#swbffic

in too deep, can’t think about giving it up.

larry.

The pads of her feet were soft thumps against the floor. They, however, didn’t wake me. It was her exit from the bed ten minutes ago that had pulled me away from my less than blissful slumber.

The bed barely dipped under her weight but the duvet rustled and the sheets tugged. The disruptive behavior of the bedding was enough to make her pause and cautiously eye me.

I could feel her gaze. Heat fizzled over the surface of my skin under it but I wouldn’t dare open my eyes. Nowadays the only way I got to see a genuine Marlee was when she thought I wasn’t paying attention.

Our dreaded doctors appointment had been four days ago and Marlee had been on a roll, acting like nothing happened ever since then. I let her – because I didn’t know what else to do.

I wouldn’t force her into talking to me because I didn’t even know what to say. I wouldn’t force her into making a decision because I didn’t even know what I wanted. We were both – confused but I was the only one embracing my true emotions.

I’d been with Marlee for all of my adult life. I knew her. Her containing her feelings behind multiple layers was nothing new to me. However, this felt different. It felt urgent. It felt final. Now was not the time for her to be building walls and hiding her vulnerable nature.

In the past I’d resented her ability to shut me out and in turn chronically neglected her. Most recently, with the involuntary reset to our relationship. I’d been working on respecting her need for space but also making it very apparent that I was present. Now – now I didn’t know what to do.

I wanted to push, and plow through the layers she’d so carefully constructed but I knew that would only urge her to build up more walls – stronger ones. At the same time I wanted to support her and do whatever she needed me to do. And apparently what she needed from me right now was Denzel level acting skills that matched hers.

She needed me to pretend so that she could carry on with her fictitious shenanigans.

So I did. I pretended to sleep as she stared me down, making sure that her return to the bed hadn’t shaken me out of my slumber.

It took what seemed like a million seconds for her to look away from me and a million more for her to lay down.

She settled on the edge of the bed and when I slyly peeled my eyes open I found her back to me. An unimaginable coldness consumed me, snuggling against my every bone, and I wanted to do nothing more than crowd her body with mine but I couldn’t. If I did she’d step into character and go back to pretending that everything was alright.

It took three sniffles for me to realize she was crying.

I chewed my lip, wondering if I should go to her. I wanted to wrap her in my arms and squeeze all her worries away. I wanted to wipe away her tears and erase the trails they created with soft kisses. I wanted to lull lullabies in her ear that translated to promises – promises I knew I couldn’t fulfill.

But I didn’t.

Instead, I laid still and pretended to be sleep. I told myself there was no comfort I could bring. I told myself that she needed to let whatever she was feeling out. I told myself everything in an effort to not feel terrible about ‘ignoring’ my wife’s pain.

Eventually she cried herself to sleep, leaving me up. Her sniffles. though nonexistent now, echoed throughout the room. I felt like I was suffocating. The room was cool yet I felt hot despite only wearing briefs and not being under the covers.   Sweat quickly began to tattoo the surface of my skin and when it got to be too much I took cues from her and rushed to the bathroom to avoid waking her.

-

“Gooood morning,” Her being up before me was a surprise but her being in the kitchen, cooking, was even more surprising.

We’d both had rough nights but it didn’t show. I’d silently praised her acting skills last night but mine too were quite impressive. It was shameful.

We were doing exactly what we said we wouldn’t do when we decided that fighting for our marriage was our only option. We weren’t being honest with one another. We weren’t openly communicating but then again neither of us were prepared to have to communicate about a pregnancy that we hadn’t planned for.

“Morning,” I smirked, rounding the island that separated me from her. Dropping a kiss onto the back of her neck, I peered into the griddle. “What you cook?”

“Crepes.” She turned and grinned proudly, revealing a face dotted with white shit.

“You lie!”

“I did,” She shifted so that I could see her work. “Look.”

Before me were five perfectly crafted crepes. They were golden in color, light in texture and folded, concealing sweet surprises.

“They look good?” She quizzed, folding the last one and setting on it a plate before handing it to me.

“They so beautiful.”

“Forreal?!” She chirped and then kissed her teeth. “Don’t gas me!”

“I not! They look good.” I reached out poking the tip of her nose. “I’m so proud of you.”

Her smile was wide and genuine. It nearly made me forget that for days now she’d been giving Viola Davis a run for her money.

Marlee was so good at masking her emotions that sometimes it left me wondering if I’d imagined certain things.

“Come on. We gotta eat before they get cold.”  She led me over to our neglected dining table.

Years ago whenever I was home we always ate breakfast together at this very table. It had once been our thing but as time passed it faded into the background just like majority of our other good habits.

I wondered if she remembered and if so what memory had triggered this act. There had been so many. We shared a million laughs here. I revealed some of my biggest news. She laid out her goals. We argued here, sexed here, planned here…

“Why are you looking like that?” It was when she spoke that I realized that she was already seated, leaving me hovering awkwardly over the table.

“You remember when we get this table?” I quizzed as I sat.

She paused, bit into her crepe and moaned. “No.”

“Oh.”

“You gonna tell me?” She pressed, eyeing me from under the fan of her lashes. “Or are you still listening to the doctor’s orders?”

The mention of a doctor was an instant reminder that she was pregnant and refusing to talk about it at the moment.

“We just see somethings like this – in Italy but it’s so expensive and even more money to ship,” I trailed off, not caring much for the story but for the matter at hand – the one my wife wanted to ignore.

“And?” She pressed.

“We just get it.” I shrugged leaving out the part about Marlee shooting the owner’s daughter wedding for free in exchange for the table.

“That was uneventful.” She grinned, amused.

I opened my mouth to spit out an excuse or maybe the rest of the story but she beat me to the punch with her own set of words.

“Speaking of Europe,” Her eyes were bright as she spoke. “I was looking at some flights to Paris today and they’re soooo cheap.”

My mouth opened to ask why leaving the country was on her mind but I quickly shut it.

This was her thing, and Paris her oasis.

When things got heavy for her, France was where she sought solace. I never could quite understand it.

“Do you and Lau have anything major coming up?” She quizzed before forking food into her mouth.

I’d yet to touch my own food. I was far too distracted.

Her refusal to acknowledge the elephant in the room wasn’t new to me but it wasn’t any less annoying.

“Nope.” I tried to keep my tone light as not to give away the fact that I was annoyed.

Lately Lau and I had been in talks with our management about doing TV. Dance competition shows were on the rise again and since we hadn’t gotten as far as we wanted with our own show idea it seemed fitting to do someone else’s.

Exposure was important and our constant relevance would make securing our own dance competition show much easier.

I hadn’t told Marlee about it because things were still up in the air. We also had a lot of our own shit going on, even before we learned about her pregnancy.

We were rebuilding and very fragile – talking about a show that would require me to relocate to LA for a few months just didn’t seem all that important.

“Larry, you haven’t even touched your food!”

Smiling sheepishly, I grabbed my fork. “I listen to you, and get distracted.”

I was distracted but not by what she was saying. I was distracted by everything that she wasn’t saying.

“Just tell me what you think.” She waved my excuse off, motioning towards the plate she’d made me.

Saying nothing, I cut into the crêpe and stuffed a hefty amount in my mouth.

The flavors danced over my tongue as I chewed. I looked up finding her eyes wide-set and on me. I smiled despite my sour mood because it was impossible not to.

“Is good.” I chuckled, amused at how she was watching me. I knew she was anxious – she’d talked about making crepes for years.

“Really?!”

“Yeah,”

“How good?”

“I teach you good.” I stuffed more into my mouth. It really was good.

“Nigga please,” She cackled. “You taught me nothing. All these years – you barely let me watch you make them.”

“They taste like you know my recipe.” I watched her roll her eyes.

“They taste like you’re not the only one in the house who knows how to cook.”

“Since you say like that I hope now you cook more then.”

“I never said all that.” I chuckled but continued to eat in silence.

She had actually done really well. I would even argue that her flavor profile was a bit better than mine. But the good tasting food wasn’t enough to jerk me away from my thoughts.

I tried to imagine what life would be like if she said she didn’t want to go forward with the pregnancy. I attempted to mentally prepare myself because truthfully I felt like that was the road she was going to go down – especially now that she was caught up on her painful past.

It would hurt but I understood.

She didn’t want to suffer and I didn’t want her to. Though the doctor had said technology had advanced, I knew that Marlee’s past pregnancies, and the abortion, would put her at risk. I didn’t want any risks – we couldn’t afford them.

I needed her.

Marlee’s body couldn’t take another failed pregnancy but most importantly her psyche couldn’t take it. The physical effects would be detrimental but the psychological effects would be catastrophic.

I know she blamed herself, and she expected me to blame her too.

I didn’t.

“Why are you frowning?” She quizzed.

“How you think of LA?”

Confusion contorted her features. “It’s fine.”

“To live?”

Her brows scrunched. “Larry, what are you talking about?”

I frowned at my bad timing. This wasn’t the time but talking about the direction my career was going in was the only thing lofty enough to shadow my other thoughts.

“Is not in the rock yet but,”

“What?” Confusion sewed itself to her pretty features.

“How that saying is about set rocks?”

Her eyes narrowed then widened before laughter pulled her mouth open. “It’s not set in stone, nigga?”

“Yeah,” I flushed. “Shut up. That’s what I say.”

“Mmmhmm,” She hummed still smiling.

“Is not set in the stones yet but World of Dance do a dance competition show and me and Lau maybe do it.” When she was silent I went on. “It tape for two-three months… in LA. But it’s not in the st– we don’t know yet but I wanted to say to you. We just start talk about it.”

“When would it tape?”

“Less than two months.”

“You wanna do it?”

“Only if you come with me.” Our eyes caught and I was shocked to see the surprise in hers.

“You want me to come?” The question threw me even more than her expression.

Why was she shocked?

“Of course,” I deadpanned. “Why I not?”

She shrugged and then forked food into her mouth, stalling. I watched her chew, wearing a mask of patience. However when she went for another fork of food I huffed out, cutting my eyes at her.

“I’m hungry, Larry!” Her defenses went up.

“You stall.”

She opened her mouth to defend herself but she knew I was right.

“In the past – and don’t say that this isn’t about the past,” She warned. “You would go away for extended periods of time and I would stay home and I know I worked but there were times when my work wasn’t constant and I could have been with you but – the offer was never on the table.”

My silence prompted her to go on.

“I know that wasn’t an option for tours and such but there were times when I could’ve come – I wanted to but I don’t think you wanted me to. I don’t know.” She sighed, shoving more food into her mouth. “Maybe you needed a break or something. We weren’t all that good… I don’t know. I’m rambling – I’m just shocked that you want me to come with you.”

She was right. I hadn’t wanted her with me. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize, Larry. I’m just telling you whats on my mind.” She sighed. “We are supposed to be doing that, right?”

“We are.” I agreed, willing my face to remain neutral. “We supposed to talk for everything we feel – that’s what we say.”

“We did.” She nodded, glancing down at her now empty plate.

“You say everything to me?” I pressed, unable to help myself.

I wanted to know everything that was happening in that head of hers. I wanted to know how she truly felt about our current situation. I wanted to know what she wanted. I needed to know.

“I’ll gladly come to LA with you.” She smiled a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

I stayed behind in the kitchen to clean up the mess Marlee had created after turning our kitchen into a creperie. She was always messy in the kitchen, dirtying more dishes than necessary. I had a habit of cleaning as I cooked, making the aftermath minor. Marlee was the opposite.

It looks like a toddler got loose in here, I thought glancing around at the mess my wife had made. My thought made me pause. I relished on the fact that had our other pregnancies been successful we would indeed have two toddlers right now. I then silently acknowledged that Marlee was indeed pregnant now.

I dipped my hands into the hot, sudsy water I’d prepared, attempting to cleanse my brain of its current thoughts. I was bound to drive myself crazy if I kept this shit up.

I finished the kitchen faster than expected and headed to the bedroom to get dressed. We had an important appointment and I didn’t want to be late.

I expected Marlee to be dressed or halfway there since she’d left me in the kitchen to do just that several minutes prior. I was more than surprised when I heard the shower running.

I inwardly ranted about her ability to always make us late as I stripped in route to the shower. Steam engulfed the bathroom, leading me to question just how long she had been in the shower.

I approached the door and pulled it open, wordlessly reminding myself that getting distracted by her body was not an option. We had shit to do.

“I shower with you to save time.” I smirked and then forced my eyes up to her face.

My smirk instantly fell when I caught sight of her reddened, tears rimmed eyes. Reacting immediately she pushed her face into the spray of the water, disguising the fact that she’d been crying.

“Marlee?” I called, concerned – annoyed.

“You can have it, baby. I’m done anyways.” She forced a smile on her lips and moved past me for the door.

I didn’t miss the raspy quality of her voice or the way she dropped her eyes when mine continued to search her face.

She was out of the shower before I could press her, leaving me stewing in frustration as the syrupy scent of her body wash swirled around me.

I showered quickly, anxious to see her before she secured her facade on. Perhaps I was being a bit of a masochist for wanting to catch her in the act of her pain, or a sadist for not attempting to ease it.

It was torture for me and felt completely out of my control. It felt wrong to force my comforting gestures upon her especially when she was clearly going through great lengths to hide what she was really feeling from me. At the same time it felt wrong to pretend nothing was happening – as her husband I should have been acting as her anchor, her peace.

In some sick and twisted way I needed the confirmation that she was actually feeling – that she was truly affected by what was happening. Her outward displays of emotion were sort of comforting because I felt the same. I couldn’t even begin to imagine how I’d feel if I hadn’t witnessed her true emotion state spilling through the cracks.

I’d feel alone.

Did she feel alone, I wondered, pausing. She hadn’t caught me crying or witnessed me restlessly tossing and turning at night due to my less than savory thoughts. How did she know that emotionally we were on the same page? I mean, I hadn’t said anything because she was going through such great lengths to hide her pain.

I was left to wonder if she was hiding her pain because she wasn’t sure where I stood emotionally. I hoped not.

I would put an end to this today, I silently promised as I dressed, determined to take the wheel of what would eventually morph into a deadly crash.

The drive was silent and as comfortable as it could possibly be given the circumstances. We were both lost in our own thoughts. Mine were dark and cloudy and I’m sure hers were the same.

“Nervous?” She quizzed as we walked hand in hand towards the towering building in Midtown Manhattan.

“Not really.” I answered honestly. I felt many things and nervousness wasn’t one of them.

“You were so quiet on the way here?’ She pressed.

“I just think of a lot of things.”

“Like what?”

I smirked. “Why you nosey?”

“I just wanna know.” She shrugged smiling a small smile. “Whats on ya mind?”

“You,” Our eyes locked. “LA and everything with that – the show, an apartment, Paris–“ I shrugged, wanting to leave it there.

“You wanna go?” Her smile was wide – we were talking about her oasis.

“We can – you say is cheap, yes?”

“So cheap!”

“…Okay.”

I managed to tune her ramblings about Paris out as we made our way up the elevator to the 29th floor where our marriage counselor waited.

The room was bright and airy – white walls with white curtains and splashes of pastel colors here and there. It was calming and it evoked peace, which made all the sense in the world. Marriages often turned to war zones and this was were people came to fix them – peace was necessary. On the walls were minimalist artworks compromised of mere lines and a few certificates, speaking to the experience of the highly recommended doctor.

Introductions were brief – cheerful. Refreshments were offered. Words of encouragement were recited.

“Mr. Bourgeois, what are you feeling right now?”

I briefly wonder why she targeted me first. Was my depressive state apparent? Could she see the weight of my reality weighing me down? Was Marlee that much of a better actor than me?

“I feel like,” I paused glancing at my hands and then Marlee. “Confused, sad, frustrated… so many things happen in my mind right now. Is like – I don’t know.” I huffed, hating that I couldn’t tell the person who was here to help us exactly what I was feeling.

“Tell me what you’re frustrated about?”

I sighed, as my thoughts raced. I knew this was the time and the place but exposing Marlee, especially when I’d done nothing to remedy her woes felt wrong. Maybe she should have been frustrated with me.

“She won’t let me in,” I started, glancing at my wife who was now staring at me. “I want to help – and maybe I can or should have but she hide everything – from me.”

“Is there something specific you’re talking about?” Dr. Fagan quizzed, looking between Marlee and I before resting her gaze solely on me.

“She cry.” Out of my peripherals I saw Marlee shift, displaying her discomfort and shock. “In the middle of the night she cry when she think I’m sleep. She do again today after we eat breakfast.”

I looked over at her, frowning when I found that her eyes had widened..

“How does that make you feel?”

I shrugged, never removing my stare from Marlee. “Left out.”

“Lar–“ Marlee began in a whimper.

“I know I will never, ever understand what she go through because is not my body – I know this. She have emotional pain and physical pain,” I winced at thought. “I know I can not fix it – I can’t even fix myself but to me, for me is feel like maybe we get through it better if we talk about us feelings about the ba… this pregnancy.”

Marlee dropped her face into her palms and I hated the fact that it was my words that triggered her agony. I reached for her, placing a not so steady hand on her knee.

“Mrs. Bourgeois, do you want to discuss how your husband’s words made you feel?”

They’d made me feel like shit so I know they’d ripped her to shreds. I stooped low but my desperation made it feel necessary. Throwing her under the bus and plastering what she was trying to hide on a metaphorical billboard was necessary.

“I’m pregnant, and I don’t know if I want to be.” She breathed and though I wasn’t looking at her, I knew her face was coated with tears.

The room was quiet – too quiet. I could hear my heart drumming in my ears. The bass was stronger – harder than any beat I’d ever danced over.

Within five minutes of being here, our biggest issue was splattered across the room. Dr. Fagan had no prior knowledge of our past or even our present and looked mildly shocked by us divulging our issues so quickly. But we were desperate.

Desperate to fix us.

Desperate not to experience pain…

I waited for the counselor to speak, to counsel but she said nothing, prompting me to look at her.

Her stare was glued to Marlee which made me look. I winced when I found my wife shedding silent tears.

The tissue box was pushed gently across the table towards Marlee and I immediately grabbed it, plucking a few of the soft facial papers from the bunch.

“Chink, please stop cry,” I begged, softly gripping her chin.

My eyes sought her out but she wouldn’t look at me even as I dabbed the tissue delicately at her face.

“Please,” I pressed. “Je déteste quand tu pleures,” (I hate when you cry) I whispered.

“Mrs. Bourgeois, can you tell us a bit of what you’re feeling?” Dr. Fagan pressed gently.

“I— I don’t… know,” Her voice was clouded with her agony.

“What about Larry’s admission triggered you?” Same question, different words.

The mention of my name drew my wife’s tear stained gaze to mine. Tears nearly came to my own eyes. She looked pitiful and it was killing me.

It was because of me.

I briefly wondered how things would have gone had I not brought up the fact that Marlee was hiding her true feelings from me. Had I not forced her out of her emotional hiding. Would she have eventually come to me to have an open and honest conversation about our future? Or would she have sprang her final decision on me at our follow-up doctors appointment.

I didn’t know with her, and I was desperate to know. So – I acted, yanking her out of hiding. And now it was clear to me that though it was necessary, I wasn’t prepared for the fall out.

“I– I don’t want to disappoint him.” She cried in a voice that reeked of shame.

“Chin–“ I started only for Dr. Fagan to call out to my name softly, gesturing for me to remain silent.  

“Why do you feel you would disappoint him?”

Marlee’s face curled in despair at the question. “I know he wants children and I can’t give them to him.”

My eyes glazed. She sounded sure. Nothing the doctors had told her – us about new techniques and technologies resonated with her. The past weighed on her mind, overruling the optimism of the medical professionals.

“In the past,” I was surprised when she continued on. “We had issues carrying a pregnancy to term – there was never an issue with conceiving but–“ She paused, looking off into a vacant corner of the room. “I just couldn’t carry them… healthily, and we lost them.”

Silence consumed the room, sliding down the length of the walls. It was heavy – thick, making it hard to breathe.

Marlee’s words painted a gnarly picture. I saw us on the bed, me holding her, as contractions beckoned by medicine instead of nature yanked her body through the flames of hell the night before we lost our first son. I then remembered myself holding my son, Laurent, I heard his ragged breaths and saw his pale cheeks. I looked down at my hands almost swearing that I felt his sweet warmth going cold on the very tips of my fingers as I held him.

I shook my head and balled my fists, clearing my thoughts – or hoping to. And then Marlee spoke again.

“I terminated the third pregnancy.” My heart stuttered and eyes watered, prompting me to shut them.

We’d talked about this, I’d forgiven her but it stung. The what ifs would never leave the surface of my brain.

“And you know,” She chuckled dryly. “I’m sure that fucked my reproductive system up even more.” The guilt would never leave the core of her heart.

“I feel like a fucking walking cemetery.”

“Marlee,” I whispered her name because I didn’t have the strength to use my full baritone.

“I know you have hope,” Her eyes lazily drifted to mine. “I don’t.”

“The doctor say–“

“They said good things the last time too.” She interjected, reminding me that the past was fresh in her mind.

Her memory had been rebranded by the blazing steel of her past and the area was still consumed with blisters. I, on the other hand, had worked for years to forget – healing my scars.

“For Men’s Fashion Week – they want us?” Lau quizzed as though Karine, our manager, hadn’t just gave a thorough explanation.

“Yes. January 16th for Berlutti and January 17th for Jacquemus.”

“And Jordan – January 19th,” I beamed repeating the news I was most excited for.

For years I’d been obsessed with everything Michael Jordan and Jordan brand affiliated and now we would be working with them, and going to a party hosted by Mr. Jordan himself.

I couldn’t be happier.

“Oh yes!” Lau sang, equally as excited as me.

We’d signed the contracts weeks and ago but the awe still hadn’t left. I’d nearly passed out when Karine delivered the news but instead I’d used my last bit of strength to tug my phone from my pocket.

It was as my finger was hovering over the name that was first on my favorites list that I realized I couldn’t call it.

She would never answer for me.

“Also Dior sent over some stuff,” She glanced at a neat tower of boxes in the corner of the room. “And Larry, I need to speak with you.”

The cheer left her tone and her eyes offered no more brightness. I nodded and it was shaky. I was too consumed with trying to imagine what could possibly be wrong to present steady movements.

Last week I’d had a less than cordial encounter with a shitty judge at a Berlin battle – was it that? Or was it about that club in Turkey that kept trying to book us despite them having a very racist staff?

Lau, distracted by his phone, hadn’t left the room but he’d already checked out of the conversation.

Karine peered carefully at me from across the table before reaching for her prized Hermès bag and extracting a manila folder.

With a sigh she slid it across the table. “Came this morning.”

My eyes danced over her face, in an attempt to read her but I couldn’t – so I gave up and dropped my gaze down to the folder. Contracts often came in folders like this but what contract would lead to her solemn expression?

Annoyed with the hot curiosity seeping from my pores, I flipped the folder open and signed, finding the tiniest of black words. Without my glasses I was left to squint.

“What is this?” I murmured more to myself than the other parties in the room.

“What is it, bro?” Laurent decided to mentally join us again.

I ignored him as concentration narrowed my eyes further, causing strain that went right to my temples. I opened my mouth to complained about my lack of understanding when words I never wanted to see paired with a name that I’d cooed and sang and hissed and moaned for years became clear.

“Larry?” Lau pressed, standing from his seat and towering behind mine.

His vision was perfect unlike mine. It hadn’t taken him long to find the words that’d powered my heart down to nothingness is mere seconds.

“Petition for Divorce.” He read and my heart blackened, turning to dust in the cavity of my chest.

-

marlee.

“Marlee, what's wrong with you?” His voice was calm – too calm. “You hear me talk?”! He bellowed when I remained silent.

I didn't want to talk. I didn't even want to be in his presence. I wanted to go home, drink two bottles of wine and forget that this day – hell, this past year even happened.

“Marlee!” He yelled, fed up with being ignored.

“What, nigga?! I don't wanna talk to ya ass. I don't even wanna see ya fucking face..” I snapped, glaring at him through narrowed eyes.

“What you do is so stupid – I not even believe you.” He spoke, ignoring every thing I'd just said.

“Can you please not talk to me?” I hissed.

“I don't even know you anymore.” His tone and the shake of his head pissed me off more than the words he'd uttered.

He didn't have the right to be disappointed in me when he was my biggest disappointment. Everything he'd done to me this past year canceled out even the slightest bit of anger, or disappointment he could harbor towards me.

“Maybe because you spend all your time under another woman.” My words were fire and his flesh – a highly flammable material.

He scoffed. “You bring her up for what? Don't talk about her.”

“You so quick to defend her,” I shook my head in disgust. “And Erin. You fucked her too? That's what she said – that you tried to when you were at her place. I'm not even surprised. Y'all both trash.” My tone expressed that I didn't care but I did. I cared so damn much it hurt to breathe.

Erin saying that shit to me sent my world into a state of darkness and my fist right into her mouth. I'd wanted to send those words back down her lying ass esophagus to sizzle to nothingness in her digestive acids. I'd wanted those words to be the last she ever uttered.

“Now you quiet? You wanted to talk a few minutes ago! Well, let's fucking talk, Larry!”

“I not talk to you like this. You talk stupid for nothing.” He scoffed, gripping the wheel tighter than necessary. “And you look stupid too.” His eyes slit me down the middle.

I seethed as he eyed the cut on my lip, remembering the expensive ring that'd put it there. “You fight, get arrested and fuck you face up – for what?!”

I balled my fist up, needing to expel the anger I was feeling.

“I can't stand ya ass!” I fumed, glaring out of the window at the Brooklyn homes we passed. “I'on even wanna be with you no more.”

“What you said?” He barked though I was sure he'd heard the muffled declaration. “Say for me again.”

Knowing he hated to be ignored I did just that. I fiddled with my nails and silently willed the car to move faster. When my nails grew to be a bore I went back to looking out of the window.

DUMBO. Outside of TriBeCa we'd also looked here. The lofts had been beautiful and new but the lower Manhattan apartment we resided in now had won our hearts.

I scoffed, remembering Larry's statements about moving to Brooklyn when our family grew too large for our TriBeCa loft. That shit ain't ever happening, I thought not knowing which was more unlikely – me having kids or Larry and I having a future.

"Say it!" He bellowed.

His face was crimson, his veins were creating a vine like texture beneath his skin. His nostrils flared and his chest heaved as he watched me – glared at me.

"I don't want to be with you." Mt voice was flat but clear. Crystal.

In a milli-second he was in my space. His frame dwarfed mine even in a seated position. His heat worked to melt my flesh but instead my own heat counteracted it.

My heart stuttered forward as he lowered his face to mine. "That make two of us, ma belle."

"Get the fuck outta my face!" I shoved him away, pissed that he had the audacity to feel how I felt. “Drive this car or let me the fuck out!”

“Bitch,” Larry muttered under his breath, earning a sideways glance from me.

“He cut you off because you're driving like a old lady.”

He instantly cut his eyes at me and frowned even as his gaze was one of amusement. “You wanna drive?”

“Nah.”

“Then shut up.” His smirk added a playful energy to his words.

“Alrighty then, Mabel.” I hummed, casting him a final glance before looking out out the window.

“Who is that is?” His confusion pulled my lips into a smile. His terrible English boggled my mind.

“The old lady your driving reminds me of.”  He gasped and then reached for me running his hand over my hair.

“Stop, Larry!” I laughed, as he continued to threaten the sleekness of my ponytail. “You're fucking up my hair!”

It was when my hand met his twists and tugged that he stopped, shooting an alarmed look my way. “I drive! You try to kill us?!”

“Imma kick ya ass when we get out of this car.” I half threatened, smoothing my hair.

He smiled. “You crazy. I like that.”

The throb on the right side of my face was slowly extending upwards towards my head, triggering a nasty headache. The concept alone had me ready to whoop Erin's ass all over again. I was tired and achy but somehow I knew that if I saw her again I'd find the energy to stomp a mudhole in her face.

Having never been in a physical fight my strength surprised me. The fact that even after I was pulled off of Erin I still possessed enough anger to fight ten men too surprised me.

Shock consumed me when after seeing her swollen and bloodied face I felt nothing. I'd expected remorse but all I felt was satisfaction, and rage.

I huffed aloud thinking about it.

“Are you dumb?! Why would you take this way?! It's dumb traffic because of construction.” I hissed as red-hued glow from brake lights clouded my vision.

