Chapter 1 Aviana Scott #2
Damar and I strolled past displays of luxury handbags that cost more than some people’s rent. He kept me close with his arm sliding around my waist. He constantly tugged me against him like he wanted everybody in the store to know I was his.
“Oooh. Try that one on,” he said, pointing to a sleek black tote with gold hardware. “That one look like money.”
I slipped it off the display and threw it over my shoulder, then I stepped in front of the mirror. Damar stood behind me, admiring me with a cocky and proud smirk. “Damn. Look at my wife. You look expensive as hell with that bag on your arm, like a basketball wife.”
I laughed, blushing.
“Nah, for real. That bag says you’re a dope boy’s wife. Like you don’t check price tags. Like you’re used to this life.”
I tilted my head, eyeing myself in the mirror. He wasn’t wrong. The bag looked good on me. I looked like I belonged in spaces where women sipped champagne while they shopped and didn’t flinch when swiping a black card.
He kissed my cheek, pressing his lips close to my jaw. “I work so hard because I want to give you this life all the time. You deserve to have the best every time you even think of it, not just on a special occasion, and I’m going to give you just that. I swear.”
I glanced up, startled by the sincerity in his eyes. I hesitated because guilt pinched at my throat, making it hard to swallow. I smiled up into his eyes. “I know, baby.”
“You want it?”
“Damar, you don’t have to do this,” I murmured.
Damar was successful, but he hadn’t reached the point in his career that spending this type of money on a handbag wouldn’t put stress on his bank account.
“I know,” he said quickly, gently tilting my chin so I met his eyes. “I want to, so let me.”
The way he looked at me felt earnest. It was desperate almost, like he was doing everything in his power to bridge the emotional gap I’d quietly allowed to form between us, and that made the heaviness in my chest multiply.
I sighed and smiled. “Sure, baby.”
His smile stretched wide. “Then it’s yours.”
As he signaled for the saleswoman, I felt like such a fraud.
I had been complaining about the lack of passion between Damar and me for quite some time. I had been having the same complaint since before we married.
He was a handsome, charismatic man with swag.
I could never deny his tall, massive beauty.
He was healthy for my broken heart when we met.
But I never felt the heart-wrenching longing and need for him that I always felt for my other best friend, Mythic Grey.
I hoped that once Damar and I fell in love, once we married, that it would develop.
But our chemistry was never a match for the flame that roared in my heart for Mythic.
From the beginning, my marriage with Damar had been mundane.
He checked all the right boxes. He was successful, dependable, and a “good man” on paper, but that was it.
I thought that the issue was that he wasn’t as connected to our marriage because he was so focused on his party promotion business.
But a year ago, Damar started to switch things up.
Out of nowhere, he started turning up the romance with dinners, flowers, compliments—the things he used to overlook.
I tried to enjoy it. I tried to appreciate the effort he was finally putting in. But the truth was, even with all his changes, my heart kept drifting back to Mythic.
After Damar made the purchase, he kissed my temple, slipped his arm around me, and we stepped back into the evening.
And as I held tightly on to the expensive gift bag, my guilt screamed loudly in my ears, drowning out the carefree laughter and conversations of the people passing by.
As we waited to cross the street, he leaned in and kissed me again.
My eyes fluttered closed, but not for the reasons they should have.
It was Mythic’s face that filled the darkness behind my eyelids. I heard his voice and felt his hands. The way he used to look at me like I was both his peace and his undoing. I hated that my body reacted to the thought of him more than to the man actually kissing me.
I pulled back gently and forced a small smile. “You’re really making a day of this, huh?”
“Yeah.” He nodded, glancing at me like he was searching for something in my eyes. “I just wanna be with you, Avi. No distractions. No bullshit. Just us.”
We started walking again. The sidewalks were crowded, but we moved slow, like the city wasn’t rushing past us.
Damar’s grip on my hand tightened a little.
“I know I wasn’t always…present. I got caught up with the parties and the scene.
The promoting. The attention. I thought providing meant showing up with money and connections.
