Chapter 2
2
Mona Cartwright
W hen I decided to file for divorce, there was no turning back. Winston cheated on me, on and off, for our entire marriage. Every time he got caught up, he’d tell me the women meant nothing to him, beg for my forgiveness, and promise never to do it again.
I believed him early on, but after the fifth time, I knew he’d never change. I gave up on having a faithful husband and turned a blind eye. However, the first time I became pregnant and subsequently suffered a miscarriage, I blamed it on the stress his cheating ass caused me.
I believed he felt guilty and tried to change for a short while, but after a few months, he returned to his old ways. The same thing happened when I became pregnant again and experienced another miscarriage. He temporarily became the man I fell in love with, only to show his true colors a few months later.
I vowed never to allow him to impregnate me again, forcing him to use only the condoms I purchased when we had sex, which became less and less as time went on. The lack of trust made it hard to let down my guard and be intimate with him.
I wasn’t sure what made the last time I found out he was cheating the final straw. Maybe it was because, for the first time, I had a name and face for one of the women he was having an affair with.
I believed it was meant for me to find out about her because I’d just met her a few minutes before. She happened to be having dinner with Evander, Clinton’s partner. I’d gone to the bathroom and overheard her talking to her friends on the phone about Winston.
She seemed as shocked as I was that he was married and had no idea he was friends with Evander. It was over for me and Winston right then and there. I was sick of him embarrassing me.
When I filed for divorce, Winston acted like he didn’t care, but once he realized I was serious, he wouldn’t cooperate. What should have been a short, uncomplicated process was drawn out for two years. It was a grueling experience.
Once my divorce was final, I wanted to do something to celebrate. My friends were busy with their husbands, children, and jobs, so I didn’t want to ask them to join me in New Orleans. I understood how difficult it might be to plan a trip at the last minute.
I’d never taken a trip alone and had always wanted to visit New Orleans, so I thought it would be the perfect trip to move forward with my plans. The first night, I had a ball walking through the French Quarters. I enjoyed some excellent food and had a few fantastic drinks, making sure not to drink too much because I was alone and wanted to be aware of my surroundings.
This morning, I found a cute brunch spot called Ruby Slipper and damn near ate myself into a stupor. I definitely planned to dine there again before heading back to Chicago. I spent the afternoon at the Mardi Gras museum, after which I took a nap.
When I woke up, my stomach was growling, so I ventured to the French Quarters and stumbled upon this restaurant and a familiar face… a handsome, familiar face. A face I wouldn’t mind sitting on if the opportunity arose, if for no other reason than to get back at Winston. He’d have a stroke if he knew I’d fucked one of his friends.
“I’m starting my life over at the ripe old age of thirty-seven.”
“If you think thirty-seven is old and ripe, I’d hate to know what you think about forty-two.”
“Older men are considered distinguished. Older women are just considered… old.”
“Only to immature, mentally underdeveloped men. Keep living, beautiful. I promise you, the best is yet to come. Tell me more about you.”
“There’s not much else to tell.”
“Oh, I highly doubt that. What do you do for a living?”
“I’m a paralegal at a small law firm.”
“You like it?”
“I do. It can be demanding sometimes, but it kept my mind off Win—”
“Stop. I told you we aren’t talking about him. Don’t mention his name again in my presence.”
His eyes became dark, and his voice was stern. He didn’t know me well enough to be talking to me like that, but it made my nipples hard, so I let it slide.
“My job can be demanding depending on the cases we’re working on. There are four lawyers at the firm, with four full-time and two part-time paralegals. It’s a pleasant work environment.”
“That’s good.”
“What about you?”
“Evander and I own a finance company.”
“Oh, so you’re the head man in charge.”
“We run the company together, but I guess you can say that.”
“Impressive.”
“I appreciate that.”
“Do you like being a business owner?”
“It’s a lot of work, but I’d rather own my business than work for someone else. I worked for other companies for several years before partnering with Evander to start our own. I like this much better.”
The server arrived with our food, and Clinton said a quick blessing before we dug in. Neither of us spoke until we’d taken a few bites. My jambalaya was delicious, and he seemed to be enjoying his crawfish etouffee.
“How long will you be here?” he asked.
“Four more days.”
“You’re going to bring in the new year alone in a strange city?”
“It won’t be the first time I brought in the new year alone. The only difference this time is that I’m not in Chicago.”
He didn’t respond right away, but the way he looked at me spoke volumes. It was like he could read my mind or see into my soul. I looked down at my food because the last thing I needed was for him to know what I was thinking or feeling.
“What do you have planned?” he asked, picking up his phone and pressing the screen several times.
I shrugged and took a sip of my wine. “To be a tourist, I guess. Did you get to do anything fun during your visit?”
“Unfortunately not. I was tapped out at the end of each day but did have a few great meals.”
“That’s too bad.”
“I’ve been here a few times, so I don’t feel I missed out. It’s a beautiful city, so I’m sure you’ll enjoy yourself.”
We continued to chat about various topics. Clinton told me his parents had been married for forty-six years, and he had a younger sister who was married with a daughter and son. Even though his sister had children, his family bugged him often about when he would settle down and have some of his own.
I shared with him that I was my mother’s only child, but I gained two stepsisters in my twenties when my mother married my stepfather. I also had a younger half-brother whose mother was my father’s current wife.
“Are you close with any of your siblings?”
“I talk to my brother a few times a week, and we see each other a few times a year. He stayed in Columbia after he finished college. He’s not married and doesn’t have any children, but he’s dating someone seriously.”
“What about your stepsisters?”
I shrugged. “We’re cool, but not very close. I see them at family functions, but that’s it. Are you and your sister close?”
“Yes, and so are all of us cousins. We spent so much time together growing up, we can’t help but be.”
“That’s good. My mother’s family lives all over the U.S., and my father wasn’t the most present father, so I don’t know either of their families very well. I bet it’s cool having such a close-knit family.”
“It is. Almost every family gathering is a big deal because there are quite a few of us.”
By this time, I was sipping my third glass of wine and feeling nice. Clinton was on the third or fourth glass of whatever he was drinking. We’d finished our food, and Clinton ordered beignets to go while I passed on dessert.
“What are you about to do now?” he asked.
“Probably go back to my room. I wasn’t expecting to be here for that long, and since I’m alone, I don’t want to be out so late.”
“That’s understandable. Is your hotel nearby? I’ll walk you.”