“If you wasn't so dumb and fight people this traffic would not be a big problem for you.” He shot back, refusing to spare me a glance.

Disgust curled his lips downward and he gripped the wheel tighter as though the sound of my voice alone triggered his anger.

“Fuck you doing all that for?” I snapped, unable to fathom how he could feel a way towards me.

Instead of a response I received muddled french and flared nostrils. And everything I was barely fighting to contain blew the fuck up.

“I didn't fucking ask you to come get me so you can lose the attitude!” He said nothing so I went on. “You wanna sit over there huffing and puffing like I did something to your stupid ass. Fucking loser ass nigga.”

The traffic seemed to thicken further annoying me. All I saw was the red of brake lights and I felt the exact same way. I was seething, and I couldn't quite put my finger on what bothered me the most – Erin or Larry.

“You know, it's crazy that this whole time Erin disliked you. She hated your ass before she even met you – I wanted her to like you so bad, to see what I saw. But now that I think about it her 'not liking' you was probably a facade to confuse me because she more than liked you. Y'all probably been fucking for yearssss.” I laughed manically even as what was left of my heart shattered at the thought.

I glanced at Larry, catching the tick of his jaw and whitening of his knuckles as he gripped the leather bound wheel.

“Who was better? Luzy or Erin?” The question dismantled me and sent Larry's foot heavily onto the brake. My body rocked forward but I recovered quickly.

“Stop talking.” He warned, his voice tight and gritty.

“If I had to guess, I'd say Erin – she's Jamaican and all. Bitch always talking about pelting waist and whining and shit.” I laughed softly – coldly. “Then again the white bitch probably did everything you wanted her to. I bet she sucks a mean dick – I hear they good at that.” My voice cracked and to mask it I chuckled. “They must've both had some bomb ass pussy. Like, out of this world because why else would you throw our shit away.”

“Marlee – please, just stop talking.” His voice was a muted rasp. It crackled like wood in a fiery fire.

“You was so busy fucking with them you dried out.” I raved. “No baby juice left for Marlee!”

“Shut the fuck up!!!” He roared, finally looking at me with venomous eyes.

His glare sizzled my flesh, leaving nothing but bone and connective tissue.

“Fuck you! Don't tell me to shut up! Pussy ass can't take the truth.” I ranted, scrambling internally as I tried to reel myself back in.

I was always so careful with words. I knew and respected their power. I was the silent one during arguments – I never said too much out of fear that I would say the wrong thing.

Words packed so much force. A few recklessly placed together syllables could sever siblingships, friendships, marriages... It was so easy to spit them out and impossible to take the back. Once they left the tongue they couldn't be chewed and distorted. Once they left the mouth, they grew legs and skittered towards the brain of whomever was around to hear them where they lived on forever.

I never wanted my poor choice of words to be the spices that marinated Larry's brain. Most times when we fought I walked away from it, giving myself the time and space  to pull my thoughts together. And I didn't speak to him until my words were prim, proper and perfect. I didn't speak to him until I'd argued with him in my head, saying everything I thought I wanted to say. It took me mentally saying the wrong things to figure out what the right things were. That method had worked for as long as we'd been an us but now–

All the wrong things were at the forefront of my brain and on the tip of my tongue. The more I tired to care and reel myself in the more my tongue continued to lash.

I'd always worked to protect Larry's emotions. I knew his vulnerabilities and triggers, usually avoiding them with great caution and care. Now I was doing the opposite, and frankly it scared me.

Why didn't I care?

Why was it so easy to stop caring?

What did this mean for us?

I knew the answers to those questions yet and still I asked them, hoping to be pacified by at least a small part of my brain.

“Marlee, you don't know what is the truth so stop talking.”

He was too calm – too careless. He was supposed to react, to be passionate, to fight for me – and he didn't.

“I wish I never married you.” I seethed, seeing fifty shades of red.

“I wish I never meet you!” He bit back, sinking his teeth into my jugular.

He gave me the fire I so desired and it burned me to a crisp, leaving nothing but resentment.

“I hate you.” My voice was quite – so quiet I hadn't realized I'd spoken until I closed my mouth.

Internally, I battled. Half of me hoped he'd heard me loud and clear while the other half wanted him to never hear those words – from me.

But when his hands dropped limply from the wheel and his bleak eyes centered on me I knew he had. My words had hit him like a missile, destroying him.

He didn't blink or move – he stared, dragging my soul from my trembling body. His desolate glare and lifeless body consumed my lifeforce, making me feel nothing but regret. I hadn't exactly meant it but I wanted him to feel the pain that I felt. Instead, I felt more anguish than I'd ever experienced in my life as a result of hurting him.

My ability to feel remorse for hurting him when he never seemed to feel any when he hurt me injected me with a sensation of rage I'd never experienced before. Fury laced my tongue with ammo and I fought with everything I had to swallow it – even if the poison killed me. But I couldn't.

The sounds of honking horns should've acted as a warning. The fact that the red of brake lights no longer clouded vision should have acted to clear the toxic haze consuming my brain. My love for Larry and the vows that I'd taken should've prohibited such thought to turn to words...

“Maybe I shouldn't've gotten that abortion so I could see the look on you face when the baby came out looking exactly like Pierre–“ His fingers were around my throat before the statement could come to completion.

I gasped out as he slammed my upper body against the passenger side door. His fingers pressed into the flesh of my neck as my hands flailed at his forearms in search of release. My closed fist connecting forcefully with his left eye was the root of my freedom.

I gasped glaring at him before swinging at him again.

“You putting your hands on me now?” My voice cracked as my trembling hands went to my neck, feeling for tenderness that would confirm that my husband had really violated me.

“You know what,” I inhaled a large, ragged breath, trying to replenish my lungs. “This is over. We're over.”

My words meshed with my actions as I removed the ring that not only connected me to my husband but to my mother, tossing it at him. Next was my seat belt and then the door.

The horns that had been muffled by the interior of the car were now loud and clear and it took a mere second for me to realize that they were all aimed at Larry as the car had been stagnant for a while.

“I'm done with you.” I spared him one last glare, hoping it was the last I saw of him.

“I remember this place.” I grinned as we were led by the hostess to plush, neutral toned booth.

“What you remembered?” Larry asked as the hostess whirled around, leaving us with menus that were as posh as the rest of the décor.

“We came here after I found out I was pregnant – the second time.” I spoke, making sure to keep my voice leveled. I wanted to exude ease and confidence but when Larry's eyes softened with caution I realized I'd failed. “I also remember that the orange juice is $9 here...” I rambled on.

“Is so good though.” He smiled, silently promising not to delve into what I'd just spoken of. I was grateful.

“Meh.” I shrugged. “It's aightttt.”

“Marlee, last time we come you ask for a to-go cup and get mad when they say no.” He chuckled.

“That's cause it's $9!”

“Say whatever – I know the truth. I remember.” He teased, tapping his temple.

I waved him off and raised my menu, visually diving in. Though I remembered coming here I didn't remember what I liked from the menu, minus the decadent ass orange juice.

I scoffed at the prices even as my interest peaked at the descriptions. I must've really liked it here if Larry brought me back, I reasoned.

Tired of browsing the hefty selection, I lowered my menu only to find his gaze on me. He smiled and I blushed.

“You like the french toast with the cheesecake and ice cream stuff.” He told me before I could ask.

Using his description, that I was sure was wrong, I glanced down at my menu. “Donut Ever Go There French Toast?”

“Yeah.”

“You sure I don't like the crepes?”

“Yeah, I sure.” He smiled – arrogantly. “You only eat mine.”

“And maman's”

“Mine better. You say this to me but she never know.” He insisted.

I rose a brow. “Are you lying to me because I don't know better?”

“Never.”

“Swear it.”

“I swear to everything.” And to add validity to his words he signed a cross, starting at his forehead and then going down to his chest.

The waitress appeared before he could make it to his left shoulder. Because he was dramatic he completed his cross, not acknowledging her until his hand dropped from his right shoulder.

He placed our orders with a smile and after confirming the weirded out waitress hurriedly made her exit leaving the both of us cackling.

“Heeeey, Mar–“

“Where Erin?”

“She in the office,” He waved his marcel towards the curtained french door. “Damn girl, whats wrong with yo ass?”

Though I adored Ryan, I couldn't be bothered with him or anyone else in this salon today.

With quick, determined steps I headed for the office Erin called her own only to come to a slow stop when the door opened and she stepped out.

“Aight, Dawn you can come from under the dryer now.”

As Dawn muttered her complaints about her the dryer and being under there for too long Erin's eyes found mine. With a solemn expression she knowingly turned back around and went into the office with me following behind her.

I watched silently as she shut the door, leaving Dawn's protests and the chatter of the salon to be muffled.

“Erin,” I started, praying for the ability to stay calm. I needed to stay calm.

“Look, let's not do all the back and forth shit. You did ya nigga dirty and he brought his annoying ass around pressing me so I told him the truth. I ain't mean to but the shit slipped.” She shrugged.

I nearly choked on my own fury. “Slipped?”

Shrug number 2.

“Bitch, are you dumb?!” I nearly laughed. She couldn't be serious.

“No bitch, you're dumb!” She retorted, casually grabbing her water bottle off of her desk and taking a sip.

“Bitch, been feeling sorry for herself for 3 years and ain't done shit about it. All you do is cry about Larry's bum ass and forgive his bullshit. He cheated on you with a whole notha white bitch and ya dumb ass stayed. Fucking bozo.”

She spoke as though she were thinking aloud yet every single word was a dagger aimed at the center of my soul.

My fist clenched and nostrils flared and brows knitted.

This is your best friend, I reminded myself, she's merely talking out the side of her neck. Yet, even as I mentally reasoned with myself I found the distance between up closing, and it was my feet that were bridging the gap.

“Nigga dick is bomb though...” She chuckled, taking another sip of water.

My world froze and I replayed her words in my head, wondering if I'd missed the 'must be' part.

I hadn't.

“Fuck you just say?” I was I front of her.

“Nigga was whining, asking me if I was sure and shit. All that came to a halt when I sat on his dick.”

Her wail as my fist plowed into her mouth was music to my ears. A symphony.

“I feel funny.” I declared as Larry started the car.

“Is maybe because you just eat ice cream and cheesecake for breakfast.” Concern lined his eyes even as he teased.

“Shut up, “ I waved him off, buckling my seat belt. “It's not that – it's just,”

“Whats wrong?”

“You don't feel nervous about this – not even a little?”

“Not really.” He tilted his head. “Why you do?”

“The last time we tried marriage counseling it didn't go too well.” I shrugged feigning casualness.

“I not want to go back then – if I can be honest.” His voice was light as he spoke. “I think it's stupid then and in my head I wasn't mature for that.”

“And now you are?” I asked despite the fact that it had been his suggestion.

“Yes.”

I shrugged and shook my head. “I don't know why I'm nervous – I just feel... funny.”

“I not know either. This not even real appointment.”

“Maybe it's the fact that we have to go in to get a fucking referral that's making me nervous cause that's weird. Ain't that weird?”

“I not really think much of it.”

“I did. Like, why couldn't she just fax over the name and number of the best suited doctor?” I pressed, annoyed that I had nothing solid to blame my finicky nerves on.

“Marlee,” He rubbed at my thigh. “Everything will be good. We good.”

I wanted to believe him but the knots in my stomach wouldn't allow me to.

The car ride was silent as I found myself nose deep in my thoughts. Between the hard work Larry and I had ahead of us and my hectic recollections I was a mental mess. Partnering that with the uncertainty I felt speaking to counselor about our problems led to me being in shambles.

I'd been more than shocked when Larry suggested we go this route again and even more shocked when I instantly agreed. Our last bout with a doctor trained to mend marriages had been a nightmare. The appointments Larry failed to show up to were some of the first indications the he didn't give a fuck and was checking out of our marriage. That component alone made marriage counseling a trigger for my angst.

The idea of lifting rugs and yanking off old bandages made me nervous as well. The doctor would delve and we'd have to divulge to eventually heal. But healing was hard. It literally took stripping yourself down to your very core, exposing everything, to reach a certain level of vulnerability in which healing began to occur.

It was easier to give up than to fight.

And we had both done that only to find that the easy route wasn't rewarding at all. It was actually paved misery.

I sighed, and for the millionth time today my fingertip grazed the scar Erin had left me with. Frowning, I rolled my eyes. That bitch.

Remembering how brazen she had been had me ready to lay hands on her all over again. Sure, I was missing tons of puzzle pieces needed to form the complete image of our relationship but turning on me the way she did just didn't make sense. She'd been proud to say the things she'd said. It was as though she'd recited the lies and wanted to see me break.

When had our friendship gone to shit on her end? She was argumentative but she'd always been loyal and mostly supportive of me.

Her telling Larry about the abortion I'd had was a total shocker, and I could remember thinking she'd done it in an effort to get him away from me since that's what she'd always wanted. But when she started running her mouth about fucking him and how good the sex was I knew that her actions, as shitty as they were, weren't designed to emancipate me from Larry like I'd thought. Her actions, and words, had been self-involved and malicious.

I didn't regret fighting, destroying her salon or smudging my record. What I did regret was the warmth and love I'd greeted her with at the super market a few months ago.

That bitch had stood in my face, exchanged numbers with me and made plans to dine all while knowing what she did. She'd violated me for the second time and deep down I wanted to return the favor.

I knew the anger that I harbored for her would get me nowhere but being taken advantage of when you're damn near powerless is a major blow to the spirit. I wouldn't let it hinder me though – I had to move forward. Resentment was pointless and poisonous.

The car coming to a permanent stop was the remedy needed to dead my thoughts.

“Ready?” I looked over finding his eyes on me.

“Damn,” Erin huffed from across the table, pulling me away from the task of wrestling the tail off of my shrimp.

“I hate when restaurants don't cut off the fucking tail. It's not edible!” I whined, annoyed that there was a hindrance between my food meeting my mouth.

“Bitch, just bite the tail off.”

“Nah, cause then I would have to spit it out and like wipe my mouth and shit.”

She waved me off, glancing at the table to the left of us with a scowl..

“ The hell is wrong with you?” I quizzed, finally forking my shrimp into my mouth where it should've been seconds ago.

“This fucking baby won't stop crying.” She complained.

“It's a baby – they cry.” I deadpanned.

The baby had been crying for a while but it hadn't bothered me any.

“True, which is why they should have stayed their asses at home instead of ruining everyone else's peace with the screams of that thing.”

“Thing?” I chuckled, rubbing my protruding belly. “Hate to see what you're gonna call yours.”

She scoffed. “I'm not have fucking kids. They're terrible.”

“Girl, please.”

“I forreal.” I smiled at her slightly broken English that always exposed the roots she tried so hard to hide.

“Well, you know your role of a godmother is to take on all motherly responsibilities of my baby if something is to ever happen to me, or Larry.” Her eyes bulged and I laughed.

“Well, I'm gonna have to turn down the position, sis. Glad I didn't sign shit!”

“Bitch,” I laughed. “You're gonna love my baby.”

“Not if it look like it's long faced ass daddy.” She murmured, plucking a shrimp off my plate.

“My man is fine and jealousy will kill you.” I supplied as she smirked at me. “And if you bring your ass over here to my plate again, I'll kill you.”

“Pregnant?”

“How?” Larry and I quizzed simultaneously.

“Well,” The doctor started with a wry expression. “No method of contraception is completely 100%. The Natazia pill is 91% effective when taken as directed – and that's a good number but it leaves room, though small, for conceiving a child.”

“I,” My sigh was inward and used to calm my nerves. “When I left to go to Paris I didn't take my birth control. I haven't taken it since then.” The admission depleted me and I bowed forward in my seat.

Larry's hand met my back just as mine covered my face.

“What the fuck is wrong with me?” I groaned out, frustrated. “I have to be the most fertile woman on the planet and I can't have fucking kids. What a fucking curse!” I cried, tugging my hoodie over my face in an effort to hide my tears.

“How you know this?” Larry asked the doctor, rubbing my back with more fervor. It was to calm him – not me.

“Well, when Marlee came in last week for her annual exam we did a normal urine sample just for testing as a part of the exam. Because there was no concern of pregnancy we didn't expedite the sample testing. When we did run it and get the results a few days after your visit they came back positive – for pregnancy.”

When neither of us said anything she went on. “I know given your history and the fact that you were just prescribe a new birth control that this may not be the best news. I'm sure you guys need time to grasp this information and make a decision about this pregnancy.” Her voice was soft, cautious. “What I can say is that medicine has advanced immensely in the past few years – even the past few months. I'd love to tell you about it when you're ready just so your options don't seem so black and white.”

“What option?” Larry all but chirped.

“Lar,” I croaked, feeling his hopes float to the heavens.

His eyes dropped down to mine and when they connected his shoulders dropped. I didn't want him to get too excited about anything any doctor could tell him about new methods. We'd been there and done that. We'd been told that our baby was healthy and our pregnancy was normal. We been told of methods and options and new medicine and fucking advancement. Yet we still didn't have a child. I refused to believe that this time would be any different.

I refused to fail him again. I couldn't take it.

We wouldn't survive it.

"I can't believe we're here." I took in the endless blue before turning to face Larry, my husband. "I can't believe we're married."

His smile was gentle and his eyes warm. "I can."

"Yeah?" My grin stretched proudly across my face.

"Yeah." He approached me, leaving my body meshed between him and the balcony railing. "I plan this from the first day I know you."

"Nigga, please." I cackled, waving him off.

"I do. When you go crazy on my brother for try to take your camera I know." His arms threaded around my waist.

"You knew what?"

"That I marry you, and love you every day for the rest of my life."

"I'm so lucky," I breathed, burrowing my face in his neck just to make sure that this was real, that we were here and in love and married. "You're so right – it scares me."

His brows met. "Why?"

"All I really know is wrong." I admitted, playing with a lone twist that refused to stay with the rest.

"Now we change that." He pressed his lips to mine. "We ride this til the wheels fall off and when they do we fly." 

-

marlee.

"Why you not pick up? I worry for you!"

"I'm sorry, Lau." I spoke through a yawn. "I've been in and out of sleep."

"Where you is?"

His question made me pause. My eyes glazed over the span of the hotel suite I'd been calling home for nearly a week now.

"Bob!" He pressed.

"I'm not home." I told him, chewing my lip.

"I know that! I go there." His declaration shocked me. Last I'd checked he was in LA. "Where you is?"

"I don't wanna tell you," I muttered, scratching my scalp.

To say I'd let myself go would be a complete understatement. I hadn't put a comb to my head in days. My skin was dry and lacked its normal glow. The only thing I bothered to do was shower and to be honest I didn't want to do that. It was the sporadic spotting due to the abortion the forced me to clean myself.

"Why not?!"

"Because,” I paused with an inward sigh. “You're gonna tell your brother and I don't want to see him."

He blew out a sigh. "I not tell him anything!"

"You tell him everything." I stressed, rolling my eyes despite the fact that he couldn't see me.

"If you say dong tell him I won't."

"Whatever, Lau."

"Bob." He sighed. "I just need to see you okay."

"I'm fine."

"Marlee Estelle Bourgeois." I cringed at the name. At this point I'd go back to Nichols with no complaints.

I hesitated but caved, knowing he wouldn't let up. "If I tell you will you bring me food?"

"I bring whatever you need."

And he did.

Less than an hour later I was rummaging curiously through the bag he'd brought. Amongst all the items was the most important – sanitary napkins.

"I'm surprised you got the right ones. Larry always fucks up." His name on my tongue annoyed me.

I talked about him so much but it was difficult not to. So many areas of my life revolved around him. It was maddening.

"I better." Laurent smirked.

“True.” I mumbled, cracking open the Honeybun I'd requested. “Can you heat this for like, 15 seconds?”

Laurent wordlessly complied and when the sweet treat was to my liking he handed it back to me. I ate in silence mentally preparing myself for any questions my beloved brother would ask. He was too quiet and he was never quiet so that only meant that he had tons to say.

To my dismay, his silence lasted through my Honeybun and half my bag of Doritos. It was torturous. I wanted so badly to know what was going on in that head of his. My paranoia made me itch with a fear that Lau knew why I was here and what I'd done.

Could he smell the stench left from the sterile clinic in my pores? Did my body look different? Was I bathed in guilt? Apathy?

Not knowing where his head was killed me. His silence was torture. And the void it left needed to be filled.

“I want a divorce.” My lungs nearly popped from the pressure of saying the words aloud as I had never done so.

The declaration wasn't refreshing or liberating. I didn't feel better but worse. My biggest fear would play out because words were powerful. I'd put it out into the universe after fiddling with the thought for months and eventually it would materialize.

“Bob,” Lau started with a pained expression.

Seconds prior I'd craved his voice, or any sound from him, but now I didn't want to hear it. I knew his lips would spew words designed to alter my decision, or defend his brother.

“I'm getting a divorce.” I reiterated, refusing to let him say whatever he wanted to say.

My voice was stronger, full of purpose and my eyes full of tears.

"What are you doing?" He whirled around, seemingly surprised by my presence.

"I look through pictures." His eyes were warm, inviting and hopeful.

A few days had passed since my doctors appointment and I'd mostly avoided him. I was surprised yet appreciative that he let me. I needed the time. My thoughts were mostly redundant and my memories stagnant. It wasn't necessarily that I didn't know what I wanted it was more so the fact that I didn't know what to say to him.

My memories told the tale of a woman who evaded serious conversations – much like I was doing now. When Larry did his dirty work I solely acted on how I felt, I never said anything because I felt like he should've known. He out of all people was the closest to me. He was the sole person who had access to all parts of me. He was most in tune with my wants, my needs, the things that made me happy and the things that made me sad. He was most in tune with my emotions and with that fact came a responsibility. I expected him to know better and do better. And he didn't.

His lack of compassion led to my apathy. I kicked him out, then fled when I knew he would return, then aborted the child we'd conceived and finally filed for divorce – all without cluing him in because he of all people should have know why.

With the exception of the pregnancy I felt that explaining to him why my acts were a result of his actions was fruitless. He was an adult with common sense – he knew better. But now as I found myself repeating the same shit I wondered if I should take a different course of action. I was experiencing those same emotions that I'm sure I harbored in the past when we were actually falling apart but I didn't know how to express them. I didn't know what to say to him.

Was yelling at the top of my lungs as I stood before him the best tactic or was sitting and calm;y explaining a better route?

I was clueless, and as I watched him watch me I felt all the words I'd wanted to say retracing their steps away from the tip of my tongue. It took mere seconds for them to become a crowded mess in my brain again.

“Come see.”

I accepted the invitation, taking a seat opposite him on the coach. Being near him is the first step, I told myself hoping the words would eventually follow if I didn't try and force them.

The relief that flashed in his eyes nearly made me weep.

Despite everything he wanted me. Was this how I'd been with him in the past? Had I remained hopeful even as he pushed me away?

"I find this disk I forget all about." He explained gesturing towards the TV even as he looked at me.

My brows rose. "Disk?"

"You get scare of losing pictures or maybe damage them so you take to get backed up on DVD."

"Oooh." I nodded my understanding.

My eyes moved to the screen just in time to catch a picture of a younger Larry.

"You were so skinny.” I chuckled.

“You remember take these?” He quizzed and I narrowed my eyes on the cool toned photo of the twins.

“No.” I tilted my head as though it would jog my memory. “It's terrible.”

The picture was easily ten years old, and everything about it technically made me cringe. Then again, I was younger with none of the experience and expertise I had now. Mentally letting myself off of the hook, I peered at my husband and his twin, taking in the many ways they'd physically changed.

“Lau get so mad because he say you make me look better.” He cackled when the next picture came up.

“I probably did just to spite him.” I shrugged, as my gaze roamed over Larry's tattoo-less frame. “He was annoying as fuck back then.”

“I can't wait to tell him that!” He laughed. “Every time he see this picture my brother get mad and say the same thing. And you always deny but now you not remember you say the truth.”

His laughter brightened the room and I rolled my eyes with faux annoyance. “You bet not say shit to him.”

“He would get so mad! I swear!” He laughter hardened at the thought of agitating his twin.

Kissing my teeth, I playfully cut my eyes at him. “Go to the next picture.”

“Who is that?” I tilted my head, peering at me and a blonde haired girl that hadn't been in any of my memories.

Larry chuckled. “One of Lau's exes.”

The next picture was of me and another unfamiliar face. “Another ex?”

“Yeah.”

“What the fuck?” I shook my head with confusion. “Am I the president of Laurent's harem? Did I even like them?”

“I think you do,” He shrugged. “They both nice but not really talk to you after my twin be stupid.”

I made a sound in my throat but said nothing as Larry clicked forward to the next picture.

My breathing completely stopped when a younger me sans clothes and common sense consumed the screen. My eyes widened to double their size as I took in my too thin eyes brows, red tinged hair and thinner frame.

“Larry, what the fuck?!” His laughter filled the room yet again only this time I didn't find anything funny. I was confused. “Why the hell am I naked?!”

“I love this picture.” He sang as his eyes roam across the screen. “You don't remember this?”

“No!”

He chuckled. “You do this for my birthday.” His hand moved to his chin, rubbing the sparse hairs there as his eyes stared unmovingly at the screen. “This my favorite picture.”

“Who even took this? What was I even doing?” I was in utter disbelief.

This move totally sounded like something I would do for him but it was weird seeing it. Seeing me – my younger self, before marriage and failed pregnancies and stress from life posing candidly for my man, my love.

“You take. With time thing.” He explained, still looking at the screen.

“I don't remember my hair ever being red.” I noted, swallowing my initial shock.

“You change it fast.” My response took form as a distant sound in the back of my throat. “You send nudes always. I don't know why you so shocked.”

“This ain't just a nude.” I chuckled. “It was planned. This looks good.”

“Believe me,” He eyed me with a mischievous smirk. “They all look good.”

“I guess it's just weird seeing me at the stage of my life. I know this is when were happy.” My words were enough to disintegrate his smile.

“We go through a lot but I think we mostly always happy. I want you to know that.” His voice had taken on a solemn quality.

“I do.” I nodded. “But you know, the bad has a way of smudging out the good.”

“If you let it.” He muttered, switching to another picture.

“Wow.” I tooked in the aged photo. “I don't remember my granny much but I dreamed about her the other night.”

“What happen?”

“Uh – I was grown and she kept asking me about the baby.”

“Oh.” His voice and eyes dimmed.

“It kinda fucked with me but that's all my brain seems to do anyway.” I shrugged.

“You talk about her a lot – you used to.” Larry supplied the information with ease. “But she die when you young – 12 years old.”

“I loved her.” I knew that to be a fact.

I couldn't really remember or voice or envision her face without pictures but I knew she meant a lot to me. She was a safe haven, a major pillar in my life. She was my peace.

Larry slowly clicked to the next picture which dragged me further into my emotions. It was my mom and I. Sensing that he would skip it for the sake of my mental state, I grabbed the remote.

“I um –“ I cleared my throat as my eyes roamed the picture. “It was her birthday the other day.”

His expression told me he knew. “Why you not say anything?”

“Why didn't you?” I shot back and he shrugged. I didn't need his verbal answer because I already knew it. He didn't want to make me sadder than I already was.

“With losing my memory I kinda feel like I'm living some sort of weird ass second life. It's hard to explain but –“ I paused, peering at my mom. “It feels like my mom and my granny are only people that I've heard really detailed stories about. Like, you know how someone tells you about a person and you start to feel like you know them?”

He nodded as his eyes moved cautiously over my face. I could sense that he was waiting, and preparing himself, for me to crack. I wouldn't.

“That's how I feel. It's fucked up because I know my mom and granny – knew them. But it feels like I didn't. It feels like in this life,” I quoted with my fingers. “I'm super disconnected from them. My memories of them are sparse and far apart. It's weird.” I sighed, moving to the next picture before eyes that used to calm me like no other deduced me to tears.

“Chink,” Larry called only to be ignored.

“This bitch.” I hissed, eyeing a picture of Erin and I on somebody's beach.

“You know, we can not look at this right now.” Larry went for the remote but I quickly dodged him, switching to the next picture. “Come walk Millie with me and then we eat.”

“I'm fine, Larry.” He sighed but didn't protest as another picture of Erin and I came up.

“You remember a lot for her?”

“Hmmm.” I hummed. “I do but I swear in every memory me and her are fucking arguing.”

His brows rose. “Really?”

