5. The Distraction
THE DISTRACTION
She sat in her car in the parking lot of the medical plaza, staring at her phone.
Reign hadn't texted her all day. Not a good morning.
Not a "how's work." Nothing. After the other night—after the fight, the makeup sex, the way he'd looked at her like he wanted to devour her—he'd been distant.
Polite but distant. Like he was afraid to get too close.
She didn't know what to do with that.
Her phone buzzed. For a second, her heart jumped, thinking it was him. But it was just a reminder about her car insurance payment.
Soreya locked her phone and leaned her head back against the seat, closing her eyes. She was so tired. Tired of waiting. Tired of wondering. Tired of feeling like she was losing her mind trying to figure out what was wrong with Reign when he wouldn't just tell her.
"Excuse me?"
She opened her eyes and looked up. A man was standing outside her car window, tall and clean-cut in a navy blue suit that looked expensive but not flashy. He had a Starbucks cup in one hand and his phone in the other, and he was smiling at her apologetically.
Soreya rolled down her window halfway. "Yeah?"
"I'm so sorry to bother you," he said, his voice smooth and professional. "But I think you dropped this in the coffee shop." He held up a black cardholder—Kate Spade, the one Reign had bought her last Christmas.
Soreya's eyes widened. She reached for her purse and realized it wasn't zipped all the way. "Oh my God, thank you." She took the cardholder from him, checking to make sure her cards were still inside. They were. "I didn't even realize?—"
"No problem." He smiled again, and it was genuine, warm. "I saw it fall when you were leaving. Figured I'd catch you before you drove off."
"I appreciate that. For real." She looked up at him, really looked at him for the first time.
He was fine—not Reign fine, not that dangerous, magnetic kind of fine that made women stupid.
But he was handsome in a different way. Clean-shaven.
Neat fade. Nice cologne that smelled like something you'd wear to a boardroom, not a club. He looked... stable.
"You work here?" he asked, gesturing toward the medical plaza.
"Yeah. Medical assistant." She didn't know why she was still talking to him. She should've thanked him and rolled up her window. But something about him felt safe. Normal. Like talking to him wouldn't end in chaos.
"That's dope. I work across the street." He nodded toward the office building on the other side of the parking lot. "Corporate finance. Boring as hell, but it pays the bills."
Soreya laughed, and it surprised her how easy it was. "At least you honest about it."
"Always." He shifted his coffee cup to his other hand and extended his right hand through the window. "I'm Truitt, by the way. Truitt Kade."
She shook his hand. His grip was firm but not aggressive. "Soreya."
"Soreya," he repeated, like he was testing how it sounded. "That's beautiful. You from Richmond?"
"Born and raised." She didn't know why she was still talking. Didn't know why she wasn't ending this conversation and going back to scrolling through her phone, waiting for Reign to text her. But Truitt was easy to talk to. He wasn't looking at her like he wanted something. He was just... there.
"Same. Southside originally, but I moved to the West End a few years ago." He glanced at his watch—a simple silver Movado, nothing too flashy—and grimaced. "I gotta get back to work, but it was nice meeting you, Soreya."
"You too. And thanks again for the cardholder."
"Anytime." He started to walk away, then turned back. "Hey, I know this might be forward, but if you ever wanna grab coffee or lunch on a break, let me know. I'm always looking for an excuse to get out of that office."
Soreya hesitated. She should say no. She had a man. A man she loved, even if he was driving her crazy. But Truitt wasn't asking her on a date. He was just being friendly. And God, she could use a friend right now. Someone who didn't make her feel like she was walking on eggshells.
"Yeah," she heard herself say. "That'd be cool."
Truitt smiled, pulled out his phone, and handed it to her. "Put your number in. I'll text you so you have mine."
She typed her number in and handed it back. He sent her a quick text—just a wave emoji—and then he was gone, walking back toward his office building with his coffee in hand.
Soreya sat in her car, staring at the text on her screen.
Truitt (2:14 PM):
She saved his number and locked her phone, her heart beating a little faster than it should've been.
It wasn't a big deal. It was just a number. Just a friendly gesture.
But she didn't tell herself that twice.
By the time Soreya got home that night, she was dead on her feet. She'd worked a ten-hour shift, dealt with a patient who yelled at her for something that wasn't her fault, and sat in traffic for forty-five minutes on 64. All she wanted was a shower, some food, and her bed.
Reign's house was dark when she pulled up. His car wasn't in the driveway.
