Chapter 7 #3
Which should have warned me.
Because anytime life starts acting too pretty, somebody with lip gloss and unresolved bitterness is usually looking for parking.
Latrice arrived at 9:17.
I know because I looked at my phone when the room shifted.
She walked in wearing a red dress tight enough to require teamwork and heels tall enough to see tomorrow. Hair laid. Makeup flawless. Smile fake. Phone in hand.
Of course.
Tameka appeared at my side like security with earrings.
“Oh, absolutely not,” she said.
Kee-Kee came from the other direction. “I felt foolishness in my left knee.”
Mrs. Pearl looked over from VIP. “Is that the internet girl?”
I took a deep breath. “Everybody calm down.”
Tameka stared at me. “You calm down. I’m from the Old Testament tonight.”
Latrice scanned the room until her eyes found me.
Then she smiled.
Not friendly.
Not even pretend.
A challenge.
I felt every old version of myself rise up. The girl who had been embarrassed. The woman who had been cheated on. The friend who had been betrayed by somebody smiling in her face while sharpening a knife behind her back.
But I also felt something else.
Eric’s hand brushing mine.
His voice saying, “We’ll be scared honest.”
His apology.
His proof.
His patience.
I was not the dumb girl.
And I did not have to act like one to prove it.
Latrice walked over slowly, hips swinging like she had rehearsed in a hallway.
“Monica,” she said. “You look cute.”
I smiled. “Thank you. You look flammable.”
Tameka choked.
Kee-Kee coughed into her hand.
Latrice’s smile flickered. “Still funny.”
“Still trying.”
She looked around. “You decorated?”
“I did.”
“It’s nice. Very… ambitious.”
“That word too big for the insult you were reaching for.”
A few people nearby went quiet.
Latrice’s eyes sharpened. “Girl, I didn’t come here for all that.”
“No, you came here dressed like a fire alarm to see if anybody would evacuate.”
Somebody snorted.
Latrice leaned closer. “You think you won something?”
“No, Latrice. That’s the difference between me and you. I don’t see people as prizes.”
Her face hardened.
“You barely know that man,” she said, voice low but not low enough. “Don’t be out here acting like you special.”
I looked at her.
Really looked at her.
And suddenly, she didn’t seem powerful.
She seemed tired.
Tired from competing with women who were not fighting her. Tired from chasing men who didn’t choose her. Tired from needing a reaction to feel relevant.
That did not make me pity her enough to let her disrespect me, but it did keep me from going completely street prophet.
I smiled softly.
“Latrice, baby, you posted comments, edited videos, went live, and still had to come here in person because none of it made you feel chosen.”
The room went silent.
Even the music seemed to lower itself.
Her mouth opened.
I kept going, voice calm.
“I’m not your enemy because Eric didn’t want what you wanted. And I’m not going to fight you over a man who already spoke for himself. So enjoy the lounge, buy something if your card agrees, and stop auditioning for a role nobody cast you in.”
Tameka whispered, “Jesus.”
Kee-Kee said, “With diction.”
Latrice’s face went hot with embarrassment.
For one second, I thought she might throw her drink.
Then Eric was beside me.
Not in front of me.
Beside me.
That mattered.
He looked at Latrice, voice calm but final. “You need to leave.”
She laughed bitterly. “Of course you taking her side.”
“This ain’t sides. This is my business, and you came here to disrespect somebody I care about.”
Care about.
My heart tripped.
Latrice looked around, realizing the room was not with her.
Not this time.
She turned sharply and walked toward the door, but not before muttering, “Y’all cute.”
Tameka smiled. “We know.”
When Latrice left, the room slowly came back to life. Music rose. People started talking again. Somebody laughed too loud, releasing the tension.
Eric turned to me.
“You okay?”
I nodded. “Yeah.”
“You sure?”
“I didn’t even throw nothing.”
His smile broke through. “Growth.”
“I’m proud of me.”
“You should be.”
Tameka grabbed my arm. “I am proud of you, but I also had my shoe half off.”
Kee-Kee nodded. “I had scripture and backup.”
Mrs. Pearl raised her glass from VIP. “I had bail money in my bra.”
I looked around at them and laughed.
Really laughed.
The kind that came from relief.
Eric watched me, and for once, I let him.
Later, after the crowd thinned and the night softened, Eric found me near the rooftop door.
“Come upstairs with me?”
My stomach warmed.
“Eric.”
“Just for a minute.”
I looked at him.
His eyes were not playful now.
They were quiet.
Open.
Waiting.
I nodded.
We walked up to the rooftop together.
The city air wrapped around us, warm and soft. The string lights glowed overhead. Down below, the lounge still hummed with music and laughter. The same rooftop that had been turned into a weapon now felt like a witness.
I walked to the railing and looked out.
Eric stood beside me.
“You handled her better than I would have,” he said.
“I almost didn’t.”
“But you did.”
“She hurt me,” I admitted.
“I know.”
“Not because of you exactly. Because she knew how to make me feel like the old me.”
Eric’s hand found mine.
This time, he held it.
“I don’t know how to be the woman who trusts this fast,” I said. “I don’t know how to let myself believe a man can come into my life and mean what he says and not turn around and embarrass me later.”
“I’m not asking you to know how,” he said. “I’m asking you to let me learn with you.”
I looked up at him.
“That was dangerously sweet,” I whispered.
“It was honest.”
“Same thing with you.”
He smiled softly.
My chest felt full. Too full for jokes to cover.
“I’m scared,” I said.
“I know.”
“But I’m here.”
His thumb brushed over my knuckles. “I see that.”
“And I think…” I swallowed, hating how vulnerable my voice sounded. “I think I’m falling for you too.”
Eric went still.
Not shocked.
Hit.
Like the words landed somewhere deep and knocked the breath out of him.
He stepped closer. “Monica.”
This time, I didn’t tell him not to say my name like that.
I wanted it.
All of it.
His hand came to my waist, the other still holding mine.
“I know it’s fast,” I said.
“I don’t care.”
“I care.”
“I know.”
“I’m just saying—”
“I know what you’re saying.” His forehead touched mine. “And I’m right here.”
I closed my eyes.
For once, I didn’t feel like running.
For once, I didn’t feel stupid.
For once, the fear was still there, but it was not louder than the man holding my hand.
When Eric kissed me, it was slow.
No audience. No proof. No performance.
Just us under the lights, the city below, the block buzzing with life, and my heart finally admitting what my mouth had been trying to outrun since Big Ray’s.
I was in love with Eric Miller.
Fast.
Messy.
Ridiculous.
Real.
When the kiss ended, he stayed close.
“Come home with me,” he whispered.
My breath caught.
His eyes searched mine. “Not like that unless you want it. I just don’t want the night to end yet.”
I believed him.
That scared me and comforted me at the same time.
I looked toward the stairs, where music and laughter floated up from below.
Then back at Eric.
“I’ll come,” I said softly. “But only if you understand something.”
“What?”
“I’m not running anymore.”
His hand tightened around mine.
“Good,” he said.
“Don’t get cocky.”
“Too late.”
I laughed, and he kissed me again.
Behind us, the rooftop lights glowed like the night itself had decided to bless our foolishness.
And for the first time in a long time, I let it.