“Yeah, makes me wonder how we were ever even friends.”

“Maybe is just what you remember because you get along good with her. I mean, you fight sometimes like me and Lau but who don't.”

His words were hard to process and even harder to believe. My memories had shaped Erin to be more of a frenemy than anything.

“Well,” I sighed as another picture of my mom and I came up. I could tell it was around the time she started getting sicker. “She wasn't such a good friend after all was she?”

Larry knew exactly what I was talking about and I could tell from the look in his eyes that he didn't want to linger on the subject. He was smart.

“Where were we?” I paused on a picture of me in the pool.

He chuckled. “How you know I take this?”

“Wild guess.” I rolled my eyes.

“Tulum.”

“Old pictures of you make so happy.” I murmured, peering at a younger photo of him that I'd probably taken.

“Why?”

“I don't know.” I whispered the lie.

Old photos of Larry represented a love that was true – one without betrayal and lies and secrets. Old photos of him represented a time where he saw only me. A time where he considered himself to be deserving of my love and saw me as being equally as worthy of his – all of it. In the past I had no doubts or worries or fears – I had hope for a forever and Larry, then, embodied that. He'd been my future, my salvation – my remedy.

Silence drifted into the room and I did nothing to push it away. I used the silence to my advantage, focusing solely on bits and pieces of my past.

Jumbled up on this lone photo disk was everything. Things I'd forgotten, things I remembered. There were pictures of me as a lass, photos with family members I'd some how forgotten, pictures of the twins and all their awkwardness. The disk that I'd had made due to my paranoia was now acting as my saving grace.

It was proof that I had indeed lived a full life where I'd been happy and whole.

“What do you want to eat?” I quizzed, knowing I needed to talk to him. I'd look at pictures all day to avoid the task and I knew doing so was bad for both of us.

“It's a Brazillian spot down the street, or Mr. Chow.” I shook my head, knowing I didn't wanna go to Mr. Chow. That place put my mind too close to Pierre.

“I kinda want breakfast.”

“Cafeteria?”

“Yeah,” I muttered still halfheartedly clicking through the pictures.

“Okay, I walk Millie first then we–“ My gasp cut him off.

“Chink!” He called, seeing what I saw.

Acting fast, he went for the remote but it was too late. My eyes burned from familiarity, my heart ached from remembrance.

I dropped my face into my hands, wanting to unsee my bronzed skin, untamed hair and vivid green bikini because with those components came a protruding belly that housed a baby that hadn't made it. A precious baby boy named Laurent. An angel Larry had the chance to see and hold before he passed on.

My baby was only a part of my imagination. Up until this moment I'd never seen a picture of me pregnant. I had no stretch marks or maternity clothes. I had nothing but distant memories and the words of Larry.

“Fuck,” I whimpered, feeling Larry's arms along with a ton of dread wrapped around me.

Instead of soothing me he smothered me in angst, and regret. His warm hold felt constricting instead of comforting. His low murmurs echoed in my ears, morphing into rage filled howls. Even his scent that was usually tantalizing now reeked of bitterness and ire.

I winced as he apologized. His 'sorrys' and 'I didn't knows' pounded shards of repentance deeper into my heart. My pain coiled around my spine, blinding me with agony. With every second it intensified as the source shifted. Soon my tears weren't based on the child I'd just seen encased in my tanned belly – the one I'd lost. My tears now derived from the child that I hadn't allowed a chance to make my belly swell – the one I'd gotten rid of.

“I'm so sorry, Larry.” I croaked, my chest rattling as the words came to life on my tongue. “I'm sorry.”

“Marlee, it's okay, my baby.” He cooed, peppering kisses on my forehead.

He rocked me like a child, determined to dead my pain. He coddled and cosseted me when it should have been the other way around.

Larry was so many things. He was selfish and self-serving but nestled between the two was selflessness. It amazed and saddened me at the first same time.

In a matter of months I remembered a man who'd left me hanging when I needed him most while also experiencing a man who would carry me on his back to peace with his last bit of strength.

I could remember loosing our first child and feeling alone even though I wasn't. Larry had been there for me in every way yet I managed to push him away. We fought a lot and when we weren't fighting I was busy isolating myself. I remember feeling like loosing my baby affected only me, though Larry had lost the same thing. I'd blamed myself because it was my body that was designed to house and nurture our child and hadn't.

The second time around had been even more difficult. Reality had set in, making it apparent that I wouldn't be a mother without certain stipulations – stipulations that excluded my body as a whole. We had options, surrogacy and adoption, but I had no interest in either. And I think my failure to comply, mixed with my depression and overall poor attitude encouraged Larry to distance himself from. I didn't blame myself completely but I understood the part I played in that phase of our marriage.

By the third pregnancy, which was anything but planned, our marriage was inches away from the dumpster. In fact, immediately after the child was conceived what was left of our union deteriorated. My fears of both having another warped pregnancy and being alone led me to the abortion clinic. It had been a solo effort that Larry hadn't known about until after and in retrospect I felt terrible about it. And those feelings were raining down on me like shards of glass.

“Stop cry,” He urged as my wails grew in strength and sound, rattling my body. “Please don't cry, baby.” His lips were close to my ear, making it impossible for me to miss the pain webbed between his words.

He'd lost what I lost, I reminded myself. And he'd just seen the very same picture I'd seen yet instead of reacting to his own trauma he worked to rid of mine.

“Larry,” I murmured, freeing myself from his hold. “I'm so sorry.”

I was able to easily spot the confusion on his face even beyond the blur of my tears.

“Sorry – why baby?” He pulled me back to him but his eyes never flitted from my face.

“The abortion – I'm so sorry I got the abortion.” He froze and every part of him that was warm went cold.

His grip loosened before eventually falling away, leaving me to drift alone in my self-inflicted misery.

“Wha?” He blinked, furrowing sparse brows.

“I remembered,” I rasped.

A heavy bang at the door yanked me from my midday nap. Over and over a fist pounded at the door, fueling my anger and quickening my steps.

My quick movements caused a slight amount of pain to tug at my womb but my eagerness to figure out what the fuck was going on forced me to brush it off.

Not using my best judgment, I ignored both the peephole and ability of my own voice to figure out who the maniac on the other side of the door was.

I yanked the door open only to be met with the reddened face of my husband. His eyes were red and I couldn't tell if he'd been crying, if he was high or if he was suffering from extreme exhaustion.

"What you did?!"

"How did you find out where I was?" I asked though I already knew.

"I ask you one time and don't lie to me," His heat pressed against me as he moved forward. His anger pressed into my neck, making it hard to breathe. "Did you get abortion?"

The question was posed in the calmest manner but I saw right through it. I heard the slight rattle of his voice, felt his fury radiating off of his lengthy frame. And his fear, I could've smelled it from a mile away – it reeked, poisoning my suite with its pungent flare.

"Answer!"

My sharp intake of air soiled my calm façade just as his quivering voice had done his.

"If you're asking the question you already know the answer." I muttered numbly, moving away from him and further into the suite.

His hand curling around my wrist stopped me. "Say you lie, please?" He pleaded as his grip grew more constricting with every syllable. "Please," He begged.

I didn't respond. I couldn't.

"Marlee, please baby, tell me is not true." He was desperate for a truth I could not give him.

With a sigh, I dislodged my wrist, ignoring the present throb. "I can't carry children to term, Larry."

His neck nearly snapped in two as he jerked his head back. His nostrils threatened to tear as they flared and his every cranial vein pushed his skin to the limit, protruding dangerously.

"You said it yourself, my body can't carry kids." The 'private' conversation he'd had with his twin had nothing to do with this but I didn't care.

"You get abortion – yes or no?"

"Larry—"

"Yes or no?!" He roared, disturbing everything in the room.

"Yes!"

The silence that filled the space was deafening. The pressure made my eardrums pop and eyes water.

He was so still and so quiet that had I not been looking at him I would've been sure that he was gone. But he was wasn't. He was still there rooted in his spot as though he was glued there.

His eyes blazed with enough fire to wipe out of New York as he glared at me. I'd never seen so much disgust in his eyes – felt so much hate. My glare matched his, going against everything that I ever thought we would be.

Here we were, staring each other down, in a hotel suite I'd run away to after aborting his child, with enough heat and energy to build an atomic bomb. I never dreamed we'd turn into this. I never foresaw myself looking at him with such repulsion. I was nauseous and it had nothing to do with what I'd paid a doctor to do to me.

"I don't know why you mad – you don't even fucking want me." I snapped, pacing around his frozen frame. "Why don't you go have a baby with that Luzy bitch."

My words jolted him to life and within seconds he was in my face. His atomic heat melted away my resistance but I refused to crack. I refused to reveal that inside I was weeping and still longing for everything that he was.

“Don't ever say that shit to me again,” His voice was a low growl.

“Whatever.” I muttered, not knowing what part set him off the most – the part about him not wanting me or the part about Luzy.

“Y–you get pregnant and not tell me, Chink?” His voice cracked despite his effort to keep it steady.

“I called you, and where the fuck were you?! Where the fuck were you?” I pushed him and when that wasn’t enough I slammed a fist into his chest. “Huh?!”

“Stop touch me.”

“Fuck you, Larry!” My fist met his chest again.

“Fuck me?” His eyes blazed with fury. “You say fuck me when I come to you after find out that you get abortion? You my wife, Marlee.”

“And it seems that you only remember that when shit don’t go your way.” I scoffed. “I can’t have kids, Larry. I didn’t need your permission or approval to do what I did.”

“Is just as much my baby too, Marlee! How you so selfish?!”

“Selifish?”

“That’s what I say.” He deadpanned. “All this times we try for baby and it never be right because of whatever and you just get rid of one and it can be okay.”

A gnarly mixture of disbelief, anger and pain marred his face. His eyes blazed, showing his fury – they matched mine but our anger was rooted from two different places.

“And if it wasn’t?” I challenged only for him to refuse me an answer. “I can’t take another failed pregnancy, Larry. I’m not strong enough for that.”

“You say it like you have to be strong by yourself.”

“I don’t have you! Fuck you mean?!”

“I'm not you boyfriend or some guy you just fuck – I'm your husband!” He roared. “A decision like that can't be made without me!”

“Now you wanna be my husband.” My laughter was cold. “Get the fuck out.”

“I not leave until you tell me why you did what you did,” He growled, stepping even closer to me. “And why I go to Erin house to look for you and she tell me you have abortion?”

His admission knocked my world off its axis and nearly knocked me off my feet. My mouth fell open but nothing came out – not even a whisper of a breath..

“Answer!” He roared, pressing his forehead angrily to mine.

Ignoring both Larry and his rage, I moved away from him and over to the bed where I'd discarded a pair of sweats. Once they were covering my legs, I went for the pair of Jordans that hadn't housed my feet since I checked in days ago.

I felt Larry following me and heard his voice but my severe tunnel vision disabled my ability to react to him. Robotically I moved around the room, dressing and murmuring to myself. When I was dressed I spared him one last glance before leaving him alone in the suite.

His calls were all that followed me as I moved down the hall towards the elevator with my key card in my pocket and rage in my heart.

"A huge part of me feels like I made the right choice based on my physical ability to carry a child and my mental stability when it came to not being able to but—" I paused as Larry wiped at tears that wouldn't stop streaming. "I know my health wasn’t the only factor in my decision." I admitted to him for what I was sure to be the first time.

My memories painted a picture of an apathetic me, one who hadn't cared how Larry felt about the decision I'd made. I wanted redemption, though I was sure if I could do everything all over again I would've made the same choice while being more cognizant of Larry and his feelings.

"I was hurt and bitter and lonely but regardless of all of that I should have never excluded you from that decision." I sighed. “I'm sorry for that.”

“I forgive you.” I was more than positive that he'd said the words aloud moreso for himself than me. He needed that, and I understood.

“Thank you.” I whispered as his face nestled against my neck.

My hands moved to his scalp in an effort to comfort but deep down I knew there was nothing any part of me could do to make him feel at ease. I was lifting rugs, sending everything we'd swept under them flying everywhere. We were both uncomfortable – me because I was forcing myself to expose my deepest, most inner thoughts and him because I was bringing up shit he longed to forget.

"I remember thinking that you didn't want me and that you wanted Luzy because she could give you what I couldn't – and when she said that exact thing in those texts something in me died." I wanted to put him as close to knowing why I'd done what I'd done. He would never understand or relate but I wanted to grant him as much clarity as possible – even if he didn't want it.

"For years I felt like shit because I couldn't give you a baby. And I know it hurt you that I wouldn't try with other options like surrogacy." I sniffed, ignoring the fresh wave of tears that drifted down my face.

His lifted his head, peering at me with the saddest eyes I'd ever seen. They were damp and red but I knew he wouldn't cry. His selflessness would tug him away from his own emotions to tend to mine. And to prove my point, he reached out swiping my tears away with a gentle thumb.

"But I think you think I get mad and blame you and I don't." He insisted. "Yes, I want my way and I want baby but I understand and respect your feelings."

"Yet you went and told another woman about our... issues. You confided in her. You exposed my biggest flaw to her and," I wiped roughly at my face, completely over the waterworks. "I know you weren't being malicious but it felt like it."

"I just talk to her like my friend. I never complain or talk bad for you I just think I can trust her and tell her some things." He gripped my hand. “And I'm sorry for that. I know what she do embarrass you and make you look crazy and everything I say to her not right – I know this. Chink, I never love her or even want her – she just remind me of you when you happy and–“

“I hate when you say that.” I snatched my hand away from his. “Because I would never in a million years do what she did! So don't tell me that she reminded you of me. I'm not like that.”

“I'm sorry.” He quickly apologized and I nodded my acceptance.

Quiet consumed the room and I briefly wondered if we were even getting anywhere. We were exposing old wounds and saying things we should have said eons ago but for what? Were we trying to move on together? Or move on from each other? Was this closure? Or the peace we both longed for?

“How did this become us?” My questioned prompted more tears.

“We make so many mistakes.” He took my hand in his. “But I never stop loving you, Marlee.”

“How?!” I sniffed. “I did such a terrible thing to you.”

He frowned. “How you can ask me that when you love me no matter what I do? In the past and even stupid shit I do just 3 months ago?”

I shook my head. “I forgot everything – you never did.”

“And now you remember all the things I not want you to. So you don't love me anymore – because you remember?”  His next breath was dependent on my response.

“Of course I love you.” I was almost offended.

“So I supposed to stop love you after you make one mistake when you love me no matter how many dumb shit I do?” I didn't answer – I couldn't answer.

He stared at me with an almost peeved expression, making me feel foolish. I totally understood what he was saying but what I'd done – the way I'd done it – was a lot.

“What you do,” He sighed, looking off. “It kill me. It break my heart – bad. And for so long I live my life angry about it – angry about you not tell me, about how I find out, about how I never know why,” He trailed off as his eyes trailed over the open space of our livingroom.

“I'm still pissed.” He looked down at me, not bothering to tend to my tears this time around. “I pissed off that you didn't tell me, that I was not there to hold you and make sure you okay when you do it – and I'm pissed off because I never know if that baby was a healthy one.” He breathed a sigh that caused his body to vibrate.

“Larry–“ I whimpered only for his voice to stampede over mine.

“But I know your fear and I have that fear too so I would have never in my life asked you to even be pregnant long enough to know if that baby was healthy – I just wish so bad that I was a part of that decision.” His weeping eyes fell onto mine. “But I get it – I know you and everything I do and I get it. You wrong for it but you human. I put you through so much and not be there when you need me so you act  without me. I get it.” He was pounding the declaration into his own head. “But I'm still pissed.”

By now my tears had blurred my vision completely, making a mess of me. I sniffed and snotted, quaking against Larry as a mixture of guilt, angst and longing loomed in my lungs.

“Marlee, you have to forgive yourself.” Larry spoke, gripping my chin and raising my head. “This not about me forgive you – you have to forgive you first.”

“I can't.” I whined, covering my face with my hands.

“If you don't how you be happy – how we can be happy?” His speaking of a we made my soul quake.

I wanted so badly understand my feelings but I knew I never would, and because of that I wanted to bottle them up and toss them away. My memory wasn't sharp enough to understand. I felt disconnect from myself and damned near every decision that I'd ever made. The only thing I was sure I'd done right at this point was love Larry.

“I don't know.”

“I remember even when we young you feel like you don't deserve so many things – even me. You focus so much on all the bad that happen to you in your life that you try to push away the good because you think you not deserve it, or something bad happen to it.” He pulled my hands away from my face and stroked his fingers gently over my eyes, granting me sight. “You deserve everything you want, Chinky.”

He caressed my cheeks and stroked the pad of his thumb over my lips. “And I pray so hard to god that you still want me.”

-

marlee.

“Thanks for coming with me,” My voice was airy and lifeless. It was a direct reflection of my current mood.

“That's what friends are for, right?” She grinned but this was no grinning matter.

I wasn't having her accompany me to pick out a new couch or pair of shoes. She was taking me to smudge out a piece of my future. She was taking me to abort the child Larry and I had made hours before everything went to shit.

I was in route to abort a child that was made out of love because of hate, hurt and fear.

I told myself over and over that this pregnancy would be no different from the others. I reminded myself of the pain and heartache I'd endured. I exposed scars that still hadn't quite healed and ripped stitches out of the ones that were almost well.

I did everything possible to ease my guilt. But I still felt guilty. I felt like a terrible human – a bitter bitch of a terrible human.

What if this was a good one?

I cringed at the fact that I was regarding what could be a child – my child like an egg. The two before had been severely flawed, showing cracks and imperfections. But this one could have been different.

What if third time was the charm?

I thought about the chances of me having a healthy baby. But chances were slim. After the last time the doctors had urged us to look into other options – other wombs because mine was incompetent.

The hope that shun in my husband's eyes when he learned about surrogacy haunted my dreams for months. After I'd physically healed from Laurent he'd proposed the idea only for me to burst into tears.

He never brought it up again.

I was sure he resented me for killing his dreams – for not being enough. He'd never admit it though. He loved me too much – or so I thought.

Nowadays with the way we were he'd probably spit his nastiest thoughts of me in my face without delay. He'd probably propose Luzy to be our surrogate just to spite me.

“Why you so quiet?” The voice came from the opposite side of the car prompting me to look that way.

I shrugged. “I don't have anything to say.”

“How do you feel?” My brows rose as I blankly peered at her.

Her dark skin glowed and her hair was supple. She showed every sign of life, health and happiness. I was the complete opposite.

I wanted her to be more empathetic. I wanted her to stop smiling and sound so fucking perky. I wanted her to stop subtly dancing to the music that drifted lowly from her speakers. My misery wanted her company but my selflessness inhibited me from requesting it.

It was times like this where I wished Erin was as aware of my feelings as I was of hers. I wanted her to know what was wrong with me before I even said it. I wanted her to be in tuned with my emotions. I wanted her to balance me but she did the opposite. It sometimes seemed like my saddest days were her happiest. We were like ying and yang only there was no balance or sense of completion.

Things hadn't always been this way but I knew more than ever now that with time relationships changed no matter how bad you wanted them to remain the same.

“I'm not sure how I feel.” I felt far too many things to even begin to put it into words

“You know,” She started, making a turn that put us closer to the clinic. “I'm surprised you're even able to get pregnant. Like how?”

I blinked once and then three more times, seeking clarity. Why would she say that? How could she ask me that?

I hadn't been the most transparent with her when it came to my health – and the babies because it hurt too much to talk about it but still.

“I never had a problem conceiving, Erin.” I snapped with more bite than intended.

“I'm sorry.” She quickly apologized, catching the blatant irritation in my tone. “I just–“

“I don't want to talk any more. Please.” Her nod was shaky and I was more than grateful for her quick compliance. I'd expected an argument.

The sound of my phone ringing blared out into the quiet of the car. Erin slowed to a stop as we reached a red light and I watched her peer nosily down at my phone which rested on my thigh.

“Yo, why this bitch keep calling you?” I cringed but bit back my defense of Delilah. “This like the third fucking time.

She was right, this had been Delilah's third time reaching out in the past hour. Her attempts were desperate and I knew why – she was trying to stop me from doing what she considered to be a mistake.

I sighed when the phone finally stopped ringing. I didn't want to talk to her – I didn't have anything to say. I'd said everything that I needed to say and heard as much as I could from her.

“She on ya body – fa wha?” I ignored Erin and her jealousy as the thought of Erin telling Larry my plans came to mind.

I knew she wouldn't. Despite the fact that he was her brother she'd never break my trust like that regardless of how much she disagreed.

Erin was my sister and she loved me and knowing that made my stomach hurt when I thought of all the cruel things I'd said to her during our last conversation. Her intentions had been pure and I'd been nothing but a cold heart bitch to her. I was wrong and I knew it.

I tucked my phone away from Erin's prying eyes as I made a silent promise to call D when this was all over and apologize.

“She's just... concerned.” I muttered as the clinic cam into view.

“You didn't do it wrong.” I was shocked that she'd answered and that shock led to me blurting the very first words that came to mind.

Her face crumpled with confusion. “What?”

“I was so wrong, D. I should have never – I don't know why I said those mean, horrible things – well, I do know why and–“ I rambled only for her to cut me off.

“What you even talking for?”

“I said such nasty things, inconsiderate things–“ I could cry just thinking of them. I couldn't even begin to imagine how I would have felt had our roles been reversed.

“Oooh,” Remembrance and then annoyance consumed her face. “That's why you call me whining.”

“Don't make light of shit.” I snapped. “It's already hard for me to–“

“Apologize?” She deadpanned, cutting me off for the millionth time. “How is hard when you know you wrong? Should be easy, yes?”

I sighed, remembering just how difficult she could be.“Can you not give me a hard time?”

“Is what I'm good at.” Her carelessness was equally as annoying as her smart mouth. “But I know you sorry.” She added, shrugging.

Silence loomed between us and when her prying eyes got to be too much I spoke again.

“Do you think I made the right choice?” I sighed. “What if–“

“Is something we never know and you must live with that.” She cut me off. “Everything happen for a reason and,” She paused seemingly putting her words together. “If is healthy baby I think you and Larry do no good for it because of all you go through at the time and,” Her words fell off.

“And?” I urged.

“And if is not I don't think you survive loose another one.” She softly expanded. “Everything happen for a reason.”

“I wanna believe that, D.” I chewed my lip as my eyes glazed with the beginning of tears. “I want to believe that I acted and did what I did for the sake of my health, mental and physical but deep down I feel like my bitterness and resentment did the dirty work and – how the fuck do I live with that shit?”

“Like you already do.”

“Miserably.” I mumbled, thinking about the current state of my life.

“You mad right now because you remember how stupid my brother is,” She rolled her eyes. “But what I see when I see you and my brother is happiness – joy. Love. You not live miserable life.”

I scoffed.

“You come here to be with my brother and then again to be away from him and both time I see happiness when he around. And this after you say you want divorce!” She attempted to reason but my mind blocked the images her words produced.

“That's because I hadn't remembered how terrible things had gotten.” I muttered. “How terrible he had been to me.”

Her sigh was loud but seconds later words followed. “This true but you can't fake love.”

“What's love when there's no respect, loyalty?”

“Love.” She shrugged.

“Sadly that's not enough.”

She frowned but it didn't last long. I watched curiously as her face softened and eyes formed a glow. Seconds later a small head with bushy curls came into the camera frame. His little face was next and I instantly spotted ketchup smeared on his mouth.

“Martin,” I cooed. “Baby, did any of that ketchup make it to your mouth?”

He smiled a toothy smile that made my heart flutter.

“Say hi.” Delilah instructed, peering lovingly at her son.

“Hi.” His voice was an airy whisper and the H was no where to be found.

“Hi baby!” I smiled my first genuine smile in days.

“You're working on his English?”

“I try.” A light frown marred her features but it quickly dropped when Martin rested his head on her chest. “Larry say is good for him to know but is so hard. I barely know.”

“Larry barely knows.” I muttered and she smiled clearly hearing me.

“My brother, he make you mad always but you love him.” She told me as though I didn't know – as though he wasn't my first thought when I woke up and my last before I went to sleep.

“Never said I didn't.”

“Then what you saying? You leave him... again?” Her blunt nature irritated me. Then again, I knew that if I wanted to be babied I'd have to call Laure.

“I don't know what I want to do.” My words weren't entirely true. I knew what I wanted to do but I felt like I needed to do the complete opposite.

“I ask you something, okay?”

I nodded after what seemed like several seconds of hesitation. Fear clouded every crevice of my being. D bracing me to ask a question was unheard of. She was so blunt and flagrant that she normally said whatever she needed to say without a buffer and no apology after.

“Now you know you get abortion – do you think is worse than what my brother do?” She asked the question that had been plaguing me, hunting me for days now.

“I don't know.” The truth ran away from my lips. “Do you think it's worse?”

She shrugged, refusing to answer.

“I mean, you called me a selfish bitch and said Larry should have left me in the hospital so I guess you do.”

“You say to me that I do it wrong cause I fuck with trash nigga I barely know and end up pregnant.” The things I'd said to her crippled me. “We say things we don't mean a lot, hmm?”

Larry's footsteps lumbering down the hall alerted me of his presence like a shrill alarm. “D, I'll call you back.” I rushed out.

Her farewell was cut short by me ending the Facetime call just as Larry appeared in the doorway. I wasn't sure why I didn't want him to know I was speaking to Delilah but I didn't.

My heart raced as I peered at him and when it became too much I looked away, focusing on my laptop. My beloved puppy who'd been neglecting me for her dad, raced to the bed and nuzzled against me as I pet her.

Before calling Delilah I'd been doing some online shopping in an effort to distract myself. However when my thoughts got too loud I'd abandoned my shopping cart and called her. I'd been seeking redemption and maybe a little bit of clarity but now I felt even more confused than before.

Was what I'd done worse than all of Larry's actions?

The question loomed over my head. It looped and echoed, and Larry's presence at the moment only proved to intensify it.

I couldn't understand why he wanted to be with me knowing what I'd done. I knew he knew, I just didn't know how he'd found out. Had I told him to spite him? Had a doctor reached out? Had D slipped up?

Everything in the beginning was starting to make sense now. His distance, his anger. I was somewhat of his enemy and he was forced to in a way take care of me. He'd resented me and I understood why.

“You not ready..?” His words tore through the air like thunder, interrupting my thoughts.

Staring at him, I tried to figure out whether or not he was trying to ask a question or make a statement.

“Ready for what?” I peered down at Millie as she shuffled around in my lap before finding her comfort and settling.

“You have doctors appointment. I say this to you the other day.”

“Oh,” I sighed, shutting my Macbook. “I forgot.”

“I'm not surprised.” He smiled sadly.

“What does that mean?” He always thought it was appropriate to joke about my forgetfulness as I was an amnesia patient but this time his voice had a different quality to it. It wasn't joking at all.

“You have a lot on you mind. You think a lot lately.” His words were muttered as though he didn't want to face them. It was as if he didn't want them to be his reality.

Fear. That was what'd morphed his tone and dimmed his eyes. His uneasiness caused his shoulders to droop and feet to drag. He was having doubts about the doubts I was having about him.

I made a sound in my throat but said nothing. There was nothing to say.

“We leave in fifteen minutes?” He half asked and I nodded before climbing off of the bed to get ready.

-

“This isn't the doctor's office.” I spoke as Larry maneuvered into a rare vacant space in Harlem.

His smile was microscopic and didn't come close to reaching his eyes. “You not eat at all today.” When I spared no response he went on. “And we have a little time before appointment.”

“I haven't been that hungry.” I sighed, glancing at the red awning. “And we could have easily stay home and eaten.”

He huffed. “I just wanna get out, take you somewhere and eat.”

He was trying, and his frustration revealed how difficult it was for him, as he hadn't tried in the past. I didn't know what pissed him off more – being ignored or having to fight his way into my good graces.

Larry was prideful. Him putting himself out there bothered him. He hated being vulnerable when it wasn't reciprocated. I understood but I couldn't say I cared.

Larry was walking in the very shoes I'd been in as our marriage tumbled downhill. I knew all about being ignored. I knew the sensation of feeling unappreciated well – too well. I wouldn't wish those feelings on him but I was also pretty apathetic when it came down to him experiencing them.

“Fine. We go back home.” He said when I failed to respond. His voice was clipped and jaw tensed.

I kissed my teeth. “Why are you even mad?”

“I not mad. I just tired.” He didn't bother looking at me.

