When Love Takes Over

Chapter 1

“Malyah, this is so good. Your hands are magical,” Anika, a coworker I’d become cool with, said.

Last night, I was inspired to make mini cheesecakes with crushed Biscoff cookies for the crust and a special mix I’d created using Biscoff cookie butter as a part of the filling. My boyfriend, Cole, loved it, so I made enough for the staff and brought them to work.

“Thank you. I’m glad everyone is enjoying it.”

“Girl, please. Every time you bring us a dessert, it disappears within minutes. I don’t know why you don’t start selling them.”

“Because I don’t want to get fired. I’m sure the company has a non-compete clause.”

I worked in the corporate office for Sweet, Savory, and Goode, a popular Black-owned dessert chain across Illinois, based in Chicago. They made the most delicious desserts in the city, and I aspired to work for them as a pastry chef someday.

For now, I worked as their head cook and was responsible for coming up with and preparing the daily breakfast and lunch menus. I enjoyed my job because I loved being in the kitchen, and while I was a great cook in general, my passion was desserts.

“What you need to do is go to the boss’s office with one of these desserts and introduce yourself. After one bite, he’ll be offering you a promotion.”

“That sounds a little too easy. Things like that don’t happen to people like me. Nothing in my life has ever come that easy.”

Anika smacked her lips.

“Think positively, Malyah. You’re talented, and one day soon, your talent will be discovered. Mark my words. Registering for your classes yesterday is only the beginning.”

I pondered her words for a moment and prayed she was right. Sometimes, I felt like my life was a series of unfortunate events, and I was ready for something great to happen.

“I hope you’re right.”

“What’s all the commotion over here?” I heard a male voice ask.

When I spotted who it was, I almost panicked.

“Oh, shit. I gotta go.”

“Malyah, wait! Now’s your chance,” Anika called out, but she was talking to my back.

The voice I heard was Kenzo Goode III, the grandson of the man who started the company and the son of the man who currently ran it, who would soon be retiring so Kenzo III could take over. He was the last person I wanted to converse with about my dessert.

“Bye, Anika!”

I moved through the cafeteria swiftly until I made it to the kitchen and my small office in the back. I’d sworn the staff to secrecy and hoped no one ratted me out. I gathered my things and headed to the back door that led to the employee parking lot. A few minutes later, I was headed home.

Most days, after lunch, I stuck around for about an hour, doing one thing or another. I probably would’ve done the same today, but I didn’t want to chance Kenzo coming to find me. Hopefully, he’d forget all about the dessert by the time he left for the day.

It wasn’t that I didn’t think he would enjoy my desserts, because they were good, but I needed them to be better than anything he’d ever tasted.

At least once a week, I went to the company website to read the job description for a pastry chef.

I didn’t think the requirements would change, but it was a reminder of what I had to do to qualify for that position.

Sweet, Savory, and Goode could have been nationwide, but chose not to expand outside Illinois to maintain the quality and integrity of what they offered. Some might not understand why the owners chose not to have locations in multiple states, but I did, and I appreciated it.

By the time I made it home, my bladder was about to explode. I parked in my designated parking spot and rushed into the building, then up two flights of stairs to the unit I shared with my roommate.

After letting myself in, I dropped my purse by the door and hurried into the bathroom, making it to the toilet just in time. I blew out a breath and sighed with relief as I emptied my bladder.

A few minutes later, I washed my hands and retraced my steps back to the front door to get my purse. I dug my phone out of the bottom and called Cole but was startled when I faintly heard ringing in our living room.

I followed the sound and found his phone between the couch cushions. Baffled as hell, I ended my call and looked around the apartment, wondering why his phone would be here, but he wasn’t, . . . or was he?

The thought of going through his phone crossed my mind, but I didn’t want to waste the time or energy. If Cole were in this apartment right now, there was only one place he could be, so I quietly crept to my roommate’s bedroom and placed my ear against the door.

Janie worked third shift and arrived home shortly after I left each morning. Cole and I left together, and as far as I knew, he was headed to work. The only reason his phone would be in here was if he circled back when Janie arrived home.

Slowly, I turned the doorknob and peeked through the crack. When my suspicions were confirmed, I pushed the door open with every ounce of strength in me, and it slammed against the wall. As soon as Cole sat up, I aggressively threw his phone at his face and was grateful my aim was spot on.

Cole groaned, and Janie popped up looking confused. Both were naked as the day they were born, and it took them a minute to process that they’d been discovered, and when they did, they scrambled.

“Baby, it’s not what you think,” was the first thing out of Cole’s mouth.