Of course it wasn't.
She let herself in with her key, dropped her purse on the kitchen counter, and stood in the quiet for a moment. The house always felt too big when she was alone in it. Too cold. Too empty.
Her phone buzzed.
Truitt (7:32 PM): Hope your shift wasn't too rough. You looked exhausted earlier.
Soreya stared at the text. She should ignore it. Should put her phone down and not respond. But her fingers were already typing.
Soreya (7:33 PM): it was long as hell. but i survived lol
Truitt (7:34 PM): That's what matters. You eat yet?
Soreya (7:35 PM): not yet. bout to figure that out now
Truitt (7:36 PM): Make sure you do. Can't be running on empty like that.
It was such a simple thing to say. So basic. But it made her chest tighten because Reign never asked her if she'd eaten. Never checked in on her after a long shift. He was always too busy, too distracted, too caught up in whatever he was doing at the club.
Soreya (7:38 PM): you always this concerned about people you just met?
Truitt (7:39 PM): Only the ones who look like they need somebody to care.
Soreya's breath caught. She didn't know what to say to that. Didn't know how to respond without it sounding like she was flirting, even though she wasn't. She was just... talking.
Soreya (7:42 PM): i appreciate that
Truitt (7:43 PM): Anytime. For real.
She locked her phone and set it on the counter, her hands shaking slightly. This was nothing. Just a conversation. Just a guy being nice.
But it didn't feel like nothing.
Two days later, Soreya met Truitt for coffee.
She told herself it was innocent. Told herself she was just meeting a friend, someone to talk to who wasn't Vesper or one of her coworkers. Someone who didn't know Reign, didn't know their history, didn't have opinions about what she should or shouldn't do.
They met at a Starbucks near the medical plaza, and when she walked in, Truitt was already there, sitting at a table by the window with two cups in front of him.
"I didn't know what you liked, so I got you a caramel macchiato," he said, standing up when she approached. "But if that's not your thing, I can get you something else."
"No, that's perfect." Soreya sat down across from him, wrapping her hands around the warm cup. "Thank you."
"Of course." He sat back down, and for a moment, they just looked at each other. He was wearing a gray button-down and black slacks, his tie loosened like he'd just gotten off work. He looked good. Professional. Put together.
Nothing like Reign.
"So," Truitt said, leaning back in his chair. "How you been? You look less exhausted than the other day."
Soreya laughed. "I got some sleep finally. That help."
"I bet." He took a sip of his coffee, his eyes never leaving hers. "You always work those long shifts?"
"Most of the time. It's just how it is in healthcare. Somebody always calling out, somebody always need coverage." She shrugged. "I'm used to it."
"That don't mean it's fair, though."
"No," she admitted. "It don't."
They talked for an hour. About work, about Richmond, about nothing and everything.
Truitt told her about his job in corporate finance, how he'd worked his way up from an entry-level position to a senior analyst role.
He talked about his family—his mama who still lived in Southside, his younger sister who was in nursing school.
He asked about her life, and she found herself opening up in ways she hadn't expected.
She told him about her job, about her goals to go back to school eventually. She told him about her mama's health issues, about how she was trying to save money but it was hard when bills kept piling up.
She didn't tell him about Reign.
Not at first.
But then Truitt asked, casually, "You got somebody?"
Soreya hesitated. She could lie. Could say no. But something about Truitt made her want to be honest.
"Yeah," she said quietly. "I do."
Truitt nodded slowly, his expression unreadable. "He treat you right?"
The question hit her harder than it should have. She looked down at her coffee, her throat tight. "Sometimes."
Truitt leaned back in his chair, his expression thoughtful. "What's he do? For work, I mean."
"He owns some clubs," Soreya said, stirring her coffee even though she'd already added sugar. "Lounges, hookah spots. That type of thing."
"Oh yeah?" Truitt's tone was casual, interested. "Which ones? I might've been to 'em."
"After Dark is his main spot. Then Smoke & Gold, couple other places around the city."
"After Dark?" Truitt's eyebrows raised slightly. "That's the one off Broad, right? Big spot. Always packed on weekends."
"Yeah, that's it."
"He must be doing well then." Truitt took a sip of his coffee. "That's a lot to manage. What's his schedule like? I imagine club owners work crazy hours."
Soreya shifted in her seat. "Yeah, he's... he's out most nights. Usually don't get home til like four, five in the morning."
"Damn. Every night?"
"Pretty much."