Chapter Two Solae Diamond Santiago
My iPhone was probably tired of my shit. I was sure I'd hit a world record calling Marcus damn near a hundred times without a fucking response. I'd messaged him on every one of his social media pages. Hell, I even downloaded one of those fake-number apps.
Still nothing.
Halfway through a bottle of my favorite red wine and feeling every sip, I couldn't stop thinking about the four years I'd wasted on a man who clearly didn't know what the hell he wanted. I probably played Mary on repeat a hundred times.
When I really sat with that number four years was long as hell, it made me sick.
What exactly did I have to show for it besides an empty ass house?
No fairy-tale marriage. No bad-ass kids. No big-ass wedding ring. No real love. Just empty promises, unanswered questions, and a heart still waiting on the kind of '90s R&B love that felt safe enough to believe in and secure enough to hold on to.
The thought of ending up alone bothered my soul more than I ever thought it would. I hated feeling needy or vulnerable because that wasn't who I was.
I was the complete package, and I knew that.
Independent, educated, beautiful, driven, and successful.
There were moments when I caught myself daydreaming about little feet running across hardwood floors, tiny giggles filling my home, little hands reaching for me while calling me Mommy, soft baby curls wrapped around my fingers.
Those thoughts used to make me smile.
Now they only made the emptiness feel heavier.
Slay Your Way Beauty Salon wasn't just doing well. Business had been thriving. Celebrity bookings were opening doors I'd only dreamed about, and I finally had the freedom to run my business on my own terms. Alongside five talented women, I'd built something solid.
Which was exactly why this breakup had me so fucked up. The problem in my relationship with Marcus was never me working too much or refusing to step down so he could lead. It wasn't a lack of quality time, and it damn sure wasn't because I didn't love that man with everything I had in me.
The truth was a whole lot harder to swallow. Sometimes you can give someone your best and still not be enough for the version of life they want.
It damn sure wasn't sex either, because I knew how to throw this ass in a circle and keep a man satisfied.
I refused to believe the downfall of my so-called solid-ass relationship was because of my best friend.
Sitting on my pink love seat with my legs thrown over the armrest, I stared blankly at the ceiling, letting that thought replay in my head. I made a mental note to deep clean this weekend because my place looked like I felt, like shit.
Marcus had to be one insecure-ass man.
So what if Crown was confidently attractive?
That still didn't change who he was to me just my fucking Best Friend.
Corlin Crown Alexander had been my best friend since middle school. Hardheaded, overprotective, and annoyingly observant, he always acted like he knew everything before I did.
When shit went wrong, I called my best friend because I knew he was gone help, assist and make it all better.
When something good happened, I called my best friend.
So the fuck what?
Getting up from the love seat, I walked over to the framed picture of Marcus and me during happier days. We had on matching Nike outfits, smiling like life was perfect and nothing in the world could touch us.
Looking at that picture now felt like staring at strangers.
Before I knew it, tears slipped down my face.
Slam!
The picture hit the floor, glass shattering on impact.
Annoyed, I wiped my robe sleeve across my face just as Crown's name lit up my phone. The anime character I'd saved for his contact picture blinked rapidly like it already knew I was going to answer.
Without thinking, I swiped over and lifted the phone to my ear, trying to hide the fact that I was crying.
"Solae, I know that better be your allergies acting up and you not over there crying."
His voice came through rough and deep.
I couldn't speak.
"Lae."
This time his voice dropped lower.
My throat tightened, refusing to let the words come out.
"Lae!"
He damn near growled my name.
I leaned against the kitchen counter, gripping the edge for support, but all that escaped my mouth was a shaky breath.
The line went dead.
I stared at my screen.
I already knew what that meant.
Crown was on his way.
Thank God Marcus had already gotten all his shit out of my house because if he'd still been there, Crown probably would've checked his ass.
Throwing my phone onto the granite counter, I rubbed my temples as another stress headache settled behind my eyes.
Bang.
Bang.
My whole body jerked.
Ain't no damn way Crown was beating on my door like the police.
Storming to the front door, I yanked it open.
"Have you lost your goddamn mind, Corlin Crown Alexander? Banging on my damn door like you live here?"
I turned before he could answer, already irritated.
“Lae, what the fuck you expect? You over here crying and shit. I ain't know what was going on.”
His deep voice followed behind me.
I glanced back and caught him scanning my living room like a damn hunting dog that smelled blood in the air.
“Solae, what the hell?”
His eyes dragged over me before settling on my robe.
“You ain't got no damn clothes on?”
He stroked his beard in frustration.
“This my house nigga, remember?” I shot back.
“Solae, go upstairs and put some damn clothes on.”
His voice stayed low and calm, but firm enough to make me listen.
My robe flapped behind me like it was pissed off too as I stomped upstairs. I threw on a fitted black tee and sweats before heading back down the stairs to face Crown.
By the time I returned, Crown had already taken over my kitchen.
Flank steak thawed in the sink. Onions and bell peppers covered my counter.
I crossed my arms.
“Solae, I know your stubborn ass ain't ate shit up in here crying over some punk-ass dude that I told you years ago was gonna pull this shit.”
“Crown, shut up because you don't know what the hell you're talking about. I don't say shit about you and your little groupie females.”
I smacked my lips, irritated because, deep down, he was right.
He'd warned me about Marcus from the beginning, but my nose had been wide open.
Little shit like private conversations and Marcus's phone ringing at all times of the night should've been enough for me to see what was right in front of my face.
The headache creeping behind my eyes made itself known again.
“Go grab that Goodie Powder out the bag in the middle of the counter.”
He never turned around. He already knew stress triggered my headaches.
The pan hit the stove with a loud clang.
“Oh, okay, Big Crown with the razzle dazzle steak tacos.”
His steak tacos were enough to make any woman say, “I do.” Perfectly seasoned steak, sautéed peppers and onions, and soft shells warmed just right. Pure comfort food.
My entire mood shifted.
Without saying a word, he reached over, grabbed my phone off the counter, powered it down, and slid it into his back pocket. I caught a whole attitude.
He was lucky because wasn't nobody else bold enough to put their hands on my damn phone.
“Lae, go pick a movie. Dinner'll be ready in a little.”
He flipped the steak like he hadn't just walked in and taken over my whole damn house.
I stood there watching him, trying to steal his recipe.
Crown had always been like this. No matter how hard life hit me, he had a way of walking in and steadying everything without making a big production out of it.
I hated how much I needed that right now.
Somewhere between the smell of food, the warmth filling my kitchen, and Crown taking care of me without asking for permission, something inside me shifted.
Marcus leaving hurt like hell.
But Crown showing up made none of that matter anymore.