EIGHTEEN
My body is ablaze with both guilt and lust. I rush into the bathroom, remove my clothes and soaked panties, and take a warm shower.
I can’t believe Kross had me on the phone dishing intimate details while touching myself. I’m not sure how I’ll move on from what I did.
Drying off, I haul on my long tee and call Trishell.
“Hey, cuz,” she chirps. “How’s Paris?”
“Trish,” I groan, sitting at the foot of my bed.
“What’s wrong, cuz? Talk to me.”
Gripping the fabric, I swallow the lump in my throat and come out with it. “Is phone sex still cheating?”
“What?” she shrieks. “You had phone sex with Kross? I knew your ass couldn’t avoid him. I saw the twinkle in your eyes when you told me about the rooftop.”
I pick at the hem of the tee while revealing the rest. “He gave me his number before I left for Paris. I called him every day. Tonight, he somehow managed to coerce me into masturbating while detailing what I want him to do to me.”
“Shiiiiit,” she stretches, chuckling softly.
I ruffle my hair. “Trish, it’s not funny. How do I get past this? Why did I even do that?”
“You’re attracted to him,” she stresses as if I’m unaware. “It was a lapse in judgment. What did Kross say?”
“He promised to keep it a secret.”
“Well, there you have it. What happens in Paris stays in Paris. Just move on and forget about it. You still want to be with Jamir?”
“Yes, of course.” And yet, my answer lacks strength.
There’s a delay before Trishell harrumphs. “Okay, then, don’t mention what happened. Let it be nothing.”
It doesn’t feel like nothing .
“Okay,” I mutter, inhaling and exhaling deeply.
I wince as the door unlocks. Iree enters, face flushed from drinking. Her bob still has an edgy wet look that pairs well with her faux leather jacket, cowl-neck green top, black tights, and matching heels.
“I’ll see you when I get back,” I tell Trishell.
“All right, kinky girl,” she jokes.
I hang up on her, managing a smile. “Hey.”
“Hi, D.” Iree sways while removing her heels.
“You good?” I check, stepping closer.
She waves it off. “Yeah, I had a great time. Are you good? You came back early.”
“Just tired.” I place my phone on the nightstand and climb into bed.
She remains in the spot, observing me. “You know, I admire you.”
“Oh, you do?” I feel unworthy of any admiration after cheating on my boyfriend.
“Mmhm.” She beams at me. “You’ve inspired me to go after what I want, including Kross.”
My stomach plunges. My ears are ringing like a loud explosion went off by my head. “Kross… is the man you have feelings for?”
“Yes,” she replies softly. “I’m in love with him.”
“Huh.”
“Don’t tell him if you see him,” she rushes to say. “I’ll do it when the time’s right. Anyway. I’ll shower and sort my things.”
She turns into the bathroom, leaving me replaying her confession.
Iree is in love with Kross . It’d hurt her if she learned what we did on the phone. For her sake and Jamir’s, I absolutely must put an end to this attraction.
The flight home seems longer with my racing thoughts. I keep repeating the dirty moment on the phone, how I’ll face Jamir knowing I cheated, and Iree’s confession. I can’t shake the sting of jealousy from her gushing over Kross.
Finally back in Baltimore, Chavonne and Wren file into the awaiting Lexus while the others do rideshare, leaving Iree and me.
“Your brother’s late picking you up, too?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “Cai had a shift at the hospital. He’s an anesthetist. Kross is almost here, though.”
“Oh.” Tingles attack my entire body. How will I make eye contact after we’ve both heard each other come while having phone sex?
“Is Jamir on his way?” Iree questions, scanning the pick-up area.
“Uh, should be. Let me call to see where he’s at.”
He answers immediately. “I’m sorry, babe. I got caught up. Signing these, then I’m leaving the office.”
“So I’ll be waiting another twenty minutes?”
“I’m sorry. Maybe you should have taken Uber.”
“You know—” Butterflies replace my annoyance as the familiar black BMW pulls up. “Hang on.”
Kross hops out to help Iree with her luggage, grinning at me. “Hey, Davia. Welcome back.”
I duck my gaze shyly.
“If Jamir’s far,” Iree says, opening the passenger door, “you should ride with us. You don’t mind, right Kross?”
He shakes his head. “I’d hate to leave you here.”