“Tired of what?”

“You.” I'd braced myself for his response yet the blow from it still sent me spiraling.

He'd said it with such ease and no thought. He was confident in his answer and had no qualms about it.

“What the fu– What have I done for you to be tired of me?” It was nearly impossible for me to keep my tone leveled.

“I tell you I love you and wanna fix us marriage and be with you and you say the same for me. You say to me you love me and need me but now you want space – AGAIN! You go to Paris for space and I follow and thinking maybe we fix it. Now you want more. You get mad at me for everything twice now – two times in life and now you pissed because what I do but I can't undo. I'm not a magic man.”

“I can't change how I feel.”

“And I can't fix what I do. So what that make us?' He challenged, glaring at me.

“The shit you did hurt Larry! I can't just fucking get over it because you want me to!” My will to remain calm was slipping away.

“So I get torture twice? You say to me in the past that you forgive me and when you don't forgive you want a divorce.” His words echoed through his lengthy pause. “I know I do stupid, bad shit and that's why in the beginning I was ready to let you go because I know that's what you want. I tell my twin I know you hate me if I let you be with me when you don't remember anything, and I was right.”

My heart caved and lungs collapsed. I remembered his distance early on. I'd thought he hated me because of what I'd done but in actually he'd been protecting himself – from me. He'd predicted this, not only because he knew me through and through but because he knew his past behaviors bordered on unforgivable.

“I don't hate you.”

“To me it feel like it. You don't wanna see me or talk to me and when you do you say one words answers only.” His sad eyes found mine. “I know everything I do is bad – I warn you of this. I mean, it was bad for you to want to divorce me but you tell me you can forgive, and I believe you because I know my life better with you than without.”

“I know is hard for you to live through things that hurt you again when you already do in life. I know is hard for you because is hard for me. I see you get mad and cry and I hear you yell about all this shit. I read the separation papers and then the divorce papers.” The back of his hand pressed firmly against his lush lips. “You not the only one to go through shit.”

“I know that.” I snapped.

He shook his head – slowly, sadly.“I not think you do. You remember bad shit that happen to you and the feelings that come with that and before you remember I worry for you to remember and pray you don't. And not just because I do bad shit as a husband but because I don't want you to hurt. When you remember not only do I have to have see you hurt but I have to see your eyes look at me with disappointment – again. I have to be ignored and I have to give you space and I respect it but at the same time I don't because what about bad things you do for me?”

My throat went barren.

“I remember every single day. And I never lose my memory – I never forget so every day I hurt, and remember. And I never ask you for space or hate you cause you hurt me. I forgive.” I was left to assume what he was talking about exactly.

The abortion.

He didn't say it and I was sure it was because he wasn't sure I'd remembered it. But I did.

I remembered the frustrating car ride with Erin and the cold, uncomfortable table. I remembered the pain and nausea after the procedure was complete. I remembered checking into a hotel because home wasn't home anymore. I remembered crying until I threw up and throwing up until my stomach contained nothing but memories.

I briefly wondered how Larry had found out only to realize that I didn't want to know. I didn't even want to begin to imagine the hurt and anger he must've experienced.

“Larry–“ I started, ready to ask him why he hadn't given up on us, why he had forgiven me but the light blow of a horn interrupted me.

My head snapped to the left where a black Audi had pulled next to us. I watched as Larry rolled the window down, allowing the voice of the brown faced woman to fill the space.

“You moving?” Her voice was clipped and heavy. It didn't fit her face, as she had soft pretty features.

“No.” I spoke before Larry could, forcing him to swing his head in my direction.

The girl pulled off without another word to continue her search for parking on the popular Harlem block.

“Let's just eat.” I muttered, undoing my seat belt as Larry's curious eyes roamed over my face.

Eating was better, eating was smart. I felt as though our conversation was slowly treading into blame game territory and I didn't want that. We were already in raging waters – playing tit for tat would surely sink our ship.

With a nod he shut the car off and exited, rushing around to my side. Once I was out of the car the humid summer air embraced me, though it was completely unwelcome. Also unwelcome was Larry's hand which took mine captive as we moved towards Red Rooster.

It took no time for us to be seated, as it was midday on a weekday.

The popular eatery was every bit of warm and inviting. Everything from the yellow hued lights to the perfectly curated paintings on the wall felt like home. The aroma of soul food tainted the air, dizzying every single patron with food lust. Jazz spilled lightly from the speakers – low enough not to disrupt conversations but loud enough to mark it's place in the room. The energy was magical – and in the midst of it sat Larry and I.

I took my time reviewing the menu. My normally indecisive nature didn't have a place here as I knew exactly what I wanted but the menu was the perfect way to stall. I took my time, reading each option. Everything sounded amazing and the more I browsed the hungrier I got.

By the time the waiter crowded our table for the third time, I gave in rattling off my order after a frustrated Larry finished his.

With the menu no longer in front of me, acting as a barrier from my husband, I felt vulnerable. And his piercing stare wasn't making it any better. It felt as though he was trying to intimidate me, or burn a whole through my face.

“Larry,” I started through a sigh. “I know you wanna talk – I know you've been wanting to talk but can we just wait?”

His frustrations lined his face before my request was even complete. “Why we wait for? Wait for what?”

“You know how I am. I have to sit on my thoughts so that I don't say the wrong thing. I can't react in the moment and I know you're the opposite and always say exactly what you're thinking in the moment, even if it's harsh. I can't do that. I can't risk it.”

He scowled. “What you risk?”

“Us.”

-

“So how we doing, Miss Marlee?” The light and cheerful voice of my doctor drifted into the space as she entered the room, shutting the door behind her.

“I'm okay. You?”

“Can't complain.” She smiled before looking towards the corner Larry occupied. “How you doing, Larry?”

“Good.” He muttered, sounding the complete opposite of the word he'd supplied.

Dr. Scott nodded, taking immediate notice of our less than positive energy. We were practically polluting the place but it was nearly impossible not to.

Our lunch hadn't been awkward but it wasn't necessarily an experience I wanted to relive again either. We'd been mostly quiet, letting the chatter of others around us fill the void our voices left. Everything Larry said to me seemed passive aggressive and everything I said to him read as evasive. It was a shit show that even the waiter picked up on, leading him to avoid us for the most part.

That poor energy had followed us here, shifting the sterile air. We needed to be quarantined in an effort to keep from plaguing anyone else. We were poison.

“Marlee, talk to me. What's new?” I shrugged and instantly scolded myself for behaving like a teenager who lacked the necessary skills to express myself.

“Tu veux que je parte?” (You want me to leave?)

“Non,” I quickly answered, knowing he thought my lack of everything was due to him.

I sparred him a reassuring glance before looking back to a curious Dr. Scott “I've been okay – I suppose. Physically I'm fine.”

“Any headaches? Night terrors?”

“No.”

“Have you been feeling faint or lightheaded?” I shook my head. “Nauseous?”

“No. Just overwhelmed.”

“By what exactly?” She paused from taking notes to peer at me.

“The past.”

“I hate to say it but that's to be expected. You're experiencing a lifetime of memories in a short amount of time. Being overwhelmed is beyond normal.” Her words brought no relief but still I nodded.

“Have you been journaling?”

I sighed. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Because usually when I remember something from my past I focus on trying to forget it. Writing it down isn't conducive to forgetting.” The small smile on my face clashed with my words.

Her face remained neutral but concern was very much evident in her eyes. “We spoke about counseling before. Is that still something you're opposed to?”

“Pretty much. I survived all of this shit before – I'm just merely remembering it. I think I'll be fine.”

She shook her head, sending sandy brown curls dancing. “It's not just about remembering things. Some of your recollections can be triggering and given your past–“

“I'm fine,” I snapped with too much edge.

“...Okay.”

“I'm sorry.” I peered apologetically at her. “I just don't need a psychiatrist, a journal or any anti-depressants. I need time, and in time I'll find my peace. That's it.” I told her as my eyes zeroed in on my husband.

"I just don't understand."

"It's not for you to understand." I bit back.

His brows rose and lips opened ever so slightly. He had more to say but frankly I didn't care to hear it.

He'd invited me for lunch and my greed and ridiculous cravings wouldn't allow me to say no. I came hoping he'd be able to put a smile on my face but he was doing the opposite, and it pissed me off.

Things between he and I had been odd since that horrible night where Larry had appeared at our dinner table uninvited. I knew his opinion of me changed.

He felt a way about me 'going back' to Larry. He more than likely viewed me as weak, stupid even.

Despite him having minimal knowledge on my marriage he looked down on it, though he never came out and said anything.

Until now.

I wanted so badly to express to him that now was anything but the right time for him to take the podium and give an opinion on my life and it's workings.  But in order to do that I'd have to clue him in on what was going on, and I'd die before doing that.

I was pregnant and I didn't want to be. That alone made my every emotion spike. Him being so open about his feelings towards my marriage agitated each and every one of my nerves.

I knew his issue wasn't with me but with my husband. He didn't like him. Larry had been rude and aggressive and I knew that left Pierre with more than a bitter taste in his mouth when it came to my spouse. And I understood that. I too would feel a way about my friend's significant other not only disrespecting me but being a terrible spouse. I too would want better for my friend.

And while I couldn't do anything about Pierre wanting better for me, I wouldn't allow him to talk crazy about Larry.

I was more protective of Larry than any other being on this earth. And though we weren't in the best of terms I wouldn't let anyone defame or talk down on him in anyway.

"You deserve so much more, Marlee." His eyes were as soft as his voice but they did not soothe me.

I scoffed even as I silently agreed. "What's more? You?"

Words escaped him as he stared at me, bewildered and maybe a bit irritated. He couldn't relate to me and he never would.

As a friend I wanted to explain to him how much I appreciated his concern and support but as a pregnant lady on the brink of a divorce I wanted to tell him to fuck off.

My will to react without thought was stronger than ever. I was usually the type who offered delayed reactions with everything, as my initial reaction was always too harsh – too detrimental.

I wanted to spare Pierre's feelings but then again he was not sparing mine. In this moment his words were triggering, and frankly they pissed me off – mostly because they were true.

"Look," I glared at him. "Imma go."

I was on my feet before he finally reacted.

"I just want you happy." His words tugged at the bitterness than loomed behind my heart, freeing it.

"Yeah, me too." I muttered before trudging away.

-

this is long.  I hope you guys enjoy.

marlee.

“Bitch, we should go out!” My voice slit the air in half, overpowering the gentle sound of James Blake who had been crooning on repeat for an hour now.

My statement earned her eyes and then a smirk that let me know she wasn’t completely against the idea. I nearly smiled – easygoing Erin was my favorite.

“Go out where?” She gazed at the backwood in her grip before bringing it to her lips.

She wasn’t much of a drinker. Smoking was her thing. And she did a lot of it.

“I don’t know,” I shrugged and then cackled. “Let’s do 1OAK.”

“You need to stay your drunk ass here.” She murmured as a smirk bit at the corners of her lips.

“I’m not drunk.” I swore. “I only drank wine.”

She chuckled, smirking at me. “Yeah bitch, a whole fucking bottle!”

With a laugh, I glanced at the Petrus bottle on the table. It was my special occasion wine, as it was very expensive but at the moment there was nothing special about my life. It was the complete opposite.

“Let’s get pretty and gooo.” I pinched her bare thigh, disrupting my own rancid thoughts with my words.

“I’m only going out if we in VIP.” She took a pull of her weed. “I ain’t with that standing in heels all night shit.” She snapped on the exhale.

“Fuck I look like?’ I quickly responded, offended. “Of course we’ll get a table.”

“I’m just saying.” She murmured and then cackled at my peeved expression. “I ain’t realize you were a socialite and shit.”

I wanted to remind her that Larry lived in clubs but now wasn’t the time to bring him up. Erin would probably go on and on about how trash he was and then we’d argue because of my automatic will to defend my husband. He was problematic but he was my problem. Bad mouthing him in any capacity was unacceptable. It was grounds for me to go the fuck off.

“I mean, you know.” I smirked and then stood, leaving the topic there. “I need something to wear too.”

“You wanna drag me out to some raggedy ass club filled with a bunch of scammer niggas and you wanna stretch my shit out too?!”

“Fuck you mean, stretch your shit out?!” I frowned. “You callin me fat, Erin?”

She shrugged. “You sure as fuck don’t wear a size 2 like me.”

“Yo, you rude as fuck,” I snapped and she grinned. “Just find me some shit that stretches.” I muttered, standing and leading the way to her bedroom.

It took what seemed like forever for us to get dressed. Most of the time was spent arguing. Erin insisted that we just stop by my place so that I could grab one of my own dresses but I didn’t want to go there. It was cold and empty and a reminder that my life wasn’t playing out as planned – that my marriage was a joke.

I needed her to understand that without me having to explain it. I needed her to stop trying to oversimplify things, namely my life and feelings.

In the end, I won the argument though for a while it seemed as though I wouldn’t. Arguing with her was exhausting. Most times I wanted to tap out just for the sake of staving off a migraine.

After having me swear to God and put my word on everything else I loved Erin allowed me to squeeze into a chartreuse colored Herve Leger number she had. With it I wore the strappy Sergio Rossi heels I’d had on earlier.

“Shit, this bitch keeps riding up.” I complained, tugging at the containing material. “Next thing I know, my ass gon be out.”

“This line is too fucking long, Marlee.” Erin huffed, ignoring my complaints.

She didn’t care how uncomfortable the dress was. The only thing she cared about was me not spilling the cocktails I intended to drink on it.

“Okay…” I cut my eyes at her.

She muttered something under her breath and I knew straightaway that it wasn’t pleasant. Not wanting to argue with her, I bypassed the line and headed for the door.

“Deucy,” I smiled up at the bouncer.

His frown deepened at the sound of his name but as soon as his hardened gaze found mine he stopped scowling and smiled a smile that could brighten even the darkest soul.

“Marlee,” He cooed.

It was hard to believe that one of the toughest bouncers is the city was smiling and cooing my name when seconds prior he was threatening to dismember some unruly white kid whose privilege wasn’t strong enough to grant him entry.

“Hi, honeybear.” I cooed, embracing him.

His midsection was sturdy and wide, inhibiting me from wrapping my arms completely around him. He never seemed to mind or notice as he worked to squeeze the life out of me.

“Its been too long,” He spoke, releasing me from his hold.

As soon as I was free, I worked to position my dress for the night at the appropriate length. Knowing I’d be playing a game of tug-a-war with the designer hemline annoyed me but it was the small price I had to pay for not wanting to venture home.

“I know! You been good?” I quizzed, genuinely interested.

Our small talk was disrupted by disorder in the constantly growing line and with a promise to catch me later, Deuce let us in before tending to the conflict.

“Maybe you are a fucking socialite!” Erin yelled over the music once we were in the club.

“Maybe.” I grinned, leaving it there and heading towards the bar.

With my wine wearing off I wanted another drink or four in my system immediately. We’d opted into catching Uber over to avoid the fight over who was going to be the designated sober loser.

Erin watched silently as I handed off my card to get a table and bottle service going. I could nearly hear her questions but I ignored them as the scantily clad waitress led us to VIP and the tufted booth that came with it. With a promise to return in a bit she left us to decide what we’d be poisoning our livers with.

“What you drinking?!”

Drake’s vocals filled the club, guaranteeing two things – that the people attempting to converse were yelling every word or that people were up dancing. No in between.

“Is your socialite status getting us a discount on this table? Is that why you’re handling everything?”

“I’m handling everything because I’m the one that invited you out. I want to have a good and comfortable time with my best friend.” I smiled, needing her to leave the topic alone.

But leaving shit alone was impossible for her. “I’m just saying, you knew Bubba at the door then we have this great table in VIP–“

“You ladies ready?” The waitress returned and I knew straightaway that some angel was watching over me and didn’t want to have me barking on Erin.

“Yes!” I chirped despite the fact that I hadn’t even looked at the menu. “The Code – two of em and a bottle of Armand de Brignac.” The waitress’ eyes immediately lit up as I rattled off the name of the pricey champagne.

“Perfect. Be back.”

“The fuck is the code?!”

I laughed at the expense of my friend. She wasn’t much of a drinker. “It’s Pineapple juice, D'usse and Disaronno… It’s like an amaretto sour.”

“Sounds good.”

“It really is. It’s some shit that sneaks up on you too.” I grinned. “ A couple of them and you’re good.

With an enthusiastic nod, she grinded in her seat leading to my laughter.

Our drinks came, Drake transitioned into Rihanna and Rihanna transitioned into Migos. The energy in the club was great. People seemed to be buzzing with joy – or maybe it was just me buzzing because I’d been drinking for hours now.

I’d noticed my liquor intake had increased substantially in the past few months. Of course it didn’t feel like I had a problem but it was certainly something that I noticed. I didn’t do any hard liquor, just wine, but my normal 2-3 bottles a week had turned into 5-6.

Smoking was a hobby I’d picked up on but then quickly dropped after Larry found me passed out and then rushed me to the hospital. After being placed on suicide watch the herbal drug seemed less appealing though the alcohol and anti-depressants mixture was mostly to blame.

“Bitch, we need to be over there with those niggas!” Erin’s voice exploded in my ear as she nodded towards a nearby group in VIP. “All those gold bottles and shit.” She observed. “You know they got money.” The conclusion came with a tap on my thigh.

“We got our own money. We good.” My response forced her to kiss her teeth.

“I thought you came out to have fun!” She whined.

“I did!” I gestured around. “This is fun – there’s good music, I’m here with my bitch, I got my drinks… I look amazing. Fun.”

“Sitting here half dancing to music is a dub.” She waved me off.

“Well, get up and dance, E.” She smirked at my challenge.

“You the one that – oh shit sis, he looking over here!”

“Who?” I quizzed disinterested.

I looked good – I expected men to look. I only became annoyed when they approached me with their nonsense.

My wedding ring never left my hand, making my tolerance for men and their faux ignorance slim to none. The ones that approached me were always super flagrant or the ‘yo man don’t let you have friends’ type.

“The fine nigga from that table.” Erin’s excitement didn’t quell my disinterest. “He staring hard as shit.”

Other men didn’t interest me – point blank.  I couldn’t afford to entertain them. I only desired one man. Dealing with others for the sake of boredom or lack of male energy would do nothing but put a wedge between Larry and I. The damage from Pierre and I was still very much prevalent.

“I ain’t thinking about none of that.” I took a sip of my champagne as I peered around the popular night spot.

It was crowded as usual. In between the wooden ceiling and chevron floors was a slew of energized bodies. The warm lights created a gold glow throughout the place that added to the vibrant energy.

The chill vibe here brought thousands out, most who weren’t fortunate enough to be granted access. Celebrities flocked here more than any club in Manhattan. The last time I was here I’d spotted Rihanna and the time before that Mayweather. It was a wonder people want access to the luxe but chill night spot.

“He thinking about ya stank ass. And he coming over here!!!” Her gleeful declaration was a boot of annoyance to my gut. “Bitch!” She slapped my thigh.

“Erin!” I warned, willing her to stop everything she was doing at once.

“Ladies,” The voice was like navy silk over the blaring trap music.

“Hello,” Erin greeted sweetly. “Whats ya name?” She didn’t waste a second with her advance.

I felt his gaze even as I gave my attention to the glossy, black bar and those who approached it. I watched those who desperately waved the bartenders down and rolled my eyes as I caught sight of a few guys annoyingly hovering over uninterested women.

“My name is Jarell. Yours?” I heard him speak but didn’t bother to look.

“I’m Erin.” She cooed, sweetening her voice that was usually hard and aggressive.

Erin’s annoying introduction prompted me to roll my eyes. Her sudden burst of energy around this man irked me. She’d been a drab, complaining ass bitch since we’d arrived but now that we were faced with a person with a dick she wanted to show out.

Typical.

“And yours?” The smooth voice called out as the rim of my champagne flute met my lips.

My glare flickered upwards, clinging to a pair of round brown eyes that read as innocent. His gaze narrowed at the contact and he watched patiently as I took my premeditated sip of my drink.

“My what?”

“You name?” His clarification was partnered with a pinch from Erin.

“My name is Marlee.” I announced, not caring to dilute the boredom in my tone.

“Cool.” He nodded and then smiled. It was a great smile compromised of white teeth and lush lips. “You Jamaican?”

“Nope but she is.” I quickly diverted the attention back to Erin, not caring to have it on myself.

The sound of her kissing her teeth was music to my ears. She hated talking about her West Indian background and after years of friendship I still didn’t quite understand why.

“Really? Where in Jamaica?”

“Kingston.” She was lying but I wouldn’t dare call her out on it.

“That’s cool. I just spent some time down in Saint Catherine.” I nearly laughed, as that’s where she was really from.

“Why you go there?!” Her disgust was evident.

Not caring to hear his answer, I glanced away from the two. My eyes roamed over the expanse of the club as the lyrics of the Gucci Mane song the DJ selected fell from my lips.

“Can I buy you ladies another bottle?”

Her ass was probably doing an internal bankhead bounce, I thought as he pretty much confirmed that he did indeed have money. He was offering to buy a whole $400 bottle of champagne as compared to simply dropping $30 for a new round of drinks.

“We’re fine.”

“Yeah,”

Our answers were simultaneous and complete opposites to my dismay.

“You sure can, Jarell.” Erin reiterated, cutting her eyes at me, daring me to say anything.

I took the dare with my chest out. “Jarell, we appreciate it but we’re fine, really. We haven’t even finished this bottle.” I gestured to the gold bottle on our table and offered him a small smile.

“Well Miss Marlee, can I at least have a dance?”

My smile dropped marginally. “Later?”

“I'mma hold you to that.” He smiled, bid Erin a goodbye and went back to his group of rowdy friends.

“Bitch!”

“You don’t even drink like that, E!” I laughed.

“So what! It was free liquor.”

“No, there was definitely a fucking cost. His ass would have bothered us the whole fucking night had he dropped money for that bottle.”

“You need somebody to bother your uptight ass.” She concluded, partially giving me her back.

Not caring about her attitude I peppered kisses on her cheek before standing. “Let’s dance.”

“Nah,” She refused even as she caved under my pulling of her arm.

We danced until the songs became wack and our feet became achy. The plush seats swaddled us as Erin told cruel jokes about ill-dressed party-goers. Our laughter was loud and our hands were adorned by liquor-filled cups.

I was more than shocked when Erin demanded we have another round of cocktails plus shots. The waitress quickly gathered up the order, knowing drunkenness led to more spending. With the liquor came a spike of energy and yet again we were up dancing to the latest in music. I was first to burn out and sat while Erin continued to go at the music.

“He fine as shit!” Erin dramatically declared, falling against me as she sat.

Having been already seated and laughing at a twerking Erin, I shifted to accommodate her frame. The liquor had certainly spiked her energy and for a while it’d had the same effect on me. However, my racing thoughts and growing anxiety was the culprit for the chill I’d found. To my fortune Erin was too loaded to notice that I was no longer on ten with her.

“Who?”

“That nigga with the Yeezys.”

Annoyed with her description my eyes instantly moved to the floor as I searched for the person she was speaking up. When I spotted the expensive sneaker my gaze began to trek up his frame for confirmation of Erin’s claim.

“He look Puerto Rican – what you think?” She pressed, leaning closer to me. “Maybe Dominican.” She added when I failed to respond.

“Dominican.” I muttered, knowing that to be a fact.

The guy she was speaking of was one I knew, and couldn’t stand. He’d never done anything to me besides be nice but my envy made it difficult for me to acknowledge that factor. My envy was rooted in that fact that he saw my husband more than me.

The guy Erin was eye-fucking was Mike, Roy’s brother – Larry’s good friend.

“We would have some bomb ass kids!” I wanted to acknowledge her outlandish remark but I was too busy searching for the body that I knew was present.

VIP had suddenly gotten louder and more crowded. The energy had shifted. The air was denser, making it harder to breathe. Or maybe I’d just drank too much and was being ridiculous.

“You stupid.” I managed to distractedly reply to my best friend who was clueless as to what I was going through.

She replied with more foolishness only I couldn’t quite make it out. Distracted was an understatement. I was completely brainsick at this point. My vision was tunneled and searching for what I loved most.

As soon as my eyes landed on him a heat consumed my entire body. My skin began to tingle and my heart began to pound. The skimpy dress I wore felt even more constricting, making breathing a struggle.

I shifted and rubbed my neck, never once allowing my eyes to fall off of him.

A million emotions raced through my mind. My head acted as the Autobahn, hosting a plethora of feelings and giving them free reign to be as fast and reckless as they wanted.

Glee was in first place and arousal trailed closely behind it. Longing was catching up to both and not one to be outdone shame was close behind.

I was here based solely off of my emotions. And I wanted to leave because of them too.

My need to see him overruled my pride and my common sense. I wanted to be embarrassed but there was no space for that emotion as my body was far too occupied by longing and angst.

For the most part I’d been living my life as a single woman while my husband did whatever he did. Our calls were minimal, our physical contact was nearly nonexistent and to be frank, I missed him.

I missed everything about him – the light sound of his voice and the way it dropped deeper when he spoke his native tongue, his imperfect smile, his perfectly firm yet perfectly gentle touch, his scent that was exclusive to only him. Everything. But more than I missed those things that were tangible to my senses, I missed our moments. I missed us.

It was when the bright flash of blue moved out of the corner of my eye that I finally took my eyes off of my estranged husband. The cobalt unitard that Erin wore grew further and further away with each second that passed.

With a sigh and a final glance at an unknowing Larry I shuffled after her, easily finding that she was in route to the ladies room.

The neutral toned, earthy décor extended to the bathroom. The space was warm and inviting – it was homey yet refined. Mirrors lined the walls, rich woods acted as accents and the black and white stoned floor prevalent in the rest of the club was also present.

In the room of black, white and rich browns stood a vivid blue figure that was bound to turn red from anger.

“Erin,” I called her name through a sigh.

Nothing could prepare me for the war of words we were about to have. No matter how gentle I went in, how soft my voice was, how nonthreatening my approach was Erin would still bark.

And she did.

“You dragged me out cause you knew this bum ass nigga was gonna be here!” Her explosion of words lacked a question mark at the end because she knew.

My lips pressed into a line, inhibiting words from flowing outward – not that I had any. Frankly, I didn’t know what to say. She was right, I’d wanted to come here to this particular club because I knew my husband would be here.

Desperate?

Maybe.

She kissed her teeth. “That’s fucked up, Marlee.”

“I apologize.” I attempted to take the easy way out.

“Bitch, please.” But she quickly rerouted me. “You ain’t sorry.”

“I don’t want you to be upset with me.” I muttered, watching her through the mirror. “We were having such a good time.”

Her frown was deep, twisting her pretty features into a gnarly visual. Her black rimmed eyes were narrowed and locked on me. Her red lips were twisted, symbolizing her utter distaste.

“I just—” I sighed brushing my ring clad left hand over the cool gold toned counter. “I miss him. I wanted to see him.”

“For fucking what?!” She exploded, causing the thin Latina next to me to jump and then make her way towards the exit.

“What are you yelling for?” I quizzed calmly, quietly.

With copious amounts of a alcohol pumping through our systems I knew getting into it Erin wasn’t the smartest option. I needed her to watch her tone.

“Cause you out here being dumb as fuck for this nigga who don’t give a shit about you!” Disgust laced her tongue, tainting the air of the bathroom.

I blinked and chewed my inner cheek and counted backwards.

4,3,2….

“Erin, regardless of what you feel, that’s my husband and if I wanna miss him then I will. If I want to be dumb – for him then I will.”

She chuckled at my expense. Her laughing at me was meant to inject my spine with humiliation. She wanted me to feel foolish because she thought I was. She wanted to belittle me.

“A ring permits you to behave like some desperate idiot?” Her words stung. “To chase after a man who clearly doesn’t want ya ass anymore?”

Another girl approached the sink, applying her berry hued lipstick. I watched her, wishing I felt the ease she was currently exuding. Her movements were fluid and graceful. She was at peace and it showed. Meanwhile, I was about ready to pop my bitch of a best friend in the mouth.

“I never pushed my problems on you. I never pushed my marital woes on you. I never pushed Larry on you. Yet, you’re standing here judging me and acting as though I have to ask for your permission to feel anything that I feel for my man. He’s my husband and if I wanna be desperate for him or dumb for him then I will. I understand you being tight about me bringing you here but don’t use that as a platform to air out how you truly feel about me.”

