Chapter Six | Porsha
Chapter Six
Porsha
“I ALREADY HAD A SITTER lined up.”
“Well, I was thinking, maybe my mom and I could help. Mama Baxter loves kids. And I thought it would give us a chance to spend more time together.”
“And how do you feel about kids?” I ask.
“I’m offering to babysit—I think that’s a good sign...and I thought it would give me a chance to meet Nia.” The sincerity in his voice melts my reservations and I already trust him with Nia, so. “Sounds good. Thank you. Can y’all be here for six? That should give me enough time to get ready.”
“We’ll be there,” he says confidently.
“See you then.”
The day passes in a blur as I prepare for tonight. I dress carefully, choosing an elegant outfit that makes me feel both confident and beautiful.
Asa and Mama Baxter arrive on time. Asa looks incredibly handsome, and his mom is as warm and kind as I remember. She instantly puts me at ease.
“Thank you so much for doing this,” I say, genuinely grateful.
“It’s our pleasure, hon,” Mama Baxter replies with a kind smile. Asa steps closer and kisses me on the lips. It’s a tender and sweet kiss that leaves me blushing. Mama Baxter nods her approval, and I feel a sense of sincerity and acceptance.
Just then, Zahara knocks on the door, her timing impeccable. “Ready to go?” she asks, as she steps inside. She gives me a knowing look as she spots Asa.
“Ready for your big night?” she asks.
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” I reply, feeling a swell of confidence. As Zahara and I head out the door, Asa gives my hand a tender squeeze. “Have a great time. We’ll be here when you get back.” I nod, grateful for his support. This night could change everything for me, and knowing that Asa is there supporting me in his own way, makes all the difference.
T he investment dinner goes even better than I had hoped. I secure a substantial investment for my jewelry line, and I’m floating on cloud nine. All my hard work is paying off, and I’m ready to create a legacy for my daughter and myself.
Zahara and I head to the bar to celebrate, toasting with champagne and laughing about everything and nothing at all. As we sip our drinks, Zahara’s eyes sparkle with curiosity.
“You seem different, Porsha. Happier. Is it because of the young hunky guy babysitting my Nia-bear tonight?” she asks. I blush.
“We matched on that dating app. And we’re having a great time together.” Zahara grins, raising her glass. “To your newfound happiness, then,” she toasts.
We clink glasses, laughing, but we’re interrupted when I see my ex-husband approaching. Shit. What does this motherfucker want? Anthony is handsome with a stern look that used to intimidate me. Now, it makes me angry.
“Porsha,” he says. “Can we talk?”
His tone leaves no room for refusal. Zahara glares at him, but I nod, knowing it’s best to get this over with. “Fine, make it quick.”
He pulls me aside, his grip on my arm too tight for comfort. “Congratulations on your investment,” he says, but I know there’s a catch. There always is with him.
“Thank you,” I reply curtly, trying to pull away.
“I want you to sell me another ten percent,” he says, his eyes cold. “In exchange for tonight’s success.” I shake my head, my resolve firm.
“No, that’s not happening.”
His face darkens. “Don’t be stupid, Porsha. You owe me.”
“I don’t owe you shit.” I step away, but he grabs me by the arm, his grip like a vise.
“Let go of me,” I hiss, but he pulls me to a corner, his hand tightening around my neck.
“You owe me everything,” he says, his eyes flashing with anger. “What you have—you have because I allowed it.”
“I’m not scared of you anymore.” As I turn to walk away, he grabs me around the neck with one hand, trying to restrain me. Panic surges through me as I dig my fingernails into his cheek and break free. I head back into the ballroom searching for Zahara, who's surrounded by a group of investors. I rush outside, pull out my phone, and call Asa, trying to stay calm.
“Hey, babe,” he answers.
“Asa, can you come pick me up?” I say, a slight tremble in my voice. “It’s urgent.”
“What happened?” he asks.
“Just—right now. Please.”
“Of course, where are you?” he asks, his concern evident.
I give him the address and wait, my hands trembling until Zahara joins me. About thirty minutes later, her face filled with worry. “Porsha, what happened?”
“Anthony is a fucking pyscho,” I whisper, tears threatening to spill as Zahara wraps me in a warm embrace. “Asa’s on the way,” I say. “He should be here soon.”
“You sure you wanna wait? We can leave now.” She’s barely able to finish that sentence before Asa’s F-150 careens into the parking lot. Zahara and I stare at his truck as it roars toward us, realizing he must’ve been driving like a bat out of hell to make it here so fast.
“Damn, bro,” Zahara says. She’s staring wide eyed and impressed. “Where can I find one like him?” I grab her arm, pulling her along.
“Trinity Falls, Texas,” I say.
T he drive from Houston back to Trinity is an icy one. Asa sits quietly in the driver’s seat, staring out the windshield in a daze. His chest rises and falls slowly as he takes deep, calming breaths. He clinches the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles turn white. He hasn’t looked at me since we left the hotel.
“Talk to me,” I breathe.
At the sound of my voice, he grunts and his hands slide over the steering wheel.
“If he touches you again,” he says finally, “And I mean ever again... they’ll never find his fucking body. I know these mountains very well. Plenty of space to make a fucking problem like him disappear.”
“He’s my daughter’s father,” I say.
“He’s a fucking asshole who leaves bruises all over your body,” he spits, seething.
I sit back in my seat, shocked and embarrassed. He glances at me. “Yeah,” he snaps. “I saw the bruises,” he yells. “Every last one.”
“Do not fucking yell at me,” I snap. He frowns, then licks his lips.
“You’re never leaving Trinity Falls without me,” he says.
I cross my arms over my chest.
“Why? Because we fucked once? You sound crazy right now.”
“Because you’re mine,” he yells. “Mine to have. To love. Mine to protect. It’s really that simple,” he says, his tone mocking.
“Whoa—not even. I just divorced one controlling asshole and moved a hundred miles away from my home of the last ten years to get away from that type of shit. I don’t need another like him.”
“Don’t compare me to him. I’m not him.”
“Oh—so, you’re different?”
He looks at me, shocked that I’d even have to ask the question. “Then fucking act like it.”