The overpowering rush to be in his presence has me telling Jamir, “It’s okay. I’ll ride with Iree.”
“Oh,” he sighs. “Okay. I’m sorry, babe.”
“It’s fine.”
“I’ll come by your place after work.”
“All right.” I slip the phone into my bag and tell Kross, “Thank you.”
“It’s no problem.” He winks, sets my suitcase in the back, and closes the door once I climb in.
“Where to, Davia?” he asks as he drives off. I appreciate that he’s keeping his word and acting normal.
“Lakeland Park.”
“Paris was so amazing,” Iree gushes. “I can’t thank you enough, D.”
“Yeah, it’s kind of you. I’ll have to treat you soon.”
“ We should,” Iree corrects, emphasizing the word.
“That’s not necessary.” I stare out the window to avoid looking at him.
“I’ll drop you off first, Ree,” he states. “Since we’re coming up to Mama G’s first.”
“Mama G?” I inquire.
“That’s my gran,” Iree explains, voice full of love. “She raised us, including Kross.”
“She’s an angel,” he adds.
Their grandma also raised him? I’m curious how that happened.
As Kross pulls up at a charming blue bungalow, a short older woman with a bronzy tone like Iree steps onto the porch, wearing a headwrap and lounge attire.
“Come say hi, D,” Iree urges as they exit the car.
I climb out, approaching with Kross after he removes her suitcase from the back.
“Hey, my babies,” the lovely woman greets.
“Hi, Gran.” Iree leans into her snug embrace. “Mmm. You smell like home.”
She lets out a gritty laugh. “How was your trip?”
“One I’ll never forget.” Iree motions to me. “This is—”
“Mama G, this is Davia,” Kross beats her to it. “A big-time designer at La Monte .”
I snort. “Nice to meet you, Mrs—”
“Call me Mama G,” she says, shaking my hand. “Davia, huh.” The look she casts in Kross’s direction stirs the suspicion she’s no stranger to my name. “Hm. Come in for lunch.”
“I’d hate to trouble you, Mama G. I’m vegan.”
“It’s no trouble, hon,” she assures me. “I have freshly baked buns with no dairy, barbecue cauliflower bites, and a black-eyed pea salad. Any of that interests you?”
“Those do sound good.”
“Come on in then.” She and Iree enter the house.
Kross bumps my side playfully. “Trust me. You don’t want to turn down her food.”
“I am hungry after a long morning.” I follow him into the warm and cozy home, feeling love in the air. As they enter the kitchen, I stall to view the pictures on the walls, noticing a bunch with Kross. He truly is part of the family.
“Here you go, hon,” Mama G says as I sit beside Iree at the table. She sets a plate before me, and I dig in when she joins us.
“Mm. It’s delicious, ma’am. Thank you.”
She beams in return. “Always good to hear that.”
I notice Kross observing with a pleased expression while he eats. “Mama G hooked me with her good cooking. No way I could leave her home.”
“He was so scrawny,” Iree teases. “You should have seen him.”
Kross hisses at her. “Chill with that. I wasn’t.”
“Mmhm.” She chuckles under her breath and continues eating.
“My house was always full when they were kids,” Mama G reminisces. “Kids loved it here ‘cause I always had food.”
“Just like my grandparents’ house,” I smile at the similarity.
“It’s quiet these days. Only my grandbabies and my son Falcon are eating here now. He should be coming in any minute from work.”
Right on cue, a man who looks to be in his fifties enters through the kitchen door in a plaid shirt and blue jeans, a grin on his auburn face as he oozes at the food. “Hey, Mama.” He pauses on me. “Who’s this pretty young thing?”
“Davia,” Mama G and Kross answer simultaneously and look at each other.
“This is my son, Falcon,” Mama G introduces us.
“Hi, Mr. Falcon,” I say politely. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“ Davia ,” he sings, coming over to shake my hand. “Such a beautiful woman.” He grins at Kross approvingly.
“She is beautiful,” Kross utters under his breath, and I hear Iree huff beside me.
“Don’t mess it up,” Mr. Falcon advises.
“Oh, we’re—”
“They’re just friends,” Mama G fans him off before I finish explaining. “Go eat.”
Chuckling, Mr. Falcon fills his plate and sits at the other end of the table, wiggling at the first forkful.