My eyes left the burning ones of Erin, finding the vivid lipped girl again. Her movements were no longer fluid but stiff and robotic.

The realization that Erin’s nasty energy had worked to screw up hers annoyed me. When she caught my gaze she quickly tucked her gold tube of lipstick away and excited that bathroom.

Without another word to Erin I did the same, bidding her a silent 'fuck you’.

The trek from the bathroom back to VIP took no time as determination fueled my stride. I spotted him straightaway and without another thought I marched up to him, tapping his shoulder.

Curiosity and then recognition clouded his eyes as he looked at me. And when I failed to speak he took my silence as a cue and allowed his eyes to roam my scantily clad frame.

“I owe you a dance.” I smirked when his eyes were finally on mine.

“I thought I was gonna have to come back and beg you.” He smirked, leading me away from the booth he and his friends had been occupying.

“You don’t seem like the type of man who begs.”

“For you I woulda made an exception.” I flushed and then cursed myself for taking the corny rebuttal seriously.

I spun around, giving him my back as the bass heavy song filtered through the club. His hands instantly moved to my hips as I grinded against him.

Tilting my head back, I quickly took in my surroundings creating a countdown in my head. I knew without a doubt that this two person party would be over before the song ended.

Questions that included too much lip were whispered in my ear. My eyes slipped closed as I mouthed the words to the popular Beyoncé song.

The feel of Jarell’s hand moving down to my thigh was enough to make me falter. The feel of a pulsing heat looming over me was enough to make me freeze.

It was when the body behind me disappeared that I opened my eyes, finding a furious Larry inches away from me. I nearly laughed – it was as though he had a radar or some shit. I briefly wondered what the hell Larry had said to my dance partner to make him disappear so fast but in the end decided that I didn’t care.

The fitted cap he wore over his twisted hair was low on his face, creating a shadow that tugged at my arousal. The black garments he wore fitted him perfectly and beckoned thoughts of me peeling them away to the forefront of my mind. He looked amazing.

I stared at him, not caring that he hadn’t called me since landing in New York. Or that I’d found out that he was even in New York via his best friend’s social media account. I’d missed him, and I was happy to see him.

That’s all that mattered.

“Why you here?” He pressed rudely, distorting my previous thoughts.

“Its a free country.” I smirked, keeping my cool.

I could play games with Larry all day. I was great at this. Acting unaffected was my part time job though I could easily admit that my ability to seamlessly do so had fanned the fire that destroyed our marriage.

“You like this guy?” He jumped to the root of his irritation.

“I don’t know,” I shrugged gleefully, noting his pinched expression. “What do you think?”

The vein along his neck nearly popped as he scowled at me – eyes narrowed, nostrils flared, jaw tensed. His body wavered even as he stood stiffly. I nearly smiled.

“You cheat on your boyfriend, Pierre and go home with this guy?” His lips curled upwards, forming a mixture of a smirk and a snarl.

Typical Larry – saying nasty things to gain a reaction.

“Maybe.” I gave a typical Marlee answer – one that lacked all care.

With the speed and agility of a ninja he pulled me to him, snaking his arm around my midsection. His blunt fingertips dug into the soft space just under my rib cage as his glare narrowed in on me.

“Why you play with me?”

His warmth nearly melted me to a pile of goo. The popular Le Labo scent that wafted from his body was intoxicating in every way and I wanted nothing more than to drown myself in the essence of him. But in this moment he was feeling the complete opposite about me. He was pissed and jealous, and he looked like he wanted to choke the life out of me.

“You come here in this little dress and dance crazy. Who you wit?” The residual scent of cognac on his breath licked my upper lip as his face neared mine.

The thought of him pregaming with Roy annoyed the fuck out of me. Larry had never been much of a drinker. However, Roy had the ability to help morph the man I thought I knew so well into a drinker, a cheater, a heavy smoker – lord knows what else they got into.

At the thought of his crusty ass Dominican friend, I glanced in his direction, finding his peculiar gaze riveted on the two of us. The glare I threw at him was meant to devour his soul and feed it to demons. I couldn’t stand him and though he knew already, I wasn’t above reiterating it.

Larry grasped my chin, forcing my eyes back onto him before I could gauge Roy’s reaction. “Who you wit?”

“Jarell.” I rattled off the guys name, not interested in mentioning that I’d truly came with Erin.

His crushing grip moved from my waist to my hand and without another word he yanked me behind him as he created a one man stampede through VIP.

“Yo!” The familiar voice was enough to make me crane my neck. My resistance was enough to force a furious Larry to turn.

He paused when he found Roy rushing up to us with curiosity in his eyes and a million questions on the tip of his tongue. Disgust curdled in my stomach as he grew closer. Revolted, I took in his stringy hair and beady eyes. The BBP top that covered his upper half annoyed me because Larry had the same one and it was my favorite thing of his to wear – not anymore, I thought.

“I leave.” Larry spoke before he could.

“Bruh, we just got here and–“

Larry shook his head, cutting him off. “This important.”

His statement was a shocker. For months now I’d felt anything but important when it came to my husband. Everything else he involved himself in was important. His work, his family, his friends, his Luzy… I’d grown accustomed to being an afterthought for him – the forgotten piece of his life.

My grip on his hand tightened even as I said nothing. I had nothing to say. His words didn’t deserve an applause – me being important shouldn’t’ve even been something he had to explain. The fact that Roy even deemed it appropriate to question his leaving – with me – spoke volumes about where Larry had positioned me in his life in recent months.

“Aight, Bro.” Roy shrugged before looking at me. “Sup, Mar.”

I cringed hearing the nickname no one gave him permission to give me. “Eat a dick, Roy.” His snickers followed me as Larry pulled me towards the exit.

The ride home was dead silent. In fact the sound of Larry’s voice came only when he rattled our address off to the taxi driver and then thanked him before exiting. When we made it to the building we’d been inhabiting for years, he pulled me along, muttering a cloudy greeting to Ted.

He’d released my hand only to allow me to exit the cab and when my feet were planted firmly on the ground he took it hostage again, leading me as though I was incapable.

Once in the elevator I snatched my hand away and moved to the opposite side of the small space. “Had I known you wouldn’t fucking talk I woulda stayed with Jarell.”

Larry was on me before I could even finish my sentence. “Stop play with me, Marlee!”

“Fuck you, nigga.” I shoved his chest, sending him back to the opposite side of the elevator. “You don’t get to come back around here telling me what the fuck to do. All I did was dance with the guy.”

“You let him touch you like that – you know what people say when they see that and know you my wife?!”

I hadn’t thought of the fact that Larry was well known by the people in the club, making me well known. I also hadn’t cared.

“Do you know I’m your wife?!” I roared, earning his silence.

The elevator came to a stop on our floor and the doors slid open. Neither of us made a move. Larry’s chest was heaving as his anger coursed through him and I was forcing myself not to cry.

“Comere,” He sighed as the doors crawled to a close.

Refusing to move, I stared at him. I searched for the man I’d grown to love more than any being on this earth. His physical was the same but everything else was different. I hated it.

“Come here, Marlee.” He called again.

“Larry, I’m not fu–“

“Please.” His voice cracked, quickly shifting the energy and within seconds I was in his arms.

He held me to him, threatening to pulverize my every bone. His hug was desperate and the sighs that left his mouth were of relief. It confused me. I should have been the one having the internal celebration, not him.

My heart throbbed when his lips pressed to mine. The feel of them was foreign and familiar all in the same go. I’d spent so much time reminiscing on his kisses – his everything – and now I was experiencing it without the help of my imagination. It was sublime

It took mere seconds for the kiss to grow desperate as we both worked to catch up on what we’d been missing for what seemed like decades.

His hands moved to my ass as he hoisted me up. As my legs wrapped desperately around him, I slammed my hand on the door open button. With blind finesse Larry moved out of the elevator and down the hall towards our apartment.

“Fuck,” He rasped, pinning me to the door as his lips roamed the flesh of my neck. “I missed you so much.”

His words grew legs and ran over my nerves, triggering things I hadn’t felt in ages. Sure I was aroused but that was no tough feat. I felt wanted and that was a sensation I’d been deprived of for far too long.

Desperation curdled in my belly as I gripped Larry’s cheeks, forcing his eyes on mine. They were hazy, blurred with lust. It took them what seemed like forever to focus but when they did, I spoke.

“Unlock the door.” My voice was a thin rasp. It reeked of need, tainting the hall and tarnishing the walls.

I heard the keys only he didn’t move. His lean body was pressed to mine, making my back one with the door. His warm D'usse laced breath danced over my face and his lengthy fingers melted into the globes of my ass.

“Larry,” I hissed, impatient. “Open the door. You can’t fuck me in the hall.”

A devious smirk fitted itself to his lips, challenging my statement. A dangerous mixture of fear and arousal curled in my gut, forcing me into action.

I snatched the keys from Larry and dislodged myself from his hold, not wanting to give him enough time to prove me wrong. I knew he would. The thought scared and excited me at the same time.

Reminding myself that Ted was probably viewing the cameras, I whirled around facing the door. The action prompted Larry to immediately dropped his hands to my hips. He gripped the stubborn flesh and grinded against my ample backside, showing his lack of concern with our settings.

My hands trembled as I wrestled with the keys, trying to find the one that would grant us access. To my dismay they all looked the same.

“Larry,” I huffed. “Which key?” I breathed, trying to ignore how good his hands felt on my bare thighs.

“Argent.” He murmured, moving my hair to the side to grant him access to my neck.

“They’re all fucking silver.” I cried out.

My helpless moans drifted down the hall as his tongue danced across my neck. I prayed the walls were thick enough, that the doors were sturdy enough to block my sounds of pleasure from the neighbors.

His teeth joined the party, securing my flesh in a searing hold. My heart dropped, producing a deadly throb between my thighs. My breathing hitched, sending me wheezing like an asthmatic. My body trembled, quivered and shook, loosening my grip on keys.

The clatter rumbled through the silent corridor like a marching band, bringing my attention back to our current surroundings – back to reality.

Without thought I reached for the keys, knowing we needed to get the hell out of this hall before someone came out and spotted us. However, my husband had other things on his mind like taking advantage of my folded position.

I gasped when he raised my dress so that it bunched around my waist and groaned when his knowing fingers met my needy flesh. Fire replaced the blood in my veins as he pushed the saturated seat of my panties to the side. His fingers reacquainted themselves with the part of me only he knew.

Up and down, up and down he stroked my slit, gathering my moisture in the whorls of his fingers. “You so wet.”

His voice was a rasp and I didn’t need to see his face to know that his eyes were low and his lip was imprisoned by his teeth.

“So wet.” He whispered, as my back arched, opening me up further to him.

“Someone will see us, baby.” I whimpered, slamming my eyes shut when the pad of his thumb met my clit. “Fuck.”

“They sleep.” He swore and with that he tugged at the delicate sheer panties, ending them.

“Ted,” His fingers invaded my honeyed canal, sending me reeling. “The cameras.” I moaned, grinding against his hand.

“They not face us.” His voice was strained with concentration as he worked to tear me apart.

His deliberately curled fingers thrusted into my heat over and over, threatening my sanity and stability. I was gone, and he knew it. At this point I would fuck him downstairs on the front desk for Ted, all the neighbors and who ever the fuck else was wondering around TriBeCa to see.

“Larry,” I cooed gripping the doorknob as the little bit of sense I had withered away.

“You like that?”

“Yesss.” I spread my legs wider despite the fact that I knew accommodating Larry in such a manner would only lead to trouble, and a lot more pleasure.

He hypnotized me with his fingers, circling my engorged clit over and over and over again. Pleasure was shooting through my veins and with the help of alcohol I was in shambles.

My moans were back to back, filling the hall but my ability to care was nonexistent. I was close. My orgasm was creeping up on me at a shocking rate. I blamed my excitement and lack of proper release in the past several months.

My knees buckled and spine curled as Larry’s fingers moved slower, dragging over thousands of desperate nerves. Frantically my hands searched for an anchor to balance me in the midst of this blissful storm.

In rapid french Larry prompted me to soak his hand, and I did. I drowned it, showing him just how backed up I was due to his neglect.

By some miracle no neighbors came out to investigate as I mewled like a cat in heat.

As I slumped against the door, exhausted, Larry retrieved his keys. He quickly worked the lock, granting us the access I so desperately wanted.

Larry wasted no time backing me into yet another wall as soon as we were enclosed in our place. His kisses were hot and desperate. His touch scathing. His anticipation fueled me bringing me back to peak arousal within seconds.

“Babe, be careful. This is Erin’s dress.” I breathed as he recklessly tugged at the banded fabric.

Larry was known for destroying my garments in the process of disrobing me. My tattered La Perla panties were a prime example. His aggressive ways did wonders for my libido while severely damaging my wardrobe in the process. It was a simple equation of give and take.

However, him fucking up my best friend’s dress was not an option. The mere thought of the hell she’d raise nearly drained my vitality. She was particular about her shit and she hated Larry…

He kissed his teeth, showing his distaste. In the moment I couldn’t tell if his frustrations were rooted in the fact that his Hulk-like ways wouldn’t fly tonight or the fact that I’d mentioned Erin.

His hand rested on my hips and his eyes rested on mine. I could spot the defiance. It stood nearly as proud as his arousal, and partnered with it was apathy.

Not willing to risk it, I took a step back. My sigh was inward as his hands fell away from me.

My stare locked on his as I gripped the hem of the dress, raising it until my bare bottom half was exposed.

“Stop play,” He warned, licking his lips and pivoting forward. And though he didn’t say it, I knew that if I didn’t shed this dress quickly he’d do it – his way.

Relief swarmed me as I shoved the dress over my hips, tossing it to the side. My husband swarmed me next.

His kisses were honeyed and his touch was blistering. I felt so many parts of him on me that I couldn’t focus on the sensations each appendage created. Sensory overload would be what the coroner would scribble on my death certificate. Larry would be the suspect and his tongue, teeth, lips and hands would be submitted to evidence as murder weapons.

“You know what I miss so much?”

“What?”

“How you taste.” Liquor and lust had effortlessly remixed his voice. I loved it.

Unable to formulate words, I hissed and then shivered. My knees quaked as he neared me and gave completely when his arms went around my waist.

He handled my weight without complaint as he pressed his lips to mine, drugging me with his need. His kisses were slow and sweet but between each curl of his lips and flick of his tongue was a promise to destroy.

His lips slipped from my mouth, trailing a hot path down my neck while his hand busied itself with the needy flesh between my thighs.

“You miss me?” His voice was strangled by my flesh but I still heard him – loud and clear. However, that didn’t stop me from pretending like I didn’t.

I wasn’t quite ready to be vulnerable. Given he already had me just how he wanted me, I wasn’t ready to start verbally spilling my truth. My womanhood was screaming 'I missed you’ loud and fucking clear. That was all he needed – for now.

The soft trail of his lips was disrupted by a stinging nip via his teeth. I hissed out only to moan when he repeated the same action, adding a pinch of my nipple to the equation.

“Now you can no hear me?” With my clit being stroked, my nipple being strummed and my neck being suckled I could barely think straight. Hearing was a luxury.

My reply was a mangled whimper that left my husband dissatisfied. His punishment doubled as my pleasure as he nipped my collarbone and pinched my nipple.

“Larry,” I gasped when he was on his knees before me.

His eyes met mine and a sure smirk that was designed to cripple me contoured his lips. I cradled his head, weaving fingers between twists that needed to be done over. His lips made a journey of the fleshy globe of my breast before finally abducting my nipple into his warn cavern of a mouth.

My knees wobbled and twitched as though I was trying to emulate one of Lau’s crazy dance moves. In reaction, Larry gripped my ass tighter as though his hold there would stop me from tittering over.

His hand dropped from my ass to my equally fleshy thigh and his lips fell away from my breasts only to land on my torso. I cringed inwardly as his lips feathered over my not-so-evident rib cage down to the area just above my belly button.

My heart-rate quickened as I thought about the tenants I’d housed, and how they hadn’t survived.

He peppered the sweetest most tender kisses over my belly. His plush lips traced the space that had once been stretched by our love. His tongue ran over flesh that had been treated by non-ablative laser to rid of evidence that I’d even been pregnant. His attention to the part of my body that brought the most shame was crippling me. It was too much. And just when I was sure he would bring me to tears, he gripped my thigh, placing it over his shoulder.

His mouth was covering my pussy before I could blink. His ability to take me from one extreme to another like that was an act of terror.

I gasped at the feel of his tongue parting through my flesh and groaned when the silky appendage reintroduced itself to my clit.

My every nerve bowed to him as warmth ballooned in my belly. The silken touch of his tongue felt like everything that I’d ever wanted and needed. It was the answer to my every prayer – the outcome of my every wish.

My head fell back as his tongue swept down, circling my opening. My body froze and gushed as my brain tried to take on the multiple sensations. I was bound to short-circuit.

We should have been taking it slow as it had been a while but here we were, inebriated and going full throttle. Well, Larry was – I was merely trying to maintain my balance and keep from showing all my cards.

When his tongue slithered its way up my syrupy passageway both my balance and pride were things of the past. A pleasure induced wail left my throat and my body folded like my bones didn’t exist.

As though he expected me to crash he carefully guided me to the ground, never allowing his mouth to loose contact with my sex. When my back pressed against the wood flooring we’d meticulously picked Larry threw my legs open, stretching and spreading me to his liking.

Card after card flipped over, revealing themselves as I spasmed, shook and squirmed against his mouth.

“You missed me?” He tried again, wearing my juices as an accessory.

A broken moan was my reply but it wasn’t the answer he wanted. He tilted my hips, angling my body so that he had access to all of me. My mouth fell open and eyes nearly crossed as I tried to make sense of why this felt so good.

My soul nearly left my frame when I gazed down, finding Larry’s eyes latched to my face. His gaze was dark – ravenous, his brows furrowed. Twists fell over his forehead, creating smoldering shadows over his eyes. Needing to touch any part of him, I reached an unsteady hand out, gripping his hair.

I watched him watch me fall apart as his lips latched and pulled me to the gates of heaven. There was a glint of appreciation in his eyes as he licked my common sense away. His eyes grew darker with every mangled whimper that left my lips. He was depleting me and I, fueling him.

“Lar–“ The remainder of his name was swallowed as his tongue began to slowly circle my clit.

As though choreographed, my every muscle tightened. An uncontainable heat lingered in the pit of my belly and my joints morphed into putty, rendering me immobile.

The ball of nerves that’d been bouncing around in my womb came to a sharp halt before exploding into a million bits.

“Please,” I wheezed as my body trembled under the pressure of my release.

Desperately I swallowed gulps of air, sure that I wouldn’t make it as aftershocks ruled my body. My being burned with a detrimental combination of relief and anticipation. I wanted to retreat and beg for more all in the same breath.

The shifting of my body loosely gripped my attention as I focused on calming my racing heart. I was in a state of bliss where everything was blurred and glazed over. Everything felt distant, except for the throb between my thighs.

The heat consuming me intensified. It grew hands and caressed me, lips and kissed me. It had a voice, a familiar one, that revealed just how much I’d been missed, how much I was loved and how much I was needed.

Fingers that gripped my thighs seconds prior were now between them, caressing, worshiping. My breathing deepened as I found myself on he brink of another orgasm.

With an inward sigh that evolved into a moan, I opened my eyes finding Larry’s face above mine. His lips that’d whispered saccharine statements where inches from mine and as though he detected my thoughts he leaned in, giving me the sweetest kiss my lips had ever known.

His fingers continued to work, bringing me to the brink yet again. His fingers were warm but they were no match for the heat brewing between my thighs. I opened my lips to warn him, to urge him to retreat but all I managed to do was sob his name as my body yet again teetered over the edge and out of my control.

Spasm after spasm ripped me apart as Larry gripped my hips, seemingly holding me together. In the distance I heard my pleas – they were thin and broken. Both he and the liquor I’d overindulged in had drained my vitality.

Larry’s body lingered over mine and before I had the chance to enjoy the weight and warmth of him, he was sliding into my heat like a hot knife through butter.

His name was jerked from my mouth due to a mixture of shock, pleasure and pain. I hadn’t even realized he’d striped himself of his clothes but I was glad he had.

The initial sting resonated as more than just a physical ache – it was emotional. I’d been without him for too long. My body was being forced to readjust to what it’d once known so well. He’d been away for eons.

He’d left me longing, craving and aching for him. The effects of his neglect was burrowed deeper than I could’ve ever imagined.

I tried to ignore it but my body refused to. It stretched, ripping stitches from unhealed wounds.

“Why you cry?” He paused, hovering over me. “I hurt you, my baby?”

“No. I— it’s been a while.” I managed, wiping at my face before pressing my palm to his cheek. “I’m okay.”

He peered down at me through narrowed eyes as I willed his concern away. He didn’t look convinced but when I tighten both my external and internal grip on him he took heed to my words.

Pleasure consumed his entire face, causing the smoke of smugness to cloud my lungs. His breaths were short and heavy. His lips were open forming a small 'o’ and his nostrils were flared. He was in his own personal heaven.

“You feel so good.” He managed, moving slightly to extract his length only to roll back into me with a spell-binding stroke.

Our moans intertwined as our gazes locked. We both possessed expressions of awe. Had it been that long that we were shocked at the feel of each other? Had we really been that deprived of pleasure?

His length nudged my center over and over, building pressure in my womb. The fit was snug and with it came a mild ache but the pleasure overruled everything.

Larry quickly turned the living room into a stage for our performance. He had me on the floor, the kitchen island and had even attempted the couch until I reminded him that the expensive piece of furniture was a no sex zone.

With my mind set on the bed that we hadn’t occupied as a couple in forever I guided him there. Only Larry was as hopeless for me as I was for him and came to a stop in the hall, several feet away from our bedroom door.

The cool wall met my back as Larry’s heat settled against my front. My hands pressed into his shoulders as his did the same to my ass – gripping, massaging, positioning.

His eyes bore into mine as his length met my weeping center and with a thrust forward we were connected. Larry hissed and I purred, digging desperate fingers into his striated arms.

My thighs clutched his hips in a warm embrace as he rolled into my core, driving me nuts. Everything about him felt so good. It was impossible.

How had I had this man so many times and still managed to be in awe?

“Tu aime ça?” (You like that) He quizzed, rearing back only to meet me with a heart churning stroke.

“Ummhmm,” I moaned as my hand moved up to his jawline, finding it strained and pulsing.

“Je vous ai manqué,” (I missed you)

His voice was crowded with pleasure. It was deeper, coarser – dark. It was enough to make my nipples harden and clit throb. And as I moaned out, I wondered if it was the nature of his voice or what he was saying that did it for me.

“Je vous ai manqué,” The repeated statement nearly made me weep.

Moving forward I pressed my lips to his neck, earning his pleasureful groan. His neck was one of his many spots and one of my favorite places to worship. My tongue followed suit and my name fell desperately from his lips.

His pleasure dizzied me. My own thirst to please him made me lightheaded. It had been too long since I’d been able to. I was not only thirsty but hungry – desperate.

Gripping his shoulders, I adjusted my weight quickly shifting control in our current position. My back moved away from the wall and my thighs hugged Larry tighter as I lifted, grinding on his length.

“Fuck,”

“Mmm.” I moaned in his ear, harboring his length between my needy flesh.

I was his personal sanctuary. I wanted him to make a home out of me and never leave. I wanted to be responsible for everything that made him smile – everything that made him whole.

“Tell me you love me.” I purred, riding him with purpose.

With my thighs burning and lungs quivering, I willed myself to slow down but the internal option do so wasn’t there. Instead I accepted the fact that I would expire while reminding my husband of exactly who he belonged to.

“I love you.” Came his gritted reply.

My hips worked faster. “You missed me?”

“You know I do.” His hands were frantically moving over whatever part of me he could reach as his face twisted in torturesome pleasure.

“You belong to me?” I moaned, unable to take my own ministrations.

“Fuck, Marlee.” His hands were at my ass, willing me to slow down. And I did but that didn’t stop the way I used my pelvic muscles to grip him, holding him hostage in decadence.

“Tell me.” I rotated my lower half, knowing my life depended on what he said next.

“I’m yours,” He hissed and his eyes crossed as I grinded. “Yours.”

The feel of his heat coating my insides took me over ten consecutive edges. I screamed and gushed and shook. And just when I thought stability was near Larry’s voice sounded.

“We not done.”

And we weren’t. By the time we made it to the bed Larry had found a powerful source of energy. It fueled him, urging him to mold my body to his liking, fucking me like only he knew how.

“You missed me?” He asked the question for the billionth time as he took my body from the back.

My breaths were short bursts, symbolizing my struggle. My arms quivered as I fought to hold my upper half up. My body was arched and melting into the mattress, adding strain to my every muscle.

I was tired but still I wanted more. I wanted it all.

“Answer!” His hand met the globe of my ass with a prickling slap.

“Yesss!” I finally gave in as my arms gave out, planting my face into the plush mattress.”I missed you so much.”

Silence filled the room and his body left mine. Too weak to move, I lay there, trying to catch every breath Larry had fucked out of me.

My hair that I’d spent way to much time curling now stuck to my neck and back in wet chunks. My makeup that I’d delicately painted on my face was now smeared all over my expensive duvet. Erin’s dress was somewhere in a ball that would make her want to choke me.

Larry had ripped me apart and left me open and I couldn’t’ve been happier.

The thought of him made me raise my head but the feel of his tongue moving up my pussy from the back made me drop it just as quick.

Curses and prayers left my lips as he dragged me closer to his face. I moaned and twisted under his oral assault. His tongue was an agile snake, writhing over my most sensitive spots. He knew exactly what I liked and did it to perfection. He deconstructed my pleasure and put it back together again.

Unable to deal with how good he was making me feel, I pistoned forward only for him to thirstily pull me right back to his waiting mouth.

“No run.” He warned upon slurping at my moist folds.

“Larry,” I whimpered as my stomach clenched.

My breathing grew erratic as his tongue teased my opening before pushing into the tight space.

“Oh god!” My back bowed, nearly folding in two.

Larry held me firmly against his face as I tried to crawl away from him. He was a sadist and he was out to end me.

“You taste so good.” He groaned, peppering kisses on the curve of my ass before licking my slit from top to bottom.

A sharp spasm of need coursed through my womb when his tongue met my clit. I was close – so close.

“I can’t get enough of you.” His whispered against my pussy.

“Please,” I begged as pleasure burned me alive.

Pressure continued to build in my womb as he bathed my clit with more attention than it could take. He stroked it, licked it, kissed it, sucked it into his sweet mouth. And with every second the needy bud begged for more and more attention.

Bliss echoed through my frame as I bucked back against his face. His tongue was both decadent and annoying. My every cell craved his mouth, every fiber praised his tongue.

My stomach ached as cramps of pleasure rippled through me only retreat under the guise of Larry’s tongue. He was teasing, bringing me to the point of nirvana only to withdraw and do it all over again. He was a maniac.

“Lar– ry,” I cried as he slid a lone finger past my folds and sucked my clit into his mouth.

“Fuuuckfuck fuck!” I wailed as the erotic embers that had been building in my womb detonated, sparking massive fire. My body shook as a tsunami of utter bliss heaved through my body. And when I couldn’t take anymore pleasure I passed out.

-

I felt like I was floating. My steps were lighter, my shoulders lacked all strain, my eyes were bright – optimistic. I felt great. For the first time in months I felt genuinely happy.

Larry was back.

It wasn’t the sex that sparked my sudden positive outlook on our marriage. It was the feeling – the energy. Nothing he could have said or done to me in the past few hours could have made me feel as good as his energy did.

I knew Larry – arguably better than myself. Majority of the time I felt him. We were in tune and always had been, until recently – the last year or so.

When we lost Laurent things changed, we didn’t feel as in tune. I felt the disconnect then, and I’m sure he felt it too.

When Luzy came into the picture, things went from bad to worse. Not only could I not connect with him but I couldn’t understand him – the things he said and did, the things he didn’t say and didn’t do. I felt like I didn’t know him, like I’d completely lost touch.

I had lost him.

But now he was back.

Just hours ago, I was sitting on Erin’s couch over-indulging in wine as thoughts of my failed marriage and tarnished relationship with my husband filled my brain. I was down and depressed and everything in between. I had no idea of what my future would look like, and that bothered me.