But that’s not what you need. And I hate that I had to almost lose you to realize that. ”
I bit the inside of my cheek, fighting the sting in my chest.
“I’ve been putting in the work,” he said, “trying to prove to you that I’m here—that I’m serious about us. But I can’t lie, Vee—” He stopped walking, turning to face me—“it scares the hell out of me that it might be too late. That I waited too long to choose you the right way.”
He looked at me like he needed me to save him. But I didn’t feel like anyone’s savior. I felt like a traitor in heels and lip gloss.
“You didn’t lose me.” I barely believed my own words.
His thumb brushed against my knuckles. “Then help me feel like I haven’t.”
I nodded slowly. My lips curled into something that looked like love, but inside me, it was hollow. Damar was a good man. He was willing to fight for what we had.
But my heart was somewhere else—with someone who made me feel like I couldn’t breathe without him.
Someone who wasn’t my husband.
And no matter how many steps Damar took toward me, I kept drifting farther away.
A few hours later, Damar and I met Mia at Enchant. As soon as we walked through the doors, we went our separate ways so that he could get to work.
Mythic owned the nightclub Enchant while Damar promoted parties there.
Damar had been a very successful and popular promoter in Chicago since he’d graduated from college.
In the last few years, he’d expanded from promoting small parties to building a full-fledged, lucrative business in the nightlife scene.
What started with handing out flyers and hosting club nights had evolved into securing major venues, booking big talent, and locking in sponsorships.
His name held weight now in clubs and in other lanes too.
He had his hands in event production, brand partnerships, and even upscale private experiences for high-end clients.
When Mythic opened Enchant, Damar was obsessed with getting entertainment control. He had explained that the club was new and hot because of Mythic’s street fame, so he had to have a piece.
On the second floor, Mia and I swayed our exaggerated curves along to the beat of the latest rap songs while looking down on the sea of clubbers from our appointed VIP section.
Mia’s curves were exaggerated because she had gotten implants and fat transfers applied to a slim, petite frame.
Those surgeries had been funded by the money she’d been stealing from Dream Realty.
My curves were exaggerated because I was two-hundred and sixty-five pounds on a five-foot-four-inch frame.
Though I was a big girl, I wasn’t ashamed of my curves.
I had never been kicked out of any man’s bed because of my weight.
Each pound was well proportioned on my short frame, and most of the weight was in my lower body, leaving me with a much smaller upper torso in comparison.
However, the new wave of perfect, manufactured bodies with tiny stomachs and invisible waistlines stirred some insecurities every once in a while.
As we danced to the beats and sipped from the bottles of liquor sent over by Mythic, I couldn’t shake the knot of nerves in my chest as I spotted him making his way toward us.
Suddenly, it felt like the air had been sucked out of the room.
His presence was intense, commanding attention without even trying.
I found myself holding my breath, and my heart raced the closer he came.
Mia shot me a teasing glance. “Here comes your boo.”
I glared at the way she was having so much fun with my misery.
Mythic and I shared a history—one that still haunted me despite the time that had passed.
Mia, Mythic, and I had been best friends since high school and were from the same neighborhood.
I’d fallen hard and fast for Mythic back then.
I’d fantasized about him since meeting him in algebra class freshman year.
Junior year, Mythic and I had finally become more than just friends.
When he started to flirt with me, I was floored.
He had stolen my heart, especially because he was so willing to openly date such a big girl.
At seventeen, I didn’t even fully understand what love was supposed to feel like, but I knew with him, it was different.
Despite his rough exterior, he was attentive, loving, and kind when it came to me.
He had this way of making me feel seen, like I was the only person in the room and the only one who mattered.
And for the first time, I felt truly safe, like nothing could touch me as long as he was around.
When so many immature boys were teasing me about my weight, he adored it and made me feel like the most beautiful, sexy girl in the school.
There was this fire between us that I couldn’t put words to at the time. All I knew was he made me feel alive, protected, and wanted in a way I had never felt before. He was always making sure I felt loved, even in the smallest ways.