We get to talking, and amid all the laughs brought on by Mother and son’s playful banter, I learn she’s seventy-eight, her eldest son is the one who died, the father of both boys left her when they were young and didn’t show up until the funeral. Mr. Falcon has nineteen-year-old twin daughters attending college in New York. He confirms he and the mom aren’t together because he mentions hitting it off with someone at Krossfire .
I find their family so resilient. The fact that they can smile at memories and not tear up every second is admirable.
It makes me even more curious about Kross’s story. He hasn’t shared much except for life growing up here, with Iree throwing in playful taunts. Whenever she talks about moments with him, it turns me bitter.
As the conversations wind down, I glimpse the clock on the wall and realize I’ve been here almost two hours. “I should get going. I have to buy groceries.”
“All right.” Mama G stands to see me off. “It was lovely meeting you, dear. You’re welcome to stop by again.”
“She’ll be back,” Mr. Falcon chuckles slyly, looking between Kross and me.
Mama G throws him a scolding look.
“Thank you,” I smile at her. “It was so good meeting you and Mr. Falcon. Lunch was delicious. Take care.”
Iree squeezes my arm. “Thanks again, D.”
“No problem. See you at work.” I wave and walk outside with Kross, climbing into the passenger side after he opens the door for me.
“Alone at last,” he jokes as he drives off.
Secretly, I like that it’s only us. But I’m nervous he’ll mention last night.
“I’ll bring you to the grocery store before driving you home,” he offers.
“You don’t have to. I’ve already taken up your time.”
“Just accept and stop being humble,” he jokingly scolds me. “That way, you can relax.”
I concede to his kindness. “Thank you. I shop at the local market in my neighborhood. Sanders .”
“I know the spot.” He turns at the intersection that leads to Lakeland Park. “Still coming to the youth center tomorrow? If you’re too tired, changing your mind is okay.”
The best thing is probably to avoid him, but that’s hard. “I’m good. I don’t want to cancel on the kids. I’m looking forward to hanging with them.”
“So are they.” He flashes me a quick smile that makes me turn away. “Will I see you at the club soon?”
I pick at my jeans. “Not sure. It’ll be busy at the office now that we’re starting work on the next launch, including my line. Chavonne’s taking a huge chance on me. I don’t want to disappoint her.”
“I’m sure you won’t. Congratulations again.”
“Thank you.” Our eyes lock in the brief second I look over, and it’s enough to cause a flutter. “So, how come Mama G raised you?”
“It’s a long story.”
“Always is, huh.” I discern sorrow in his expression. I wonder what happened to his parents.
Reaching the grocery store, Kross accompanies me inside and pushes the cart.
“I can’t stop thinking about how you called me from Paris. All three nights.”
My pulse spikes, and I rifle through the avocados while battling the emotions. What do I even say?
“So…” He shifts a little closer. I shiver, drawing a sniff from him. “Why wasn’t your man waiting at the airport?”
Finding a bit of composure, I place the bag of avocados in the cart and answer without meeting his gaze, “Jamir got caught up at work.”
He follows me to the apples. “That’s his lame excuse? You deserve better.”
“J’s a good man,” I state, struggling to open the plastic bag. “He’s doing a lot to grow his career.”
Kross takes the bag from me to open it, watching me intensely as he hands it back. “He’s neglecting you in the midst.”
“Let’s not talk about my relationship.” I drop the apples in the cart and move to the leafy greens, picking up a large container.
“Let’s talk about us then.”
A nervous breath slips out. “Kross, there’s no us.”
He smirks. “Why did your lips quiver?”
“No, they didn’t.” I try to push the cart to the non-dairy section, but he does it for me.
“The sounds you made,” he whispers, causing heat to bite my skin. “They’re ingrained in my head forever.”
“Uhh…” I nearly drop the carton of almond milk.
Kross grips it, and our eyes lock. Smiling, he sets the milk in the cart. “Almost caused another spill.”
His comment makes me gasp. “Look, what happened on the phone was—”
“Paris,” he interjects with a sly grin and licks his lips. “Let’s see what happens in Baltimore. In person.”
“Nothing will happen.”
He narrows his gaze. “Whatever you say, Davi.”
Blinking away, I catch my breath and finish shopping. We load my groceries onto the conveyor belt. I’m about to retrieve my card when Kross pays for me. “It’s over a hundred. You don’t—”
“You’ll never use your money with me,” he says, tone and expression adamant.