Now, in the wee hours of the morning, I was nearly skipping down the halls of the home I’d build with my husband, wearing nothing but the love he’d covered me in.

I chewed my lip, disrupting a smile as my mind went to how Larry and I spent the night. He’d somehow erased all the things I thought I knew about the pleasure he’d taught me. He took his time reacquainting himself with every part of me, going slow when I wanted him to go fast. He was thorough in his exploration and found delight in my pleasure. It had been too much.

In fact he was the reason I was up now. He’d depleted me of energy and now I needed to restore it. My bladder woke me up, my thoughts kept me up and my growling stomach forced me out of bed.

I hated the fact that I’d traded being tangled in my warm, expensive sheets and the lengthy limbs of my husband to pacing down the cool hall of my apartment. However, I knew I needed to eat. With nothing but liquor pooling in my belly I’d soon feel nausea creep up on me if I didn’t make any efforts to soak the poison up.

The fridge was mostly empty as I hadn’t exactly been home but I managed to find some provolone and cheddar cheese slices that I’d picked up from the deli a few days ago.

I placed both cheeses on the counter before going back for the mayo. From the cabinet, I grabbed ghee and some Texas toast that I’d bought at the same time that I bought the cheese.

A loud buzz cracked through the quiet air of the kitchen and I swiftly turned around, finding the source of the disruption to be Larry’s phone.

In my haze I’d neglected to turn on the light, as my knowledge of my kitchen and the refrigerator light had been great guides. The phone however illuminated, added a bright beam to the darkened kitchen as the alert came through.

With a quick glance I found an Instagram notification and quickly went back to forming the sandwich that would fill the void in my belly.

When my grilled cheese was constructed but not yet grilled I moved towards the cabinet for a skillet.  I shifted a few pots and pans, not finding what I needed. Sighing, I straightened my back and pulled the fridge open, hoping the light would be helpful – it wasn’t.

With a groan I paced towards the light switch only to stop when three consecutive buzzes came through Larry’s phone. And as I turned, eyeing the now illuminated device another came.

“The fuck?” I whispered, wondering why the hell his phone was so active at 5:30 in the morning.

I briefly wondered if it were someone, uncaring of the time difference, in Paris trying to reach out. That thought alone rerouted my steps and the fact that the phone buzzed yet again when I reached it prompted me to collect the sleek device from the counter.

With my sandwich and my lack of light forgotten, I eyed the lock screen finding several Instagram notifications.

“Why does he even have the notifications on?” I wondered as they continued to pour through.

Curious as to what was going on, I quickly keyed in my birthday, unlocking the device. Larry’s phone or it’s contents had never been of any interest to me but this was weird.

I could see if he’d just posted a picture or something but his phone has been inactive for the past few hours, as he was with me and his phone was here.

My eyes narrowed as the app loaded and I quickly went to his notifications. Majority was of him being tagged in things but that was the normal. My stomach growled and I kissed my teeth, ready to end my nosy ways and quell my hunger.

My finger swept over the home button only to pause and then lift when a new notification came in with my name attached.

@Ltladi3berlin: I can’t believe this! That bitch is a snake! I wonder if @itsmarleeheaux knows. @lestwinson shame on you!!!

My mouth fell open and I quickly clicked the photo corresponding with the tag. A series of iMessage screencaps consumed the screen, forcing me to narrow my eyes.

It took all over .2 seconds to figure out who the conversation was between. It took .4 for seconds to differentiate my husband’s broken English from the other messenger – Luzy.

My heart nearly pounded out of my chest as I clicked my way back to the mentions, finding a different screencap.

I chewed my lips viciously as the words carved into my flesh. I couldn’t believe what I was reading. This was a woman who Larry claimed was his good friend and she was regarding him like this – like she was his girlfriend, his mistress.

I went to another screencap. There was a ton of them. They’d had more conversations in these few thread photos than we’d had in months.

A baby, I thought unable to believe that he’d confided in her about my issues with carrying to term. He’d talked to her about our problems, my problems and she was using my shortcomings as a selling feature for herself.

“Chink,” I jumped at the light sound of his voice. I hadn’t heard him come in, then again it was hard to hear anything over the shattering of my heart.

With my face slack and lips tight I stared at him unable to believe that the man standing before me was the same one I’d fallen in love with years ago. This wasn’t the man I’d married and created a million blissful memories with. The man I was looking at right now was a stranger – a liar and a cheat. A monster. He wasn’t mine.

And I didn’t want him to be.

Unable to stomach looking in his lying face for a second longer I pressed the power button, putting the phone to sleep. The gesture successfully killed all light in the room, leaving the space in front of me seemingly black.

Despite the fact that I couldn’t see him, I could still see him. His quizzical eyes and crumpled nose. His mouth that formed and 'o’ and his barely there brows that rose to meet his hairline.

Moving forward I stopped just before him, pressing the phone into his warmth. The feel of his fingers moving over mine as he accepted the Apple device made me want to vomit.

“Get out.” I hissed, moving around him and exiting the kitchen.

He was hers now and I wished that bitch the worst of luck.

(present)

“You quiet,” Larry observed through a sigh.

“I’m fine.”

I wasn’t fine.

And he knew it.

“You not but – I’m ready whenever you ready for talk about it.”

We had talked about it, in Maldives. Larry had reluctantly told the tale of how ’his friend had betrayed him and posted things he’d told her’. Those things were about me – about us.

In Maldives I’d spared myself the details of those things. I hadn’t wanted to torture myself. What I didn’t know couldn’t hurt me – as bad.

To my dismay, my brain and faulty memory system had different plans. Torturing me with a vivid recollection of the moment Larry’s phone, enhanced with screen caps from Luzy, found itself in my grasp.

It hurt.

It hurt so bad to know that Larry had ran elsewhere to speak about me, and my shortcomings and his unhappiness. He’d ran to her and told her things he should’ve been telling me.

God, it hurt.

“I go get Millie from Roy’s. You come?”

“Nah,” I sighed, running a hand over my hair. “See you when you get back.”

-

larry.

“Can we just stay here for a few days instead of flying back home?” Her question drew my eyes away from my iPad.

“You wanna stay here – in LA?” I quizzed, shocked.

We hadn’t been home in forever, and I was sure that she missed it but she was proving me wrong.

“You not tired of hotel?” We’d done a hotel in Paris for nearly a week and then two different resorts in Malé.

“I mean,” She shrugged. “Not really. My clothes situation is off since I didn’t really pack when I was in my right mind.”

I thought about the way she’d left New York without me and rolled my eyes.

“But I can always just buy what I need.” She carried us back to the safe zone with her words.

“How long you want us to be here?” I quizzed, okay with the idea.

She shrugged. “Just a few days.”

We were only due to stay in this hotel for a few hours as we’d missed our connecting flight. And while I had slept in many airports I knew Marlee wouldn’t be down to.

“You wanna do different hotel?”

I looked around at the neutral walls and basic stock furniture. This place was close to the airport and convenient. It’s initial purpose was to give us somewhere to rest and recharge after our long and grueling flight but it was morphing into something quite different.

She looked around, eyeing the window that offered a view of the parking lot instead of the scenic LA mountainscape and then the mini fridge that held snacks that were anything but complimentary.

“This is fine.”

My brows hitched. “You sure? I want you to be comfortable.”

“I’m good, Larry. I’m not some pampered princess who needs a suite at the Beverly Wilshire.”

“You not?” I gasped with faux surprise.

She chuckled, rolling her eyes. “No.”

“Well,” I moved my iPad to the side, pressing my body to hers. “Then how you fool me and make me think that for all these years?”

Her eyes dropped and a blush consumed her cheeks. “I think you more than a princess.”

“Stop it, I’m getting turned on.” Her declaration deepened my grin.

“Then maybe I say, I think you a queen?” Laughter exploded from her lush lips.

“Stooopp,” She whined even as her eyes darkened. “I wanna go eat something.”

“I wanna eat something too.”

Her ability to leave me insatiable was no surprise. She was magical.

There was no way possible I could ever get enough of her. Her touch, her taste, the feel of her wrapped around me, her blissful facial expressions, the sounds she made…

I shifted, needing to get away from my thoughts. I too was hungry but I would starve in an effort to experience her. She would fill me up in more ways than one.

“Stop,” She breathed as she crawled across the bed and into my lap. Her warmth and weight brought instant comfort.

My hand instantly moved to her bare thigh, stroking upward. I smirked when she shifted and smiled when her flesh grew textured under my touch due to chill bumps.

The way Marlee reacted to me was one of my favorite things. I’d become a master of reading her, having dealt with years of nonverbal signs that she was aroused. Everything from the flare of her nostrils to the twitch of her thighs often told the story of what I did to her.

“Can we go to Larchmont Bungalow?” She quizzed, pulling me away from my thoughts.

I smirked. “You remembers that?”

“Yes,” Her nod was soft and her voice quiet.

“Tell me?”

“Tell you what?”

“What else you remember, Chinky?”

“I surprised you here when I found out about Laurent.” The mention of our son made me freeze. My heart ached as I recalled her flying out to personally notify me about our unborn son. My joy had propelled me to perform harder than I ever had with Monster.

“And I met Jay.” She moved on with ease. I’m not sure if she was being strong or sparing me because I was weak.

“Yesssss,” I laughed. “I think you get me fire because you act so crazy.”

“I did not!” She defended herself only it was no use. She’d nearly fainted when she met my boss’ mogul husband for the first time.

I shook my head. “You not remember right.”

“How you gonna tell me?”

“Because, girl with the broke head,” She gasped and lunged for me. “I remember better.” I easily dodged her advance.

“My head ain’t broke enough to not remember how that bird shitted on you on Hollywood Boulevard.” Her laughter closed the sentence and I peered at her, shocked.

She remembered the tiniest moments – things that could easily be written off as irrelevant. Her rediscovery of the past shun a much needed light on things I hadn’t necessarily forgotten but didn’t think of in the current times.

While there were intense shadows and some negativity, her memories were like a beacon of light. Her remembering little things and reminding me only intensified my adoration for her.

“I hate birds.” I mumbled, remembering my brand new Balmain tee that was ruined by the flying rodent.

“They hate you more.” She grinned. “You got shitted on in London too.”

Her cackles sounded and grew louder as I pushed her off of my lap and onto the soft mattress. She rolled onto her side, clutching her stomach as her laughter intensified.

“Is not funny,” I grumbled, even as I chuckled a bit.

I could remember that day like yesterday. We were young and not even dating yet when I revealed to her that London was less than three hours away via train. 

She’d assumed that because it was a different country it was super far. And my twin had no issue condescendingly informing her of the fact that European countries were not ‘stupid and big’ like American states.His rude declaration sparked an immediate argument between the two. 

After listening to Lau’s broken English and her snarky Brooklyn slang for five minutes I grew annoyed and settled things by promising Marlee to take her to the English speaking country.

The following week I did. And as I watched the girl of my dreams coo and take pictures of Big Ben I got shitted on by a malicious pigeon.

“You had on a white shirt too!” She hollered, eyeing me through eyes glazed over with tears.

“And I not have money to buy a new shirt cause I spend it all for this girl I think I like.” I expanded on the story. “Now she laugh at me so bad, I don’t know anymore.”

“If you like me?” She took a deep breath, coming down from her laughter.

My heart pounded rapidly in the confines of my chest as she wiped at her eyes, smiling at me. She was dangerous but I’d known that and still wanted everything to do with her. 

What she did to me was out of this world. She introduced me to the most intimate love. She managed to hold my attention for over ten years even with my short attention span.  

“Yeah,” I answered, distracted by her loving gaze and wide grin. “I maybe change my mind.”

“You looove me,” She sang, making her way back to my lap.

“I think maybe I don’t know.” I softly shrugged.

“Oh you know, nigga!” She playfully snapped, cradling my cheeks in her warm palms as my hands found their way back to her lush thighs.

My gaze locked on hers and my lungs nearly collapsed. Her smiling down at me with joy in her eyes and love in her heart was a sight I never wanted to erase.

She was most beautiful like this. Her face lacked all traces of makeup, her hair was wild and untamed and her skin rich in color from being freshly kissed by the sun. Her eyes were as bright as stars – she was happy, and as I peered at her I silently vowed to make her happy for the rest of my days.

I’d made the same promise before – mutely and verbally but I’d failed. I’d half-assed it and led her to despair. But I’d asked for redemption and because she loved me she granted it to me. I wouldn’t disappoint her – I couldn’t disappoint her.

I knew this was my final chance. She’d given me far too many – ones that she didn’t even remember. I knew that if I fucked up again she would leave me. She would leave me and make another man happy.

The thought burned my flesh and singed my bones. It was the concept of of a man snatching my world up from me. It was the concept of Pierre being that man that really fucked with me.

He, like me, was in total awe of Marlee. I saw it in his eyes when I caught them at Nello’s and heard it in his voice when I spoke to him months ago.

He was gone and it was understandable but completely unacceptable. Though Marlee wasn’t an object to be possessed she was mine and only mine. There was no room for Pierre in our future.

While I was sure that he wouldn’t pose a threat in the future I could admit that he had me every bit of shook when I spoke to him while Marlee was comatose.

He was far too determined to view her as only a friend. He was willing to do anything – to fight for her. It was evident. It was weaved through every word he spoke. He had a rebuttal for my every statement.  He tried to spin me in circles with his proper English. Had the situation not been a serious one I would have laughed at the insulting way he’d attempted to dumb things down to accommodate my foreign brain. He was a funny guy – very full of himself. 

I wanted to be upset as he boldly spoke to me but I realized that my lack-of had given him the bravado he possessed. My absence had left him with an immense amount of space to occupy. I’d fell off and like any other smart man he’d moved in. I understood that but I didn’t accept it – or respect it.

It was when he began speaking not only of my wife but for my wife that I got pissed. He addressed me as an outsider. He acted as though he knew Marlee better than me. He spoke of her with a confidence that made my stomach burn, and twitch, and roll. I’d struggled to hold my temper as he spoke about how miserable Marlee was – with me. And when I couldn’t take it anymore I ended the call with a gruff, 'stay away from my wife’.

Deep down I knew my warning was more of a plea – one I prayed he took heed to.

His feelings for my wife were authentic and had he expressed them to Marlee while she was vulnerable I probably wouldn’t be here with her today. I’d probably be in Paris right now, trying to gather myself post-divorce.

I nearly quivered at the thought. It was a scary one.

It was hard to imagine my future sans my wife. That didn’t seem like a future at all – not a happy one at least. The imagery reeked of misery. Marlee had been in my life for far too long – she was my life. She powered me more than music and dance ever could. She was everything and I couldn’t believe my fears had nearly led to me loosing her.

“Was wrong?” Her warm palm cupped my chin as she directed my gaze to meet hers. “You’re frowning.”

I quickly straightened my face and shrugged. “We need to get dressed.”

Having already showered not too long ago we were clad in only our underwear.

Her will to protest was written all over her face but to my fortune she nodded, stood and headed towards my suitcase.

marlee.

“Why you sound like that?”

“Like what?”

“You sad?” I quickly pondered his question, giving him an answer in the form of a head shake before I could come to an honest conclusion.

I was sad – terribly so but I would never tell him that. I didn’t want him worrying for me. I was fine – I would be fine.

“You look sad.” He pressed and I went to work, schooling my features one by one.

It was too late. He knew me too well.

He’d once told me that my voice changed when I lied – that it became more nasally. Along with that came information about how I flared my nostrils when I was annoyed and chewed my lip when I was in deep thought. He was far too in tune with me but that didn’t stop me from trying to deflect him from the truth.

“I’m tired, that’s all. Today was endless.” I huffed, praying the computer screen would create some sort of distortion to how I was really feeling.

“What you do?” I heard him shift and wondered what he was doing.

I wanted to see him but his faulty wifi connection prohibited that. Every few seconds the poor connection alert came up, leaving me with a blurred of frozen image of him.

I missed him like crazy. It had been nearly two months since I last saw him – touched him – and I hated every second of every day without him.

I was officially that chick. The one who only wanted to be up under her man all day. The one who felt more comfortable only if she knew where he was, who he was with, what he was doing. Hell, even what he was wearing.

I didn’t mind it though. Or at least that’s what I told myself. I would catch myself before it ever got to a point of ridiculousness.

I loved Larry deeply but I had goals and other priorities. My mother always stressed that love was great but it wasn’t everything. She adored Larry but knew that me being in a serious relationship at such a young age could hinder my future. She was right. At one point I’d been so over the long distance thing that I was ready to put my goals on the backburner for the sake of being closer to my man. But he wouldn’t let me. He knew that eventually resentment towards him would blossom in my heart and he didn’t want that.

Hell, I didn’t want that.

Times like this were hard but ultimately we were working to be at a point where we could settle down comfortably together.

“Um,” I chewed my lip, running today’s events through my mind. “I assisted on a Givenchy shoot and visual project. I was there for 15 hours.”

“Damn,” He murmured. “You love it?”

I smiled at the question. “The photography aspect, yeah. The filming was way too fucking repetitive for me. It was a lot. I had fun though.”

His brows furrowed. “You not gonna say details?”

“You care about the details?” I asked through a half smile.

He nodded. “Of course.”

And I went on, rambling about the amazing cameras that were worth more than my yearly income and the lighting tricks I’d learned. He listened, adding a sound in here or there. He laughed when I revealed how a model had tripped over her own feet after doing a twirling take for the millionth time. And his eyes grew narrow with concern when I mentioned that I’d spilled coffee on my hand.

“I was so scared while getting the cameras together. I didn’t want to fuck anything up.”

Confusion consumed his face. “How you can do that?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know – put it on the wrong setting or drop the shit.”

“You can never think like that, Chink. You good and you know you kill this shit and even if you scared you go in and fake it and then make it!” His words tugged a smile to my face.

“I don’t know why I sike myself out. I just – can’t believe I’m here. It was such a hard position to get–“

He cut me off. “And you get it cause you deserve and you talented.”

“I was just so shocked because – I don’t know they’ve kinda been treating me like shit,” A frown instantly appeared on his face. “I mean, it’s whats to be expected when interning. The whole time I’ve been here I’ve been the glorified coffee girl. Most times I’m not even able to stand still long enough to watch the work that transpires because I get dragged back and forth a lot.”

I sighed, thinking of the long days that led to limited sleep. I’d come 'home’ to my raggedy hotel with throbbing feet, a pounding head and an aching stomach. Well, it was either aching or empty. Aching because I was so broke that couldn’t exactly afford nutritious food so I ate junk all day, including the leftover sweets from set – never the salad or sandwiches because that stuff was for the real crew. Or empty because, well, I was broke.

I never told Larry any of this. I didn’t want him to worry for me. I was fine – I would be fine. This would be all over in a month or so and I’d leave with a check for the lump sum of my work and great experience – in fetching other folks coffee.

“Half the time I don’t know whether this internship was created to mold an aspiring photographer or to find a fucking barista.” I went on and his frown deepened. “I went in today, knowing I’d have to deal with more of the same and I did but in addition to taking coffee orders I also got to actually touch the cameras and chat with the photographers.” I beamed and a smile crept to his face as well.

“You take picture?”

“Well, no – not for the campaign but I took a lot of test shots to make sure that the lighting and settings were perfect.”

His brows rose as he quizzically peered at me. “That make you happy?”

“It did.” I nodded.

“Then that make me happy.” His declaration widened my smile.

Larry didn’t completely understand all things photography and what it took to break big in the industry but he understood my passion. 

Him being a dancer made his art very tangible. People saw what he could do and reacted. Larry’s skills weren’t based on technical and traditional elements. They weren’t honed in a school. He simply possessed them, and then displayed then, wowing everyone.

Photography was different. It was subjective and even with the proper education many talented artists were still overlooked. And that’s exactly why I was busting my ass as a coffee girl for privileged white folks. I refused to be ignored, to have my work ignored… even if that meant starting at the very bottom.

“I’m still so shocked they asked me, babe! I’ve literally been doing bullshit for weeks! I’ve been the errand girl and finally I got to touch a camera and you wouldn’t believe who approached me and asked me.” I rambled, re-experiencing the same excitement I’d felt earlier.

“Who?” A small smirk tilted his lips as his eyes illuminated with interest.

“Georgia, fucking Steven Klein’s assistant!” I still couldn’t believe it. I mean he was no Patrick Demarchilier or Ellen von Unwerth but he was brilliant with the camera and very successful.

“Wait my baby. I call you back.” Larry spoke quickly, forcing my smile and my excitement to drop.

“Okay.” I murmured sullenly. “Love you.” The call ended, leaving me without a response and an attitude.

With a sigh, I stood from the not so comfortable bed and paced towards the TV stand. My stomach was empty and the only thing I could afford to fill it with was left over donuts from set today. I’d also managed to nab a few bananas and an apple but I was saving those it for tomorrow. 

I was off for the next two days and knew my meals with consist of the finest cuisine from the 7/11 across the street. I needed the fruits to balance out the trash I was bound to consume from the popular chain.

Using the rinky dink microwave, I warmed the Krispy Kream donut for a few seconds before extracting it and taking a huge bite.

It was as I was moving to my second donut that a knock at the door sounded. Annoyed that the cleaning lady was bothering me yet again, despite the fact that I told her I was fine, I moved towards the door.

I pulled the door open, ready and willing to accept the towels, cheap soap and peppermint candy she was bound to offer.

This was our routine. She’d come by at least two or three times, offering things that I already had, I’d refuse, tell her I was fine and she’d go on her way only to come right back. It always took me accepting her gesture to insure that she wouldn’t come back. She was sweet and clearly very nurturing, and usually I would laugh at her antics but tonight wasn’t the night.

However what I got when I opened the door wasn’t a short Mexican lady but a tall French nigga. My eyes widened as he leaned down peppering my lips with kisses.

“I love you too,” He murmured, pulling me into his arms. “Now finish telling me about George and Steve.”

“Why you smiling? What you think of?” He quizzed as I lowered the menu.

“You nosy.” He shrugged and looked at me expectantly, waiting for an answer.

“Stop staring, nigga.”

“Tell me why you smile,” He pressed.

“Has anyone ever told you how annoying you are.”

“All the time.” He shrugged. “I’m waiting.”

With an explosive sigh I crossed my eyes, earning his chuckle. “I remembered when you surprised me here in LA while I was doing that internship at Smashbox Studios.”

The mere mention of the memory brought a wide smile to my face.

After I got over the initial shock of him being there I finished the story of my day. I was sure he was bored and went to move on to the next topic when he declared that he was proud of me. To my surprise, and his, the simple statement brought tears to my eyes. It meant more than I could ever explain hearing that from him – my man.

There I was broke, eating crappy but free food in a half star hotel, in a city where I knew no one and doing an internship that forced me to wait until after completion to be paid. My two hour rides to the studio were by bus, and then train and because everyone drove in LA the public transportation system was severely slower than New York. On top of all that I wasn’t exactly sure if anything would even come from the internship.

I had been miserable but forced myself to remain positive and optimistic. But it was difficult, especially knowing that I could have been back in the comfort of Brooklyn, working and getting immediate money.

Knowing that my man, who I missed dearly, was out there killing it and living his dreams drew me even deeper into depression. Thoughts of him being successful and me failing often plagued my brain, forcing negativity into my lungs. But hearing him say that he was proud of me made everything seem a little bit more worth it.

I could remember so many nights laying on that springy mattress, questioning what the fuck I was doing.  I could remember missing my mom more than anything. That internship had been a big decision – it had the power to make or break my career and I’d done it without her guidance. That was the first real time since she’d died that I truly felt alone.

Those nights where my stomach was growling and feet were throbbing were my some of my loneliest – second only to the nights where I’d clutched my recently vacated belly or imagined the synchronized laughter of Larry and Luzy.

Larry hadn’t been pleased with the hotel, mainly because it was raggedy but also because it was so far away from where I needed to be. He was also pissed about the state of my bank account. He’d gone on and on complaining about me neglecting to tell him the truth. He’d not only been upset but hurt that I didn’t trust him to take care of me.

It had been my tears and whining about going home to Brooklyn that forced him to ease off me but his silence only led to actual moves being made.

My emotional state led to exhaustion, forcing me into a long nap. When I’d woken up it was to a determined Larry packing my bags. In not so many words he let me know that he’d been able to sublet me an apartment closer to Smashbox studios. He left no room for my questions and urged me to get ready so that we could head over. 

The apartment was cozy but open. Sun light drenched the space, making me feel better instantly. It was just what I had been needing.

We didn’t stay for long because soon we were heading to the grocery store to get real food. I’d stocked up on produce and surprised Larry by grabbing mostly green shit to end my undernourishment.

The last stop we’d made had been enough to end my silence. As soon as he pulled the rental car into the bank I began to fuss. We’d argued back and forth for like a half hour before he finally grabbed my purse and exited the car.

The alert that came through my phone minutes later fueled my anger. I stared at the deposit amount in disbelief and said nothing when he got back into the car.

We didn’t speak until that following morning. He had a ton to say about how stubborn and unwilling I was to accept help and to his surprise I agreed, and then cried.

I’d only ever depended on one person to do things for me and that had been my mom. I didn’t know how to accept things from other people though I loved giving. I’d give Larry my left kidney but if he offered me a pint of blood I’d refuse it and claim that it was too much.

The conversation we had was exhausting but I’d promised him that I’d work harder on being as accepting of his help as he was of mine.

The sex we had was even more exhausting and to refuel we’d come here, to the very restaurant we sat in now, Larchmount Bungalow.

“I don’t remember.” He muttered with narrowed eyes.

I gasped. “How don’t you remember?!”

He shrugged as his gaze drifted towards the sky. “I just not.” Was his response. “Tell me what happened?”

“Um,” I paused, chewing my lip as I combed through the details of my recent recollection. “I was staying in some rinky dink hotel in El Segundo and I was superrrr broke.”

“How old we was?” His face scrunched with the most authentic form of confusion.“

"Like, 20…21.” I answered with ease.

“Ooooh yes! I know now. You lie to me and say you good but you eat noodle cups and donuts.” His eyes narrowed accusingly.

“I didn’t want you to worry about me. I would have survived had you not come to save the day, Larry.”

“I always worry for you.” His words weren’t meant to be endearing but they made my heart stutter.

Not knowing exactly how to respond or what to say, I offer a small smile.

“You guys all set?” The perky waiter asked, lingering over the polished wooden table.

“Oh,” I glanced down at my menu. “I’m not quite ready.”

“We ready.” Larry told the waiter, barely sparing me a glance. She do the Red & Blue Velvet Pancakes with extra whip cream and for me,” He hummed, briefly glancing at the menu. “I try the Seafood Breakfast Crepe with half order of Strawberry Tequila French Toast.”

The waiter smiled, collecting both menus. “Will that be all?”

A head nod from Larry sent him on his way and when he was out of ear shot, I cleared my throat forcing my husband to look at me.

“What if I wanted to try something new – different?” He smirked.

“You love the same thing always. I know this.” He was sure. His voice reeked of arrogance.

“I was looking at the LB French Toast.” I told him with an eye roll. I wanted to prove him wrong for the simple fact that he was so stuck on telling me about me.

His face scrunched. “You don’t even like chocolate.”

The saccharine breakfast entree was composed of plantains, Nutella and hazelnuts. “I was gonna get it without.”

“Why you can’t let me be right?” He smiled, knowing I was full of shit.

“Cause,” His brows rose in question. “You think you know everything.”

“About you I do.”

“You only know what I tell you.” I swore. “What I want you to know.”

“I know many shit you don’t even know.” His declaration brought a frown to my face and he instantly exploded with laughter.

“Shut the fuck up.” I murmured before sipping my water.

He was right but at this point I didn’t want to know any of what I didn’t already know. We’d been through too much. I’d experience too many emotions and my feelings were beyond mixed.

I was happy where I was right now with Larry and didn’t want a piece of the past to hinder that. I was accepting of our past and excited for the future but at the same time fear lingered at the root of my every exhale. 

What if I remembered something I couldn’t accept, something that wasn’t as easy to forgive?

I’d imagined all sorts of scenarios. I’d put together all these could'ves and shouldn’t'ves and fished out the ones that would hurt me the most, forcing me to walk away. 

My own imagination drove me to tears weeks ago when I mentally painted a picture of Larry impregnating Luzy.

In addition to killing our marriage something like that happening would have ultimately killed me. But Larry said he hadn’t physically cheated and I believed him – I did.

