d never quite been a part of, and never would be. 

And when she heard the slight rattle of the wall ornament of the foyer that confirmed the door had been shut, the flood gates of all her emotions began to open as she couldn’t control the tears that rushed down her face while she thought of this final memory she’d have of her & him. 

End of 4.1 

———

Almeda De Heroux & Adam Szekács will return in…

acquired taste.