Chapter 16 #2
Finally, she picked up her glass and stood. “I need another drink.”
I huffed a dry laugh. “Of course you do. What happens when this child you’re going behind my back to have gets to be too much?
You gonna just take another drink then too? You’d have my game all fucked up because I’d be too worried you’re at home fixing
a fucking mimosa and putting it in the baby’s bottle.”
Her eyes went wide and she opened her mouth to say something, but closed it again and stormed out of the room.
Shit! That accusation was probably taking it too far, but then again . . . I massaged my temple, the remnants from the episode
in the shower lingering. The rough material of the cast scratched my skin, reminding me how I got here. I should be on the
court balling instead of doing whatever the fuck this was.
I released a long breath and considered simply going to bed since she’d been the one to do what she always accused me of doing.
But if she was drinking . . . there’d be no peace, so I’d might as well stay in it. It was time to hash it all out, or as
much as we could, depending on how drunk she got.
Downstairs, I found Sasha standing at the island, the bottle of Henny uncapped as she sipped from her refilled glass.
“You sound like them.” Her tone was flat, which was unlike her. Especially when we were in the middle of an argument.
“Them who?”
“My parents. You sound like them. ‘Sasha’s needy.’ ‘Sasha just wants, wants, wants.’ ‘Sasha’s immature and irresponsible.
’ ‘Sasha never thinks things through.’ ‘Sasha doesn’t make good decisions.
’ Sasha’s nothin’ but a fuckin’ burden that you’d rather not be around.
You just like, sound just like my parents.
” She slammed the glass down on the granite counter top and I was surprised it didn’t break.
Sasha pointed a finger at me and narrowed her eyes. “Yeah, I drink here and there, but for you to say . . . that was a fuckin’
low blow.”
I started to speak, to acknowledge the comment was out of pocket and apologize, but she continued on, stepping closer to peer
up at me.
“And. And . . . yes, I like things, and why is that a bad thing? I gave up my life for you!”
That comment made me jerk back. “What? I don’t even . . . what? When did I ask you to give up anything for me? Please explain
because clearly, I must have missed that fucking memo.”
She grabbed the bottle and poured another drink. “I was dancin’, Courtney. I was makin’ good fuckin’ money, and then when
we got married, I quit for you.” She punctuated the last part by pointing at me with the hand holding the glass. Some of the
liquid sloshed out, spilling onto the counter and her hand.
My frown deepened. “I didn’t ask you to do that shit. I never once made any demands of you. I didn’t fucking care!”
Sasha flicked the liquor from her hand before taking a long sip. “Be for real, Courtney. Who would want to say that their
wife worked the pole? I had to be a respectable wife for you! And I needed to look the part because I damn sure didn’t want
my presence to be an embarrassment to you.”
“Stop right there. Stop right fuckin’ there. When I met you, you were stripping. When I asked you out, you were stripping.
When I fucking proposed to you and we got married, you were stripping. So please tell me at what point I even remotely cared
about your job or made some comment about you needing to stop. Because I sure as hell don’t remember.”
She rolled her eyes and smacked her lips. “You didn’t have to say, but I knew that’s what you wanted.”
My head was spinning for a whole new reason. I stomped over to the other counter and yanked two sheets from the paper towel
roll. Back at the island I wiped the spilled Henny off the granite before dropping to a squat to dab up the spots she’d flicked
onto the floor. I needed something to do while I attempted to process what she was saying, and still it made not a lick of
sense.
“How the fuck did you get to that conclusion?” I asked, tossing the used paper towel into the trash. “Because you sure as
shit ain’t ask me what I thought. You made that decision, so please miss me with that ‘you gave up your life for me’ bullshit.”
I leaned down so I was eye to eye with her and placed my hands on her shoulders. I wanted to make sure I had her full attention
for the next words out of my mouth. “You dancing was never an embarrassment for me. If I’d had a problem with who you were,
and what you did, I wouldn’t have put a ring on it.”
Sasha shifted her weight from side to side and bit the corner of her lip before she blew out a hard exhale while rolling her
eyes. “That sounds all well and good, Courtney, but my parents—”
“I’m not your damn parents,” I said, throwing my hands in the air as I started pacing. “I get it, you started as a dig at
them, but that ain’t got shit to do with me and how I view what you did. And hell, if it’ll make you happy, go back. I’m sure
Viv would take you. Then you’d have something to do and you wouldn’t be needing to be up under me all the damn time.”
Her eyes widened and the liquid sloshed in the glass as it came to an abrupt stop before reaching her mouth.
“Is that really what you think of me? Of course it is, because you’re always trying to get away from me.
Just. Like. Them.” She swallowed the rest of her drink while glaring at me over the rim.
A merry-go-round of bullshit.
I scrubbed my hands down my face. “For fuck’s sake, Sash, you don’t hear shit I say. I’m working to keep you in the life of
luxury, not looking for reasons to ‘get away from you.’ What don’t you get about that? I love you, Sasha, I do. I really,
really do, but I can’t be everything for you.”
I walked over to the living room and dropped onto the couch and rested my head on the cushion. “It’s like I am sitting on
the beach digging the hole as the tide’s coming in, and every time I try to scoop the water out, more fills it. It’s just
like an endless endeavor, because I don’t know what you need from me to make you happy, and no matter how much I give you,
you want more.”
She came to stand in front of me, her eyes shimmering, and I knew she was on the brink of tears, and it made me feel like
shit. But it needed to be said. We needed a change. For better or worse, we needed a change.
“It’s the one thing you can’t seem to give me or don’t want to give me. Is it so much to ask that I want someone to love me
as much as Gomez loved Morticia? Why is that such a hard thing to fathom? Why can’t I have that? Why don’t you think I deserve
that? Why can’t I have you?”
Her voice cracked on the last part. A single tear rolled down her cheek, followed by a second, then a third. Sasha wasn’t
usually a crier, so she angrily swiped at each traitorous drop. Emotions were high for both of us, but I suspected hers were
more so due to the drinking.
I wrapped my fingers around her wrist and gently pulled her to sit next to me.
She slid her hand into mine and kept her focus down.
The fight seemed to be draining out of both of us.
There was so much in her statement, in her heartfelt words.
They were laced with a pain and sadness that I understood, considering her upbringing.
And the last thing I wanted was to hurt her. To make her feel unloved or undeserving of anything. It was clear somewhere along
the line we had a catastrophic disconnect because she didn’t seem to understand I was loving her with everything I had. And
not getting the same energy back in return. She had me. She had my all.
“My parents, they aren’t the best. They were, and remain, too wrapped up in themselves, which left little to no space for
me and Mya. But one thing that always remained true about them is that nothing, no matter what, not even their children, was
going to get in between them. They were ride or die for each other. And I want that.”
I lifted her chin to make eye contact. “My team won the championship, Sasha, and to this day you haven’t told me congratulations.
Do you know how much that guts me? To not have your wife acknowledge the biggest moment of your career?”
She blinked slow, then turned away. I blew out a breath, taking a moment before continuing. “So it goes both ways. I also
want someone who’s going to love me, be there for me, be ride or die for me, like Morticia is for Gomez. It works both ways.”