However, the weight of his emotional cheating left my muscles aching. And while he didn’t create a child with that bitch, he’d created a bond that gave birth to my insecurities, and my heartache.

I cleared my throat attempting to clear my thoughts.

“Stop think so much.” Larry spoke knowingly. He eyed me over the glass as he causally sipped his orange juice.

“I’m trying.” A nod was all I received, as there was nothing much to say.

A comfortable silence consumed us as we waited for our food. When it I arrived I happily dug in, moaning in delight. Larry had been right – this was the only thing on the menu that I wanted. He wore a knowing smirk but said nothing as he enjoyed his own food.

Halfway through my meal I grew bored and reached over, taking some of his.

“I don’t taste the tequila.” I observed chewing slowly on the mango dressed french toast.

“They cook it down so you not can taste.” He chuckled. “Is not for you get drunk. It leave slight flavor… sweetness.”

“Mmmhp.” I replied, unimpressed only for him to laugh.

“You wanna drink – we can go to bar at The W.”

“You just wanna get me drunk and take advantage.” I smirked, already down for the idea. It’d been so long since I’d had a nice cocktail.

“I do.” He confirmed and instead of laughing I shivered.

“Should I order a mimosa now orrrr…?” Our cackles loomed around us only to be cut short by the perky waiter who approached.

“Larry,” I called when we were to ourselves again.

“Hmm?” He quizzed, his mouth full.

“Where’s Millie?” The question had been on my mind for a while but I’d been too ashamed to ask.

In my haste to get away from my husband I’d left my dog without a care. I was the worst dog mom ever!

He chuckled, before swallowing his food and taking a sip of water. “I wonder when you ask. She with her uncle Roy.”

The name made me frown and because he’d probably predicted my distaste he laughed.

“That dusty nigga ain’t her damn uncle.” I snapped, annoyed.

Moving my food around with the tip of my fork I sighed. “Maybe we should go home. I need to get to her and– “

“Chink, she fine.” Larry swore, “Roy take care of her good. He do before.”

“I don’t like him.” I said what I was already known.

“You not even know why.” Larry was unbothered. In fact, a small smile played around his lips. This was a topic that brought him no stress. Knowing that eased my mind a bit but not much.

“Because,” I shrugged.

“You can’t even say a reason.”

“He’s a terrible influence.” I muttered.

“For me?” Larry’s eyes widened and smile dropped. My nod was minimal but it was enough to make him frown. “Baby, I’m a grown man. Every bad decision I do is because of me, never him. I stupid on my own.”

Him admitting that shocked the fuck out of me. Larry almost never admitted to his faults unless you pulled them out of him and even then he resisted.

“Well,” I plucked a chunk of mango off his plate, still searching for the tequila component. “You were one stupid ass nigga.

-

note: the song guys... listen to the song.

marlee.

"Larry, I would never cheat on you,"

If I had to hold my breath for the amount of time it took my beloved to drag his eyes to me I would've passed out.

When his gaze met mine my spine liquefied. His blinks were slow and my heart rate was fast. My nerves had managed to grip the very best of me, leaving me every bit of unstable.

I inwardly cursed myself for being so impulsive. My ability to morph into a sufferer of turrets when my emotions were high always amazed me, and left me less than unimpressed with myself.

Subjects like this deserved time and deep thought. They were needy and best handled with great caution and deep consideration.

Yet somehow I managed to do the exact opposite, fumbling the delicate topic and eventually dropping it out into the open with no finesse.

“I don't know everything – there's so many gaps that are missing but I know that I would never do that to you.” I rambled on, thickening the air with every syllable.

He said nothing. He sat and watched me with an expression that was meant to boggle my mind. He didn't move or blink. His shoulders didn't rise and fall, indicating that he was breathing. He sat and watched me. He tortured me.

I wanted to say more but I didn't have more to say. I had absolutely no evidence to back my words up. Only my gut feeling.

I was trying to put together a complex puzzle and sadly I was missing a plethora of pieces. I didn't even have the luxury of saying I had the frame done because even that was ugly with gaps.

“Baby?” The pet name on my lips dragged his eyes down towards his lap.

“I know.” He finally spoke.

“You do?” I hated how shocked I sounded, and felt.

My surprise spoke volumes about my confidence. I knew I hadn't stepped out on my husband. However, I was sure that convincing him of that would be a fight to the death. I was sure I'd sputter my last bits of oxygen doing so.

He left my question floating unattended in the air, opting to pinch the material of his jeans instead of answering. I wanted to press him but my mind screamed for me to be patient.

“Tiffany, why the fuck would you tell Larry where I was last night?!” My breath reeked of anger. My skin was irritated from her betrayal.

“Hello to you too.” She mumbled, pulling her coat off as she moved across the space that was usually filled with our laughter, work jargon and random chatter. Our friendship was carved into the walls. However, her actions last night had distorted the imagery.

“Why would you do that?!” I snapped, needing an answer.

She'd managed to cause so much trouble and it all could've been avoided.

“Do what? Tell your husband, who was repeatedly calling me, where you were?” She shrugged, feigning innocence. Her carelessness annoyed me.

“Look – don't fuck with me, Tiffany. The last thing I need is your sarcasm.” I gritted, facing her, watching as her expression remained slack. “Why the fuck were you on some malicious shit?”

“The last thing I want to project towards you is malice.” Her voice was even.

“Then why the fuck would you tell him where I was?!” My esophagus burned under the flow of my screech. I could feel the scorched flesh melting into a pool of anguish in my belly.

“Look,” She shook her head and picked up the coat she'd just peeled off her frame. “I'm gonna go because you yelling at me like this – it's not cool.”

Her slanted eyes broadcasted her frustrations but I didn't care. She didn't have the right to be frustrated – she'd managed to fuck all my shit up with a phone call.

I knew that ultimately I was the one to blame. I was the key character. It was I who made the decision to go out with Pierre and I  who didn't make it crystal clear that all possibilities of an us were null and void, even though I thought me being a married woman stated that loud and clear. It was I who had left my phone on silent, leaving Larry's calls unanswered, forcing him to reach out to my trusty assistant for my whereabouts. It was I who seemed sneaky. It was my body that was barely covered, and in latex leading my beloved to jump to every conclusion.

It was all me. I jumped over blurred lines and painted with far too much gray. I understood that.

But Tiffany played a pivotal role in the shit too.

I watched angrily as she dressed herself in her coat, adjusting her long black ponytail so that it fell down her back. Her gaze then came to me. Her eyes held peace and her lips were stuffed to the brim with all she wanted to say. However, she wasn't like Erin who would say whatever, whenever. Tiffany was mild and needed to be provoked, she needed to be egged on. And though I wanted an answer from her, a plausible one that would make her betrayal more acceptable, I didn't want to argue. I was so tired of arguing and being angry and sad.

I needed at least one relationship in my life to be easy. At least one that didn't bring me strain. Before last night, Pierre had been that person. He was an escape. He was the one person who beckoned ease but I couldn't even find it in myself to answer his calls.

“Don't even come back.” I gave her my back as I glanced down at my phone. The very phone I'd called Larry a thousand times on. The very phone that had yet to ring, displaying his name across the screen.

Her humorless laughter pulled my glare over my shoulder. “You're firing me because you feel guilty about me telling your husband where you were while you were having a casual dinner with another man?!”

“I'm not guilty about shit.” The lie made her laugh harder.

“Sure.” She chuckled. “It was amazing working with you Marlee. I think you're an amazing photographer and an even better friend. I wish you the best of luck with your and yours...”

Her exit was so graceful it made my head spin. I felt more out of control than ever. I was half past furious, burning with rage, and she had the audacity to get fired with grace – and then compliment me. The nerve of this bitch.

“Whatever.” I muttered, desperate to match her careless disposition. I couldn't have her seeing me off my square. “Bye.”

“And for the record, I would never do anything to purposefully hurt you. Because you told me the dinner was casual, I assumed it would be fine to tell Larry your whereabouts – as I've done plenty times before when he couldn't get a hold of you.” Her truth lodged itself in my throat. “The difference now is that you and Pierre are anything but casual.”

-

“You look pretty,” He eyed me with a heat that hadn't warmed me in months. “You got date with you boyfriend?”

Larry's inability to let go was eroding my patience with him. He and I were in the darkest ditch we'd ever known and he wanted to focus on one incident in the past.

It had been well over a month since Larry strolled into Nello's, finding me dining with Pierre. I'd come home that night only to find him gone. It was later revealed by Lau that he'd flown to Paris – placing an entire ocean between us.

I'd tried endlessly to reach him and even contemplated following him out to France. My only concern had been Maman catching wind of our foolishness. However, my desire to make things right overpowered my concern with my mom's feelings and I bought a ticket.

It wasn't until I arrived that I learned that Larry was no longer in Paris but in London – where Luzy lived.

That flight home was the longest and most devastating ride of my life. I'd cried enough tears to rival the ocean we were flying over. And when my tears left my body dehydrated and depleted, I took to poisoning my brain with thoughts of what my future could look like.

Me, alone.

Larry, with Luzy.

Her, pregnant with the child I couldn't bear.

It took two whole weeks for Larry to appear again, and with his presence came no apology or excuse – only attitude. He gave me the coldest shoulder, leaving my every cell glaciated.

His frostbite left me hopeless but not desperate. I refused to press him, I asked no questions. I simply existed, remaining as cordial as I could be.

And I'd been doing that for a month now. But he was on my nerves – in fact, he'd exhausted them. I didn't have it in me to explain any more. My fight was gone and so was my fire.

I fingered my hair, forcing volume into the wanded strands. I wanted to be pretty tonight because I'd spent so much time feeling ugly, and unwanted.

I only wanted one man but his neglect left me with the need to be desired by many.

He eyed my bare torso with a glacial smirk. “I know you only dress like this for him.”

“I'm meeting Erin for dinner.” I muttered, not in the mood to argue with him. “Its her birthday.”

“You boyfriend be there?”

I huffed, dropping my hands from my hair. “No, Larry.” Correcting him was pointless. “Would you like to join me?” Though the question was posed sarcastically there was hope in my heart.

I was proficient at wanting Larry, needing him. It was hard not to. I'd been consistent for years when it came to my yearning for him and seeing that my supply remained stocked. For many years there had been a surplus of his love, leaving me overwhelmed and endlessly happy. Now there was a shortage, resulting in soul crippling famine.

“Nope.”

I chewed my lip and bit  my tongue, willing myself to remain cool, calm and collected. I cloaked myself in a facade of unbotheredness. I painted lies on my skin in an effort to match his lack of care. But unlike him I was human – not a monster.

Unable to not react, I sucked in a huge breath before speaking. “I can't even believe how you being right now?!”

His features refused to shift, leaving his expression blank. “How I should be?”

“He's my friend – that's it. I've said it a million times!”

“You tell me how you be if you come in and see me on a date with some girl? – that I say just my friend.”

“Fuck you mean,” I screeched, losing all that I'd tried to hang on to. “Does the name Luzy not sound fucking familiar to you?!”

“She my friend.” He insisted.

“Right. She's your friend that you just so happen to see more than me. You're in her every picture on Instagram. Y'all have done vacations together. And let us not forget that amazing ring she bought you.” I eyed the designer ring with disgust. “Never have any of my fucking friends given me something that nice.”

“You go to her Instagram?” It didn't surprise me that that was his takeaway.

“Sure the fuck did.” I harbored no shame. I knew that girl's IG better than she did.

He shook his head. “Now you act crazy.”

To paste validity to his statement, I laughed. It was a maniacal laugh that left my throat burning. “I'm crazy?”

“You not can hear me good?” I nearly slapped him in his non-english speaking mouth.

I stared at him unable to believe that we'd morphed into this. After years of infrangible love we were standing before each other, arguing about who possessed the most inappropriate friendship with the opposite sex.

It was a showdown that neither of us would win because both our hands were bound with guilt.

I knew my husband down to his every pore. He would never admit it but he knew what he had going on with Luzy was inappropriate. It showed in how he avoided the topic of her – how he evaded.

I didn't like Roy, and I'd damn near purchased advertisement rights in Time Square to make it known but Larry didn't care because that was his friend. He defended Roy, he defended their friendship. He hid Luzy and that was the difference.

If Luzy had just been a friend that I didn't like, Larry would have preached about her qualities and how ridiculous I was being but he didn't. Instead he avoided the topic of her like a person who cherished walking avoided landmines. He couldn't talk about her because the differences in the way he defended Roy as compared to how he defended her would show his truth.

My guilt with Pierre resided in how he felt about me. Him liking me should have been grounds for me to dismantle our friendship but instead I acted selfishly, absorbing the attention and male energy.

Wordlessly I stared at him, wondering what it was about her that made him want to risk it all. He knew I was unhappy yet he did nothing to change that. And everything about that scenario boggled my mind. Larry used to live to make me happy. But now it seemed he was living to make her happy.

Was her conversation better? Did he think she was more worldly? Did she stimulate him more? Did they have more in common?

Was she prettier? Had her European features proven to be more appealing than my 'exotic' ones? Did he prefer her slimmer body and fake boobs? Was my soft curves no longer good enough?

Was she more accommodating than me? Did she complain less? Do more? Did she compromise?

Was her pussy as bomb as mine? Better? Did she know what he craved? How he liked to be touched, sucked, licked? Was she more passionate? Bolder in the bedroom?

Was the concept of a future with her seemingly more rewarding? Did she want kids?  Was her body equipped to carry a healthy child to term? Was that fact alone enough to make Larry jump ship?

I'd mastered the art of self-depreciation. I was more insecure than I ever imagined I could be. The shadow of Luzy looming over me had blocked my usual stream of confidence.

I was a connoisseur of making assumptions and filling in blank spaces because ultimately I had no choice. Larry refused to communicate, leaving me with no choice but to jump to every conclusion possible.

maybe I am just not enough...

“I'm gonna go.” I sighed. I couldn't argue with him tonight.

His mouth fell open and I silently begged him to speak, to protest. I needed a sign. I needed to know that he still cared – that he still wanted, and loved me.

I would gladly miss out on tonight with Erin to work on things with Larry. She'd be pissed but she'd get over it.

I wanted to be shocked by my desperation – repulsed, ashamed – but I wasn't. Not even a little bit. Me and Larry had gone through too much and come too far for me to go out without a fight – even if it were merely internal.

What he and I had was real. It was otherworldly. It was magic – we just needed to get it back.

My eyes were wide as I watched him, waited for him, willed him to fight for me. My heart was racing and my hands were quivering.

I wondered if he saw my desperation, if he tasted it in the air. It was thick and heady – pungent but I didn't care. It was warranted.

“Have fun.” He grumbled before turning and heading to the bathroom.

-

“Are you gonna have time to squeeze me in tomorrow? I really need my hair done before I fly out?”

“Yeah,” She quickly moved her hand over the huge top knot that my hair had been confined in for far too long. “You need me.”

“Shut up.” I slapped her hand away. “I've been – busy.”

“Mmmhmm,”

“I have!”

“You still have to take care of yourself, Marlee.” She lectured in a calm voice. “You look good you feel good, ya know?”

“Yeah,” I sighed.

I looked like shit and I felt like shit too.

“You excited about the conference?” She quizzed, changing the subject and I was more than surprised.

Erin lived to lecture me. She lived to debate and argue. She lived to be right. Her making a statement and then moving on from it was unheard of. She never did that. However, I was grateful that she'd chosen today to do so.

“I'm really excited. It's always good meeting people in my field, and I could use a little vacay.”

“How many days will you be gone?”

“Four. The conference is three days but I tacked on an extra day for me to actually do things.”

“That's good. Is Larry going?”

“Nah.”

“Hmmp.” I willed her not partner words with the judgmental sound.

I knew she had something to say – she always did. She had more of an opinion about me and Larry than I did.

I'd never kept secrets from my best friend in the past but nowadays I guarded the details of my life from her as though I was the secret service. I didn't need her judgment and itoldyouso's. I needed support and I knew she couldn't offer that alone so I dealt with my own dealings.

“Wait,” I paused in front of a Soho boutique geared towards active women. “I need to go in here.”

She glanced at the window, finding yoga mats and sporty mannequins and frowned. “Eww, why?”

“Just come on.” I grabbed her wrist, pulling her into the store.

“Hi ladies, anything I can help you find?” The slim associate greeted.

“Just browsing, thanks.” I smiled before, moving towards one of the racks housing sports bras.

“I need to bras – the ones I have don't offer enough support.” I spoke to Erin, who followed close behind me.

“Mmm.” The sound made me roll my eyes. And this time she had words to go with it. “I still can't believe ya ass be running. That's why ya hair looks like that. Black people don't be running and shit.” She chuckled at her own rude remarks.

“Majority of the fastest runners in the word are black, Erin. You sound stupid.” I fingered a bra, observing the straps and then the cups.

“Okay but they're athletes. You–“ She cackled. “I'on know, you just be on some other shit.”

“What are you even talking about?” My whisper was harsh as I whirled around, facing her.

The store was small, too small. I didn't want to draw any attention to myself but as usual Erin was on my nerves.

“You be on that white people shit. First the couples therapy, now its running – whats next? You gon start playing rugby too?”

“I just like to run, Erin.” I sighed. “I don't like taking my prescription, and this helps me so that I don't have to.”

Her face went slack. “I'm sorry.”

“Whatever.” I headed towards the door. “I'll get the shit I need some other time.”

-

“At what point did you make that decision?” I quizzed angrily.

The memory of Larry treating me like shit burned the cavity that guarded my heart but instead of feeling pain, I felt anger.

Fury.

His stare was wide-eyed. “I don't know wh–—“

I cut him off without care. “When did you decide that you wanted to believe me when I said Pierre was just my friend, and that I didn't cheat?”

He had me so fucked up, and frankly I was mad that I hadn't behaved differently during the time he was being an asshole. I was peeved that I hadn't spoken up more, defended myself harder, read him for being the trash ass nigga that he was.

I was angry now because I wasn't angry enough then. I was desperate and scared back then, and now I was just pissed.

“Chink, I–—“ He huffed, clamping his eyes shut. “It kill me every time for you to remember stuff because I know I do wrong. So many times I wasn't right and I not do you right and I'm sorry. I wish I can make you not remember how stupid I was.”  He was ashamed and he had every right to be. He had been terrible.

“You were fucking stupid.” I hissed.

“I'm sorry.” He quickly apologized but I didn't want his apology. I wanted a do-over. I wanted to go back in time and be the strong, confident woman that I knew I was – not the weak, broken one Larry had made me to be.

“For months you treated me like shit – even before you walked in on me dining with Pierre.” The mention of that night deepened his scowl. “You were neglecting me long before that. And I blamed myself, Larry.”

“I–—“

“I'm talking!” I snapped. “I blamed myself, thinking you didn't want to be around me because I'd lost the babies. Then that drove me into a deep depression so I figured you didn't want to be around me because I was taking crazy pills. Then when I finally felt fucking stable and somewhat happy you weren't there because you were busy with Roy and your career and Luzy and whatever else that wasn't me.”

His eyes dropped but he forced them up. He forced himself to match my stare, and I knew that was difficult for him to do.

“I remember feeling alone and unwanted – broken.” I saw his will to speak, to apologize. “I don't think I've ever felt so low.”

“Marlee, I wish I can go back and make better decisions. I really do – I fuck up so much but I never hurt you again. I swear on my life.”

His words went over my head. “I know this is gonna kill me but,” I sighed inwardly. “Why was she so important to you? Why was she worth it? Why was she better?” The last word died on my tongue and I was sure it was so terribly distorted that he didn't understand it.

He held my stare for what seemed like forever. I could nearly see the cogs in his head turning. He was either thinking of a damn good answer of a way to get out of answering.

A large portion of me prayed for the latter. I wanted him to finesse his way out of this one because the truth would crush me. The other portion willed me to grow up and stiffen my spine. That portion reminded me that tough conversations like this were necessary for Larry and I to move on and be happy.

"She remind me of you." He fingered his hair, finally speaking..

"It's so cruel of you to tell me that, Larry." I tried to renege. This was too much.

"I not want to hurt you but I want to be honest. I can leave out many things but where that get us, huh?" His eyes were wide as he watched me. "In the past all I do is leave out things. I leave out everything until nothing become the truth."

"Lying by omission." I muttered, wishing I could prepare myself for the way this conversation would burn.

"Exactly." Him knowing what the phrase meant nearly made me smile. "I don't want to do that no more."

His brows knitted in determination. There was no cajoling him. He would serve it black or white or he wouldn't serve it at all.

"Go on." I managed to breathe.

His eyes traced over my face for several seconds before his mouth began to move again. "Is funny how you hate her and so many things about her like you."

"I didn't hate her. I hated you." I wanted that to be clear. She had never wronged me – he did.

Silence took the room hostage as Larry worked to pick himself up after my declaration had knocked him down.

"I know." He finally murmured, sighing.

"Did you love her?" The question drained my vitality, leaving me dry as a bone.

"No." He answered immediately. His voice was even and confident but it didn't necessarily make me feel at ease.

"You the only woman I ever love – the only one I ever want to love. No one – not Luzy, not nobody – ever have my heart. Only you, Marlee." His eyes searched mine, willing me to believe him.

"I never in my life cheat on you." He added, hoping to ease my busy mind.

"Not physically," I rasped, surprised the words managed to make in through the barren habitat that was my mouth.

"Wha?”

I swallowed, silently configuring the correct words. I didn't want there to be any space for confusion. "I think emotional cheating is worse than you actually going out and fucking someone."

He said nothing, and I took his silence as him agreeing.

I wondered if he knew that he'd been using her as a source. He'd been taking from her what he used to take from me – what he vowed to only take from me. I wondered if he knew back then how detrimental his friendship would be. Did he know it would play a huge part in the shambles we were currently in? Did he know it would break me, leaving me beyond repair?

"She had you, Larry. And you were into her and for so long she had access to you in ways that I didn't. You let her in and locked me out."

My eyes were wet with tears that I didn't want to shed. Crying had become a hobby that was anything but fun.

"At the time—" He paused, swallowing. His throat bobbed and eyes drifted. "She was just easier."

The admission stung.

"She remind me so much of you when we were happy. It was like a flashback. And at the time that she come around we were so–—" He was searching for the word to describe our depleted marriage. "You sad always and I was too but I never admit. I ignore how I feel and think I need to be strong for you but then my pain get to be too much and maybe I resent you for not take care of me like I take care of you." The last part was rushed but I heard it loud and clear.

I whimpered as his words struck my soul with violent blows.

Had my own selfishness and neediness been the core of my failed marriage? The thought left me without breath.

"I-I di—" He shook his head, cutting me off.

"Please my baby, don't think I say you to blame for anything. I think you act how any woman in your position would. I just– maybe is my fault for never say to you how I feel, for think I'm superhuman." "I hide from your pain because it make mine more stronger. I was scared of so many things, Chink." He huffed a sigh.

"Like what?"

"Scared for you never get better, that we never have babies, that us marriage fail – that scare me so bad that I run from it. I spend more time around Roy, and Luzy. I tell Lau we need to take more work, which make us more busy."

He shook his head as he reflected on his poor decisions. "I do all this, leave you when you need me most and that push you straight to another man.”

Pierre's face floated through my thoughts. I heard the laughter he prompted, felt the warmth he beckoned. I saw my smiles and felt the tingles of my blushing cheeks. I could recall the excitement that would make my bones tingle when he was near. And I remembered always thinking of Larry when he was in my presence.

“You didn't push me to him.” He looked unconvinced. “Honestly–“ I paused, running my tongue over my teeth. “I think back then I was so insecure that I would have taken a male compliment – or attention from anyone.”

The admission left me feeling exposed and mildly ashamed. I was embarrassed that as a woman I'd craved male attention so badly. I'd always hated those women who were motivated by men and I'd become one of them.

I feasted on Pierre's compliments and lengthy stares and used them to spackle the space that Larry's inattentiveness had left gaping.

“I know how terrible that sounds.” I murmured.

“I talk to him.” The words spewed out of his mouth like vomit.

“What?” It was my turn to be shocked. “Pierre?” He nodded. “When?”

“Mmm, when you in hospital – when I call everybody.” I digested his words, willing my heart to slow down.

“And?” I needed to know every detail.

“He call you a lot – it get me pissed.” His eyes were narrowed, and his jaw tense. “He send text and leave message beg you to talk to him. He say he sorry for everything he say about me, about us.”

I blinked shocked. This was a part of my past that I hadn't remembered just yet. But I didn't tell Larry. I didn't want him to hold back.

“First I feel bad for listen to your shit but then I not care.” He shrugged to prove his statement.

“How did you talk to him?” I breathed.

“I call him like I do for everyone else you talk to. He pick up and thinks its you. He say how he miss you and how he sorry.” His frown deepened. “Then I tell him you lose your memory in a accident, and to leave you the fuck alone.”

“Larry,” I sighed.

“What? You wanna talk to this guy? I think he piss you off, no?” He snapped.

“I mean, yeah.” I lied, not knowing why I had been angry with Pierre. He was harmless and a great friend.

“Then I do right.” He shrugged. “This guy really care for you. He call even when I say not to. Bitch nigga.”

“He was probably concerned.” That earned an eye roll. “He was my friend, Larry.”

His eyes flickered down to mine. Heat remained but there was also a softness evident. “He not wanna be just your friend, Marlee.”

“And Luzy didn't want to be just yours.” I was defensive but rightfully so.

“I not talk to her anymore.” I felt more relief than I felt comfortable admitting.

“Why?” I pressed.

He blinked, annoyed. “Is that not what you want?”

“What about what you want?”

“I only want you.” He declared without delay.

-

“Hey,”

“Sup.” His eyes didn't shift away from the TV screen. His fingers didn't move away from the remote.

My bare feet rasped quietly against the floor as I moved towards the couch. A sigh parted my lips as soon as the fibers from my rug nestled in between my toes.

I stared at my husband, taking in his presence. It seemed foreign nowadays. He was home and judging by his relaxed position and ensemble he didn't seem to be going anywhere.

Lately it felt like I was a single woman, living alone. I woke up alone, went to sleep alone, fixed meals for one. It sucked. It wasn't a choice that I'd made – it was one that was forced upon me.

Larry was super busy. He was booked for the next several months and while I was proud of his accomplishments I was also lonely. To add insult to injury when he wasn't working he was usually hanging with his friends – acting as though I, his wife, didn't exist. But now he was home and I, thrilled though I would never admit it.

I felt foolish being pleased with his presence. I wanted to be as unfazed as him. He was careless and free and I was trapped behind bars compromised of my misery.

I'd spent countless nights in bed, alone, bawling. I'd woken up with a face dehydrated by saline too any times to count. I'd walked around with my heart empty and my belly cramped by anguish.

I wanted to end my agony. I wanted to free myself from my blue world. I wanted it to be over but I needed him. I'd lost too much in the short years that I'd roamed the earth. I couldn't lose him too – not without a fight.

“I'm surprised you not playing FIFA?” I observed, gazing down at him.

He kissed his teeth. “Tony say to me this shit good.” The mention of Roy's brother made me roll my eyes. “He lie.”

I nodded despite that fact that he wasn't looking at me. My eyes moved to the TV where Larry's team was loosing by 9.

Bored with the game, I looked back to him, openly staring. His twisted hair was pulled up into a ponytail. A white tank loomed over his torso, exposing tatted arms. My gaze trailed over his Nike shorts and I smiled a small smile. I loved it when he wore those things. They offered the easiest access.

It was when my eyes reached his shoes that my smile dropped. Was he about to go somewhere? Was he about to rip my bliss away?

“You going out?” I asked, glaring at his shoes.

“Nah.” His eyes briefly found mine. “Why?”

“Why do you have on shoes?”

“Oh,” His foot shifted. “I just take out trash.”

I silently thanked him. Taking out the trash was my least favorite task. The long walk to the trash receptacle was annoying – I hated it. When Larry and I were good it was always him who took on the daunting task but now that I was alone I was forced to do it.

“Fuck,” He cursed lowly as the opposing team scored on his yet again, gaining an 11 point lead.

“Can I try?” The question pulled his gaze up to mine. I celebrated with a small grin.

“You think you can play better than me?” He too grinned and my heart exploded.

“Yeah.” I nearly squealed but somehow I was able to hold onto my composure. Somehow I was able to not act like a 15-year old but instead a grown ass, married woman.

