Epilogue– Donte
I’d been thinking about how we met—me and Sinica—and how different life could’ve been if I’d walked away. And how to explain to Eshe why I needed Sinica at this juncture in my life.
I was in Atlanta on a business trip. Me and Eshe were off again. That night at the bar, Sinica slid into the seat beside me, her perfume expensive, looking pretty, body tight.
"You’re Donte, right?"
I knew who she was. I’d seen her in pictures on Eshe’s phone. She was her best friend. The one Eshe wasn’t sure was a real friend.
I should’ve walked away.
But the whiskey was warm in my blood, and Sinica’s fingers brushed my wrist as she reached for her drink. “Let me have a sip.” That shit was sexy.
That was the thing about Sinica—she always knew what to say, what to do, how to make a man feel like a god. Even if it was fake. Eshe never made me feel like a god. She made me feel like a human. And humans didn’t build kingdoms. They bled for them.
My momma like Sinica.
My colleague though I was lucky to have Sinica.
The sound of a steak knife scraping across bone China brought me out of my thoughts.
Sinica sat across from me, carving into her filet with surgical precision.
Candlelight flickered in her diamond studs—the ones I’d bought after the miscarriage.
I bought Eshe an identical pair. She threw them at me.
“Pass the Malbec?” she asked, holding out her glass.
I poured. Watched the wine swirl in the glass.
I still smelled like Eshe—vanilla and salt, warm skin.
I wondered if Sinica recognized the scent.
She probably did. She acted like she didn’t know I still dealt with Eshe, but she did.
She just wasn’t risking talking about it, not after I’d given her what she wanted. The baby. My last name.
Eshe would call by morning. She always did. And everything would go back to normal.
Sinica tapped my leg with her heel. “You’re zoning. Big case?”
“Something like that.” I stabbed at the risotto, heavy with imported truffles. It didn’t taste like anything. Eshe would’ve laughed, told me I got played. “Publix got truffle oil for $6.99, negro,” she’d say, scrunching her nose and sucking her teeth.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. Not Eshe. Just my associate. Motion denied.
Sinica sipped her wine, her nail tapping against the glass. “We should host the partners next month. Show off the renovation. Let them see how we’re living.”
“Mm. Whatever you want, babe.”
Was Eshe really done with me this time? Or did she just think she was?
Sinica’s heel hooked my ankle. “You sleepy?”
“Yeah.”
“Bed then?”
Upstairs, she showered and came out in silk pajamas, her hair perfectly in place. “Don’t forget—the gala’s Saturday. Wear the Tom Ford suit.”
I loosened my tie and stared at myself in the window. Why couldn’t Eshe understand? Sinica and I were more business partners than husband and wife. People like us didn’t stay married forever. Just long enough to build an empire we’d eventually split.
I closed my eyes and saw Eshe behind my lids. That wild look she had earlier. That knife she had pointed at me.
She was mad now. But she’d wait. She always did.
I pulled out my phone, thumb hovering over her name.
Sinica’s voice broke the silence. “You gonna shower?”
“Yeah.”
I went to set the phone facedown on the dresser. Then hesitated and didn’t.
“Let me check on my daughter first.”
In the nursery, I stood over the crib and looked down at her. Soft cheeks, her mother’s nose. This was the plus side. The piece of me I couldn’t regret.
I stepped back out, dialing Eshe.
The number you have dialed is no longer in service.
I stared at the screen. Called again.
Same thing.
Disconnected.
Damn.
Maybe she really meant it this time.
The phone slipped from my fingers.
The End