I was angry, hurt, and confused, but never in a million years would I allow either of them to see it. As they rushed around in panic, I went to my room, grabbed my two suitcases and a few duffel bags, and threw inside as many of my belongings as I could.

Cole came into my room, with his hand covering his nose, trying to stop me while apologizing and attempting to explain that what I saw wasn’t what I saw. Janie stood in the doorway, looking guilty and dumbfounded. They both could kiss my entire ass.

I struggled to get the two suitcases and duffel bags from my room, down the hall, out the door, down two flights of stairs, and into my car. Janie didn’t dare follow me, but Cole continued to plead his case. I’d been silent because there was nothing to say.

“Cole, why are you still talking to me?” I questioned with anger filling my voice.

I leaned against the driver’s side door and folded my arms across my chest while waiting for his response. If I weren’t so pissed, I would’ve laughed at his bruised and swollen nose.

“This was a mistake, baby. I didn’t mean—”

“It wasn’t a mistake. You betrayed me in the worst way. For you to spend the last twenty minutes trying to convince me otherwise is worse than the act itself, because clearly you think I’m stupid.”

“I know you’re not stupid, Malyah. I made a mistake, but—”

“No. I made a mistake when I settled for your simple, no ambition having ass, and when I trusted that dizzy ho. Y’all are perfect for each other.”

I turned and opened my car door, only for Cole to push it shut before I could get inside.

Without turning around, I shoved my elbow into his stomach with all my might.

He groaned as his hand fell away from my car.

When I glanced over my shoulder, he was bent over, holding his stomach.

I took the opportunity to hop behind the wheel and drive away, but I had no idea where I was headed.

It took everything in me not to break down in front of Cole and Janie. Of course, I was angry and hurt by their actions, but what they did wasn’t what had me in tears, pulling over a few blocks from my apartment. It was the weight of not knowing what I would do next.

It was the first of the month, and not only had I just paid my half of the rent, but I’d also paid half of the tuition for my first semester of culinary school. My funds were extremely low, and I’d budgeted only enough to keep me afloat until payday on the fifteenth.

I needed a plan, and I needed one fast. I could get a decent room for tonight, but beyond that, my funds would run out quickly.

I had no credit because I’d screwed that up early in life, and although I made good money, a portion of my pay was being garnished to cover financial commitments I couldn’t pay years ago.

“Ugh!” I screamed in frustration, banging my hands against the steering wheel. “I’m tired! I’m so fucking tired! What did I do to deserve this life?”

Every time my life seemed to be moving in a positive direction, something happened to remind me that I didn’t deserve good things.

I was clearly suffering from whatever I did in my past life, and it was honestly pissing me off.

I was sick of getting excited about my future, only to have my present slap me in the face.

“I can’t keep doing this. How much more can I handle before I lose it? It would be easier to give up. God, I need help!”

I sat there for a few more minutes to gather myself, picking up my phone. My circle was small, meaning I didn’t have one. I thought Janie and I were cool, but I never considered her a friend. We worked together at my previous job, and her roommate moved out unexpectedly.

At the time, I was staying in a rundown building because it was all I could afford. When she announced she was looking for a roommate, I jumped at the opportunity.

I probably should’ve found out why her old roommate moved out to make sure there was no shady shit going on. At least my name wasn’t on the lease, and I didn’t have to worry about that biting me in the ass later. I already owed enough people.

It was water under the bridge, and I couldn’t dwell on it. That chapter of my life was over, and if I didn’t plan to take myself out, I had no choice but to move forward. As I pulled away from the curb, I thought about calling my mother, but quickly pushed that thought out of my mind.

One conversation with her would probably send me over the edge I was already teetering on.

I hadn’t spoken to her in over six years, and I wasn’t sure when or if I ever would again.

I missed her with everything in me, but she made choices that showed me who she truly was, and, as difficult as it was, I had to go no contact.

If I knew who my father was, I’d find him and pray he’d accept me with open arms, but his identity had always been a mystery. No matter how often I asked my mother who he was, she never told me. I figured she harbored negative feelings about my conception and eventually stopped asking.

When I made it to Oak Lawn, a Southwest suburb of Chicago, I found a hotel room for $100 per night, including taxes. After checking in, I brought in my duffel bags because what I’d need for tonight and in the morning to prepare for work was inside.

I showered, put on an oversized T-shirt, and spent the remainder of the evening looking for a second job and an affordable place to stay that would be available immediately.

I found a few restaurants looking for cooks, but it seemed I couldn’t afford any of the housing I’d seen, which was disheartening but not surprising.

Eventually, I fell asleep, grateful I had somewhere to lay my head for the night, because tomorrow would surely be different.