Wordlessly he handed off the remote and instead of taking a seat next to him on the couch, I moved closer to the TV. I needed to see exactly what I was doing with the foreign game, and I needed him to see me.

I'd deliberately put on my skimpiest panties and a gossamer crop top because he was home. I wanted attention – needed it even – and this felt like an effective way to gain it. I mean, it'd worked in the past.

I felt the heat of his stare as I faced the TV, unpausing the game. My fingers fumbled over the remote and the opposing team instantly gained a point.

Bashfully I turned to face Larry only to find that his eyes were on the TV and not me. Still determined, I shifted and focused on the game.

A few minutes slid by and by some miracle I managed to close the point gap tremendously, leaving me only down by 2 points. I felt proud yet bored. I didn't give two shits about this game. I'd only wanted Larry's attention.

I could recall a time where I wouldn't have even been able to walk pass him wearing something like this without him grabbing my hips and planting his face between my thighs seconds later. Now I was standing ass out before him and receiving nothing.

“it's not that hard, babe.” I spoke, still playing.

Instead of  hearing his voice in response I heard the beeping of his phone, signifying that he had a text. I chewed my lips, wondering who it was. I prayed it was Lau or Laure. Or anyone but her.

The sound of him moving from his seated position to his phone cracked in my ears like thunder. Unable to help myself, I paused the game and faced him.

The arm of my fucking couch acted as his seat as his typed in his phone. I was instantly annoyed by the way he regarded the couch but I said nothing as I didn't want a fight over something so small.

I placed the remote on the coffee table as I moved towards him. He looked away from his phone and at me when I invaded his space.

The feel of his heat nearly set me on fire. The fresh smell of the soap he'd washed with dampened the space between my thighs.

I was far beyond being in heat. I was desperate for release, and nothing I did with a vibrator or my fingers got me to where I wanted to be.

“Hey,” I grinned, feeling every bit of corny.

“Hey?” His face balled up in confusion and maybe a little annoyance.

The tiny bit of confidence I had left shattered to nothingness, leaving me feeling silly. But I was here now and I'd already started – reneging wasn't an option.

“Wanna sex?” The question sounded foreign on my tongue. I'd never had to ask it before.

He shrugged and my heart shattered. “I mean,” His phone beeped, dragging his eyes downward. I didn't hate myself enough to look down and see who was texting him. “I guess,” He hummed.

I sucked in a breath and took a step back. I wanted to pinch myself to verify that I wasn't actually stuck in some twisted ass nightmare where I'd just asked my husband if he want to fuck me and he responded with an 'I guess'.

I blinked and shuddered.

I chewed my lip and blinked back tears.

I crumbled before him but he'd missed it because he was too busy responded to a text.

“Nevermind.” I hissed, whirling around and exiting the living room.

Never had I felt so stupid in my life.

With my confidence low and my pride ripped to shreds, I climbed in bed ,wishing that Larry wasn't here. His presence did not make me feel better but worse.

When he was physically away I had no choice but to deal with the fact that I couldn't have him. However having him be mere inches away from me and still inaccessible was by far the worst thing ever.

He was unreachable.

-

marlee.

Tiff, I need you to track those backdrops – and confirm with Complex for the third, pleasseee?”

“Yup,” I caught her nod out of the corner of my eye.

“When does that project with The Coveteur start again?”

To say business was booming would be an understatement. At this point I needed three of me just to cover my January calendar. Most of my work days were no less than 12 hours, and though I was too tired to function by the time I got home most nights I didn’t complain. It was a good problem to have.

“February 12th – are you excited?”

“Hella, and a little nervous.” For the first time ever I was stepping from behind the lenses for a bit to act as a creative director for the popular lifestyle blog.

“You’re the shit. You’re gonna do good.” She encouraged with an ease that spoke volumes about how genuine she was.

I beamed. “That’s exactly why I keep you around,”

“And here I was thinking that it was because I reminded you of your Asian roots.” She was laughing before she could even finish the sentence.

“You’re so funny I forgot to laugh.” I muttered even as I released a breathy cackle.

Though the statement was a joke, it held truth. Tiffany was the only person of Asian descent that I ‘d ever truly spent time with. Needless to say, I didn’t know my father and from what I’d heard he’d never wanted to know me so that side of my family was a complete mystery to me.

“I have so much to doooo!” I screeched out into the open space of my studio, earning a long, straight-faced stare from Tiffany. “I do. I have to finish the edits for Essie because they’re so fucking ridiculous and particular that everything we submit gets sent back for more editing. Then I have to show my face at Denatis’ gallery, and shoot for the Vetements campaign.”

“Don’t forget you’re set be a key note speaker at the Black Creatives conference.”

“Fuck,” I hissed. “I forgot about that.”

“Figured. Then there’s that tech conference in Vegas.”

Feeling suddenly overwhelmed, I huffed. “But we got it. We’re good.” She assured, and because she was so good at her job I believed her.

Ironically I hadn’t even wanted to hire her. It was Larry’s doing and in the beginning I had been everything but receptive to her. However, she hung in there eventually earning my respect and then my love. That was well over two years ago and honestly I couldn’t imagine surviving without her.

“I need to go,’ I muttered eyeing the time on my phone. “I have a dinner tonight with Pierre.”

Her frown was instant and her eyes nearly crossed with confusion. “There’s no dinner with Life + Times set up for tonight.”

She was already scrolling through her phone to validate the statement. She would be the one to know. She’d curated my calendar so perfectly that there was no space for error.

“It’s not on the calendar.” I stood from my seated position on the floor, groaning as my joints cracked.

“Why not?” Her frowned deepened. “I would have certainly put if there if they’d scheduled it. I didn’t–“

“It’s not a business dinner.” Her frown instant dropped before curling in confusion and then accusation. “It’s really casual.”

“Just you and Pierre?” She pressed and I fought not to roll my eyes as annoyance crept up my back. There was nothing I hated more than being questioned.

“Yup.” My cheery response was faux. “Just me and Pierre.”

“How long will this take?” I pondered, adjusting the large headphones over my ears.

“Twenty minutes.” The pilot answered with a small smile. I returned the friendly gesture before looking to Larry who was already watching me.

“Hi.” I grinned.

His normally honey hued skin was now toffee due to too many kisses from the sun. His twisted hair was frizzy and pulled up into a ponytail. His eyes were bright and rivaled even the most coveted pieces at Tiffany. He was single-handedly the most beautiful being I’d ever laid my eyes on.

My eyes dropped from his frame as I tried to focus on clearing the fog my awe of him had clouded my brain with. He was the worst kind of distraction. It was nearly impossible to focus on anything when he was near.

Then again the only thing we were here in Maldives to focus on was us.

Somewhere in the midst of the celebration of our union we deaded the concept of repairing us and decided to simply bulldoze and start over. There were far too many cracks and to caulk them all would only lead to future damage. We needed to heal from the inside out – patching up wasn’t an option.

To my dismay healing began with not only approaching but diving headfirst into odoriferous topics. Like Luzy…

As though he sensed my putrid thinking, he covered my hand with his. Warmth instantly cloaked my achy bones and brightness exploded, annihilating my dark thoughts.

I smiled as his fingers laced with mine. “Are you excited?” He quizzed.

“About?” I hummed, gazing up at him.

“Going to a new island?”

“Oh! Yes, I am.”

We’d been in Male for days now and while it was beautiful it didn’t offer the seclusion the smaller islands did.

“What we do when we get there?” He quizzed, squeezing my hand to pull my attention from the endless blue view.

“Huh?” With patience that didn’t surprise me, he repeated the question.

My smirk was instant, as my mind was instantly plastered with images of all the things I wanted to do to him. “Why you look like that?”

“I was thinking about what  I wanted to do.”

“Wha?” He feigned innocence and then laughed when my brows rose. “Why you do that?!”

“You know whats that means.” I mocked.

And he did.

We’d nearly fallen off of the bungalow walkway in our haste. My top was no more before we could completely close the door. In fact, I was sure that he’d ripped my prized bikini top.

“How long before the bags come?” Larry breathed, peppering kisses along the rise of my breasts.

“Hour. An hour.” My reply was a rushed murmur as my attention was solely riveted on the heat that was steadily rising in my center.

“Good.” He responded before tucking my needy nipple into the furnace that was his mouth.

His eyes rose to meet mine as he suckled at my sensitive flesh. He stared me down, knowing his impact. In his gaze I saw his will to destroy me.

My eyes nearly crossed under the pull of lust as I watched him disrobe. His tank came off easily. The sweats he wore came off easier. And when he stood before me, wearing only a pair of grey Calvins, I moved forward, deciding that I wanted to unwrap my prize.

My heart throbbed as the heat from his stare blanketed me in lust. Warmth spread through me quickly, settling in my core and the crest of my cheeks. If I were any lighter I’d be crimson.

Knowing what I wanted and what I was going for, Larry stepped back, shaking his head at my advance. “Take your clothes off.”

My face went slack and he smiled, amused by my impatience. “Now.”

The command didn’t go unheard and I instantly went to work, peeling the remainder of my clothes off. The mountain of garments at my feet grew larger with each item I shed.

Left in only my bikini bottoms, I smirked as Larry’s eyes latched on to my curves. I tugged slowly at the skimpy material and then let gravity do it’s job, watching the fabric slide slowly down my thighs.

This time Larry was the impatient one, gripping my hips and lifting me before I had the chance to step out of the beachwear.

“You still have on boxers.” I complained, wanting him as bare as me.

“I take off… later.” He murmured, depositing me on the lofty bed. “I want to taste you.”

If I was a fire, his words were gasoline.

“Puis-je poser mon cul sur ta guele?” (Can I sit on your face)

If he was a fire, my words were fans.

“Please,” He begged, pulling me up effortlessly.

His movements were as coordinated as his dancing. Within the swiftest seconds, he laid down and positioned me how he wanted me – perched proudly over his face.

The tickle of his breath was enough to send my hips forwards. The first flick of his tongue was enough to melt me into goo.

Larry aimed straight for my aching clit, twirling his tongue with choreographed torture. I moaned and whimpered and he licked again, leaving me no time to recover. His sadistic ways always floored me.

“Please, baby,” I whimpered, driving my fingers through his disheveled twists.

His fingers devoured my thighs, molding the flesh with greedy grasps. His tongue pummeled my pussy, stroking heavier and rougher with each second – just how I liked it.

I fisted his hair as he fisted my ass, moving me over his mouth and tornado of a tongue. Heat clamped to my womb, sending my core into fit of trembles.

I gaze down, anxious to find the eyes of the man who destroyed me most. I wasn’t surprised to find his eyes already latched to me. He lived to see me fall apart.

My head fell forward as his mouth pulled me towards a vortex of bliss. “Lar– “ The -ry expired in my throat as his tongue took to lapping the underside of my clit.

I bucked and gasped, feeling my core begin the slow trickle of lava-like pleasure. “Merde,” I moaned.

I hated and loved the current sensitivity of my body. I’d been on his face for less than three minutes and already I was about to erupt. Either Larry was getting stronger or I was getting weaker.

“Je peux jouir…”  (Can I cum) My french grew faint as pleasure in the form of electricity struck me. The sweet pressure began to build. My hips began to wind. “dans ta bouche?” (in your mouth)

His answer came in the form of lethal tongue lashes and suckling lips. I bucked and screamed, surely disrupting the entire island as my candied lava trickled to the tip before erupting.

Not caring that I was paralyzed and that my pussy was still quaking, Larry quickly put me on my back, covering my body with his. At the feel of him, hot and heavy over me, I too ignored my weakened state and set out to ravish him.

I tugged at his briefs with a desperation the scared me. My frenzied fingers were everything but coordinated, landing me nowhere.

Larry who possessed the patience of a monk took over, ridding himself of the offensive cotton undergarments with a single movement. Blindly, he tossed them, not caring about where they landed.

“Je le veux,” (I want it) I hummed impatiently as he nestled between my thighs.

“Ouais?” He breathed, brushing his lips over mine. My nod was rushed and uncoordinated, leading him to breathy laughter.

“Elle est un cul a bites.” (She loves the dick) He sang, winding against my sex.

My laughter was tangled in a moan. “I do.” I confirmed.

“My wife love me only for my zizi.” His smile reached his eyes, leaving me utterly smitten.

“I love you as a whole – all of you. Everything.”

His smile faded but the glow in his eyes didn’t. Satisfaction and gratitude lined his features, honeying any and every part of me that was left bitter from our unsavory past.

“Those words with your voice is my favorite song I ever hear.” He breathed, parting my lips with his tongue and my sex with the dick I loved so much.

“I love you, Marlee. And I never live another day without make you know that.” He sealed his promise with a kiss that was innocent and sweet. And then pulled back, impaling me –  parting flesh that knew only him.

Larry and I fucked to a point of exhaustion. When our bodies could no longer actively thrive in the field of passion, we curled against each other and conversed.

He told me of the things he and Lau had coming up and I told him of the new goals I’d set into place and how eager I was to get back to work.

We touched and talked, whispered and caressed until Larry eventually gave way to slumber, with his head nestled in the hollow of my neck.

The moment was so perfect that my eyes glazed with tears. Knowing I had my man back and that our future was bright filled me with a feeling that was impossible to describe.

The sound of the waves outside filled the void that Larry’s voice had left. But sadly the waves weren’t enough to accommodate the lofty space and my memories filed in, one by fucking one.

“You so stupid,” I cackled. “Shut up.”

“I’m serious.” He smiled. It was vivid and consumed his entire face.

“I know, that’s what makes you so ridiculous.”

I chuckled, glancing down at the wine glass that had been in my hand for minutes now. I’d yet to drink any of the dry, red vino because I was too distracted by good conversation, and genuine happiness. I’d been deprived of the two for so long that I didn’t know how to act when they occurred any more. Balance was nonexistent but I wasn’t complaining.

“How did you like Paris?” I quizzed, finally taking a sip of my neglected beverage.

“It was dope.” He grinned in remembrance. “People heard my name and thought ya boy was French – and then I spoke.” I laughed. “Those French pointers you gave me were trash.”

“Nigga, those were A1 tips I gave you.” I retorted through cackles. “I even wrote pronunciations phonetically.”

“That shit still ain’t work.” He rolled his eyes even as his lips curved into a smile. “That language is trash.”

“It’s a beautiful language.” I defended the language I’d learned through some of my happiest moments.

“Trash.” He joked. “How did you learn it anyway?”

Coffee colored eyes raked over my face, pausing to take in every detail. My stomach twisted and heart raced. He made me nervous. He gave me butterflies.

He made me feel like Larry used to.

I knew I was trekking down a dangerous trail but I couldn’t pull myself to a stop, and frankly I didn’t want to. What I felt right now was too good. It was addictive but I had every intention of pacing myself. I only wanted small doses to hold me over until my husband and I found our way back to normalcy.

I’d always prided myself on not being powered by male attention. I coasted through my adolescence, watching friends fall left and right for boys. I went through high school, hearing about virginity being lost, love being declared and hearts being shattered, and then I met Larry. He was the first and only boy I’d given a second thought. And along with that second thought I gave my time, my heart, my virginity, my everything.

I’d never wanted another man, and I still didn’t but what I did want was attention and Larry offered it only when he felt like it. Pierre on the other hand was into me, and it showed.

Little emails and text messages from him would make my day. Light would emerge from the grayest clouds when he called. And though it was rare, whenever we did physically hangout, I’d be left with a high that lasted for days.

I wanted to feel bad for the relationship I carried on with Pierre but I didn’t. He made me feel entirely too good for me to feel anything but happy. He was my friend – my good friend who beckoned butterflies with his words and heart palpitations with his glances.

“My hus– Larry taught me.” I murmured the fact. I hated to talk about him. It didn’t seem right.

He nodded his acceptance, taking a sip of his water. “That’s dope.”

“Yeah. He taught me French, I taught him English.” I rambled, unable to stop myself. Once I started talking about Larry it was impossible stop, which is why I stayed away from the subject.

Especially with Pierre.

“It’s clear that he’s the better teacher.” I gasped out as he laughed. “I’m fucking with you.”

But we both knew he wasn’t. “English is a difficult language.” I muttered in defense of my husband’s raggedy English. “It’s niggas who have the shit as their native tongue and they still can’t speak the shit.” I went on.

“I feel you.” He nodded with smirk resting in the corner of his lips.

Deciding to dead a potential one-sided debate, I went back to the original topic.“Other than the language barrier, how was it?”

“Amazing. I wish I could’ve stayed for longer – the fucking food.” I chuckled. “I had the best fucking burrito there in my life.”

“You went to Paris and had a burrito?” My smirk morphed into a full on smile. “All the bœuf bourguignon, coq au vin, gougère, crêpes you could have had and you got a burrito?”

I didn’t doubt that the burrito was good. Paris was a melting pot of different types of cuisines, as it wasn’t one dimensional when it came to culture. However, I’d given Pierre a full out lecture about stepping out of his comfort zone hours before he boarded his flight.

“I mean, I ate that shit too. I actually had the orange duck shit–“

“Duck à l'orange,” I corrected him, wearing a toothy grin.

“Yeah! That shit was lit.” His eyes glazed at the mention of the classic dish. “You ever had it?”

“Yeah but I don’t like duck.”

“You’re such a picky eater, sweetheart.” A small smile sent his lips upward.

“No I’m not!” I laughed out,defending myself. “I just don’t like duck.”

“Or chocolate or mint or kiwis or watermelon.” He frowned. “Or biscuits! Who the fuck doesn’t like biscuits?”

The expression sent me into a fit of laughter. He’d seemingly gotten more frustrated with my leary taste buds with each food he rattled off.

“Me.” I chuckled, wiping the corner of my eyes where tears had gathered. “Those dry shits.”

“You ain’t had the right ones.” He was sure of his statement. Almost as sure as he was that he knew me.

Pierre rattling off the foods that I despised most wasn’t the only thing he did to confirm the fact that he knew me… well.

There were times when he’d complete my sentences or tell me what I was thinking based solely by an expression on my face. He was in tune with me, he watched me. His initial curiosity stemmed from admiration and over the past few months he’d dedicated himself to learning me through and through.

It bothered me but I couldn’t quite figure out why. I mean, I knew him… well. But he knew me differently, or at least he wanted to.

The way I sought to know him was how one would know a friend and the way he sought to know me was more intimate. It was as though he was courting me – the questions he asked, the statements he made, the way he regarded me.

He liked me.

I knew it.

And it filled me with guilt.

I didn’t know how to stop it without me having to stop being around him, and I wanted to be around him because I enjoyed him. He was smart and funny and attentive and talented – and he paid attention to me unlike my husband.

I sucked up his male energy. I gorged myself on his compliments. I feasted on his stares. His touches, though rare and innocent, acted as my carbs, giving me energy.

I’d morphed into a gourmand who consumed misplaced satisfaction.

Gluttonous and guilty.

Pierre was sweet to my senses but I was intelligent enough to know that saccharine delights were often poison in disguise.

Tiff’s reaction to the news that I’d be having a ‘casual’ dinner with Pierre tonight lined my lungs with crude vapors. Her reaction only confirmed exactly what I knew – that I was behaving inappropriately for a happily, married woman.

But happiness had somehow lost it’s way in my marriage. It drifted and drifted until it was merely a memory. A acrimonious one.

Instead of the past, and memories, bringing on delightful smiles they summoned rancorous snarls. Bitterness had become my specialty, and I was good at it.

Prior to Pierre waltzing along I’d spent my mornings, noons and nights yearning for my husband, yearning for our marriage – the way it used to be. I woke up each morning trying to pinpoint exactly where our bliss had blundered. And by the time I went to sleep I knew.

The babies. The lack of. The loss.

Knowing that my failure to produce life, a liaison of me and Larry, ruined us sent me spiraling. My knowledge brought clarity but no acceptance.

My routine of self loathing grew more intense with each rotation of the earth. I wondered the worst things – things I wouldn’t dare say aloud. Words that were so acerbic my tongue would melt before the first syllable hit the air.

On the day I met Pierre I’d risen, wondering where my husband was. I’d made myself breakfast and ate it alone, upset that he hadn’t answered my call. I’d replayed arguments in my head as I read emails from Tiffany briefing me on Life + Times. I’d dressed and when Larry arrived home, wearing a smile that I was positive I didn’t put there, I silently wondered if he viewed me as the walking morgue of his children. An urn filled with nothing but possibilities.

Then he kissed me, slid his hands into my panties and willed the thoughts away. He was the remedy for the poison I masochistically consumed daily.

I’d left him with a promise to wrap my meeting up quickly. I’d left him wanting him – craving. But as I sat in the back of a yellow cab I realized that Larry was not a remedy for my inner pain. He was merely the Nyquil that quieted the symptoms but didn’t rid of them.

I’d whimpered and then cried and then fixed my makeup before entering Buddakan to meet Pierre.

Work was the perfect distraction but the more I spoke to the man creatively behind the popular lifestyle blog I realized that I wasn’t distracted by the concept of work but the concept of him.

That night when I got home, I fucked my husband.

And drifted to sleep, thinking of another man.

Now I sat before him laughing and smiling harder than I have in months. For the moment my guilt was cloaked in glitter. I would consider morals when I got home to my empty Tribeca loft.

For now I would enjoy my friend.

“My guy, you eat like a fucking toddler.” I huffed behind my partial smile.

“Wha?” He wondered, clueless that the sea bass he’d been enjoyed was woven within his mustache.

With an eye roll and a chuckle, I leaned forward, knocking the misplaced seafood away.

“You ain’t have to slap me,” He gripped my wrist before I could fully disengage.

“I ain’t sl–“

“Ce quoi ce bordel..?” (What the fuck) The heavy French rasp was too familiar for my heart to remain in place.

It dropped to my soles before my eyes could complete ascent the 6'4 frame of the man I’d given everything to.“Larry,”

“Je le savais.” (I knew it) He confirmed in a distant whisper, and to garner more confirmation his narrowed eyes trailed to where Pierre’s fingers were encased around my wrist.

I nearly shrieked aloud as I snatched my arm from his grip, moving my fingers and intentions back to the clear zone – the innocent zone. But it was too late. Despite the fact that my hand was no longer in Pierre’s space Larry’s eyes still clung to it.

He stared hard enough to burn the flesh, to melt through my bones and leave my marrow is a gaseous state. With curiosity and dread my eyes followed his, finding moisturized fingers and manicured nails. He stared and so did I, and when the anomaly that guarded his attention finally became apparent, I gasped – loudly.

I wasn’t wearing my ring, and I knew it looked like it was deliberate because I was out dinning with Pierre but it wasn’t. Yet, I knew that if I explained to Larry that I’d been cleaning prior to arriving here that he wouldn’t believe me.

The circumstances and the way things appeared nearly led me to not believe me.

“Larry?” I called again. “Que faites-tu ici?” (What are you doing here)

His frown grew more intense and his eyes burned with the heat of a thousand suns. But instead of answering me, or even acknowledging me, he reached for my wine glass, places his lips over one of the burgundy lipstick stains left by me and swallowed the contents in a single gulp.

“Lar,” I gasped, knowing my husband didn’t drink, and that he hated wine.

It was when Larry placed the stemmed glass down with far more force than necessary that Pierre reacted, preparing to stand up.

“You good, my brother.” Larry smiled the coldest smile as he locked eyes with Pierre. Jeffrey Dahmer couldn’t even compete. “Wine make her good.”

I knew what good meant and it cracked against my soul like a iron whip, leaving me trembling. Larry thought I was sleeping with Pierre. He was ultra positive that I was cheating. There was no doubt, no questions.

With a final nod he turned to leave but not before shooting me one final glare. However, this time as his eyes met mine I spotted what anger had concealed, heart numbing hurt.

Anguish.

Dejection.

I wanted to crumple into a heap and die. Larry was the very last person on earth I wanted to hurt. I’d hurt him enough already. I’d taken more from him in life than anyone every had.

“Fuck,” I whimpered, shooting out of my seat.

“Marlee,” Pierre finally spoke, grasping my wrist – the wrist that connected to the hand of a seemingly single woman.

“Don’t touch me,” I hissed, snatching away and glaring at him as though he was to blame for my less than impressive acts of a wife.

Outside I found temperatures that had dropped and my pacing husband. “Larry!”

His head shot up at the sound of his name but he scoffed moving in the opposite direction when I took a step towards him.

“Larry,” I spoke his name gently.“It’s not what it looks like!” I rushed out. My desperation was plastered all over my existence.

“Is not?” His brows rose. “That’s what you use? I think you smarter, Marlee. Is very cliché,”

“I don’t care how cliché it sounds. It’s true. Pierre and I don’t have that kind of relationship.”

Boredom consumed his face. “What kinda relationship you have?”

“He’s my friend.” I swore. “I would never cheat on you.”

My words forced his lips into a thin line. “Never.” I cemented my truth.

“This nice, sexy.” He fingered the material of my dress. “I never see before. You buy for him?”

His voice was light and cheery but I knew that beneath his exterior a vicious storm was brewing.

He was being typical Larry. The Larry that acted unaffected and careless. The Larry that was cold and cared nothing about my feelings.

“Stop it,” I hissed.

“What I did?”

“Larry, you came here and saw me eating with another man. I know what it looks like and I know you’re upset.”

“I not upset.” He insisted the lie, topping it with a shrug.

“Pierre is just my friend and someone that I work with,”

I reached for his hand, his right with my left, and his eyes instantly dropped to my ringless finger.

“Me touchez pas,” (Don’t touch me) He snapped, snatching away.

“Larry, come on!”

“Don’t yell for me. I should be yelling. I come home, call you a million time and I find you here with this nigga!” His top was finally leaking the steam that brewed inside.

At the mention of him calling me I pulled my phone out finding 8 missed calls and a plethora of text messages.

“I surprise you for take you out and you here!” He roared.

His flames fueled my fire. Each syllable fanned the growing flame. “You finally come the fuck home, and you’re mad because I wasn’t available to you. Well, welcome to my fucking world, baby because you’re never available to me.”

i was out with him, cause you were out with her...

“You talk this shit for nothing me work have nothing to do with you be with this bitch boy, and you not wear your ring!” His hands moved faster than his lips. “And you wear this tight ass dress. You look like you cant even fucking breathe in this plastic shit.” With each word his voice rose. “And I remember you wear shit like this for him before – this what he like? This what you do for him… wear tight dress, heels?” He eyes dropped down to my feet.

“He like your hair like this too?” He carelessly and coldly flicked the curls that rested on my shoulder. “Me and him have a lot him common. What else he like you to do, Marlee?”

He was pissed and now visibly shaking. His hat was low on his eyes and shading eyes that blazed with fury. A sweatshirt covered his upper body and I instantly wondered where his coat was.

At the thought of a coat, I touched my bare arm, realizing that I hadn’t bother to grab mine from coat check.

“Can we just go home and talk about this?” I reasoned, moving towards him.

He shook his head, narrowing his eyes at my expense. “Tu es complétement faux cul,” (You are so full of shit)

I nearly choked as he glared at me. He’d never in all our years looked at me like this. He was disgusted, repulsed… by me.

Now crippled and unable, I inwardly sighed, begging him silently for mercy. “Tu sais que je t'aime.” (You know I love you)

He shook his head. “Je sais rien.” (I don’t know anything)

“Baby– “

“Non,” He moved towards the curb, towards the valet.

“ Je peux en placer une?!” (Can I at least get a word in) Wrapped in barbed wire he gave me the gift of his back.

“You’re being so fucking stupid, right now.”

As though I wasn’t out here freezing my ass of in a dress that was equipped to deal with the winter chill  for a max of 60 seconds while partnered with a coat and begging him for his attention and mercy, he spoke to the valet, accepting his keys.

“So fucking dumb!” I barked, craving his attention now more than ever.

“Va te faire voir.” (Go to hell) His hissed and his words were colder than the air whipping around me.

Stunned, I watched him climb into his truck and pull recklessly into traffic. And when I could no longer see him, I turned to retrieve my coat and maybe a little of my dignity.

I stopped in my tracks, seeing Pierre standing near the entrance, watching me – more than likely judging me.

I watched him watch me, grateful that he didn’t know french. He said nothing and neither did I. He was waiting for me to speak but he would wait forever.

With a glance I turned, walking in the opposite direction. I’d sacrificed my coat for the sake of my pride.

I didn’t need it.

I was numb.

-