“Ooh,” the cashier gushes. “Okay, sis.” Great. She thinks he’s my man. If I come here with Jamir, she’ll call me a ho. She hands me the receipt while bobbing approvingly. “Have a great evening.”
“We will,” Kross replies smoothly. “You too.”
Sighing, I follow him as he pushes the cart aside and picks up the two bags to carry to his car.
“I’ll pay you back,” I say after buckling up.
“Davi, don’t worry about it.” He starts the engine. “Now let me try that oat chocolate bar you took out.”
A smile curls my lips as I open the pack and break off a piece of the chocolate, handing it to him.
“Mmm. It’s pretty good.” He drives off from the store and heads for my apartment.
Realizing something, I say, “You call me Davi when no one we know is around.”
“Cause it’s just for us.”
He reaches my apartment as I’m about to address the statement, and my stomach tightens when I see Jamir leaning against his Range Rover. He’s early.
Noticing me in Kross’s SUV, he quickly straightens with his face screwed up.
“Shit.” He’s about to flip. Why didn’t he wait inside?
“That him?” Kross confirms in a flat tone.
“Yes.” I swallow hard and exit the SUV, grabbing the two paper bags with my groceries.
Jamir shifts in the spot while watching Kross take my suitcase from the back. He looks ready to fight.
“Who the hell is this?” he demands, pointing at him.
“This is Kross. He picked up Iree at the airport and offered me a ride since you were late.”
“The club owner?” he realizes.
“Sup, man?” Kross greets him coolly as if he wasn’t flirting with me minutes ago or made me come on the phone last night.
Furious, Jamir snatches my suitcase and grips my arm, almost making me drop the grocery bags.
“Ease up, bruh,” Kross warns, his jaw tightening. “You all right, Davia?”
“Why wouldn’t she be?” Jamir snarls. “Get in your car and get the fuck out of here.”
A murderous look fogs his eyes as he edges closer. “Don’t fucking talk to me like that, bruh.”
“I’ll talk to you however—”
“Stop it!” I implore and twist to Kross, telling him, “Thank you. I’m all right.”
His eyes remain intense. “You want me to leave?”
“The fuck?” Jamir scoffs.
“Please go,” I urge Kross, even though my heart doesn’t want that.
He sniffs and walks back to his car, giving me another look before peeling off.
“We need to talk.” Jamir storms up the stairs to my apartment, marching inside after I unlock the door. He drops the suitcase on the rug and turns to me with his arms folded tightly. “I can’t believe you pulled up with the same man you chilled with at the club.”
I place the grocery bags on the kitchen island. “Kross is Iree’s friend. I told you he picked her up at the airport.”
“Bullshit!” he barks. “That was hours ago, and Iree wasn’t in that car. He brought you home. Have you invited him in before?”
“What the hell?” I throw my hands up. “No. Why were you standing outside, anyway?”
“Left the key at my place. I tried calling you, but your phone’s off.” He glares at me. “I wonder why.”
Sucking my teeth, I take my phone out to check. “The battery died.”
“You realize that now ?” he grunts, inching closer. “You fucking him, Davia?”
My eyes widen. “Are you serious? Weren’t you the one just at a country club with women?”
He wipes his mouth roughly. “I left work sooner to surprise you since you complained we’re not spending time together. But it seems you’re spending time with that loser.”
“Don’t call him that,” I defend Kross. “Had your ass been on time at the airport, he wouldn’t have brought me home. So check your bullshit instead of coming at me.”
“I wouldn’t be suspicious of your behavior if you weren’t hanging with that man!”
“You know what? Leave.” I yank the door open.
His jaw clenches. “You fucking serious right now?”
“Yes! Fucking leave!”
Without another word, he storms out and slams the door behind him.
My emotions are all over the place, and I can’t handle looking into his eyes after touching myself for Kross the night before.
Sighing, I plug my phone on charge, wait a few seconds, and power it on to check if I missed anyone else. As the lock screen loads, a text from my mom pops up.
MA: Dinner at my condo
tonight @ 8.
Bring my gifts from Paris.
She thinks of me only when she wants something .
My shoulders wilt from exhaustion. Neither my mom nor my man brings me joy.