Chapter SOLEI
SOLEI
I loved my girls for not prying and for just showing up when I needed them most. That’s real friendship–no hesitation, no judgment, just presence.
Vesper Lounge was our spot. A cocktail bar in the arts district with low lighting, velvet booths, and a bartender named Julio who knew our orders by heart.
It was the kind of place where you could have a conversation without shouting, where the music was good but not overwhelming, where women could exist without being bothered.
“Rough day?” Julio asked, his voice gentle.
“You have no idea.”
“Well, whatever it is, this should help.” He set down the cocktail with a sympathetic smile. I took a long sip, letting the bubbles and gin work their magic. My phone buzzed with a text from Darius asking if work was going alright. I ignored him.
June arrived first, her natural hair pulled back in a sleek bun, still wearing her scrubs from her shift at the hospital. She was a trauma nurse–brilliant, no-nonsense, and protective of the people she loved. She took one look at my face and slid into the booth beside me.
“Okay, what the hell did he do?”
“Who?”
“Don’t play with me, Solei. Darius is a saint, so I know Money did something.”
Before I could answer, Christen swept in wearing a designer pantsuit and heels that could kill a man.
She was a marketing executive at a Fortune 500 company, always polished, always put together, and always ready to give advice whether you asked for it or not.
She stopped by the bar and then made her way over.
Kissing my cheek, she sat across from us. “I ordered a bottle of Rosè and the appetizer platter,”she announced. “Now spill.”
“Damn. Can we wait for Kyesha?”
“No,” they said in unison.
I laughed despite myself. “Y’all are so…”
“We’re concerned,” June interrupted. “You never call emergency girls’ night unless some serious shit is happening.”
Keysha arrived in a flurry of energy, her locs wrapped in a silk scarf, wearing joggers and an oversized Howard hoodie. She was a high school English teacher with a master’s degree in African American literature and a mouth that could make a sailor blush.
“Okay, I’m here. What’s the crisis?” Kyesha called out, giving Julio a quick wave to get his attention. “Tequila, extra lime. And keep them coming,” she told him when he approached.
I took another sip of my drink with my right hand, gathering my courage. These were my girls–we’d been friends since college, had seen each other through breakups and makeups, career changes and life crises. They knew about Money, the separation, and Darius. But they didn’t know about the ring.
“Darius and I are engaged,” I said quietly, placing my hands on the table.
The table went silent as all eyes dropped to my left hand and that beautiful ring. “Girl,” Kyesha breathed.
June’s hand found mine under the table. “When?”
“Sunday. He proposed at his parents’ lake house. It was... perfect. Romantic. Everything you’re supposed to want.”
“But?” Christen prompted, cutting straight to the point.
“But lately, I don’t know what it is. I just can’t stop thinking about Money.” There it was. The truth I’d been avoiding since the moment Darius slid that ring on my finger.
June leaned back in the booth, studying me. “Have you told Money about Darius?”
“No. I haven’t spoken to him since…” I caught my breath.
Since dropping off the kids the other day. When he pressed me into his couch, voice low, begging to taste me while the kids played just outside. My cheeks burned with the memory, and a pang of guilt shot through me. I wasn’t ready to admit it out loud.
I’d gotten caught up listening to his lies about being legit and out of the game. I almost let Money lick my pussy until my phone rang with a call from Darius, and I practically ran out of the house. I wasn’t ready to confess that yet.
“Since when?” Kyesha asked gently, knocking back her drink.
“Since… I dropped the kids off last time. He’s blocked, but of course, in front of them, we keep it professional.”
Christen snorted. “Professional. Right. Like you and Money have ever been professional about shit.”
She wasn’t wrong. Our love had been all-consuming–passionate, intense, and destructive. “Darius is a good man,” I said, more to convince myself than them. “He’s successful, stable, treats me well, and wants what I want…”
“Does he?” June interrupted. “Or does he want the version of you that you show him?”
I flinched. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“It means Darius doesn’t fully know you, girl.
He knows the polished attorney, the professional woman, and the mother who has her shit together.
But does he know the woman who married a kingpin?
The woman who defended criminals and blurred ethical lines?
The woman who loved so hard it nearly destroyed her? ”
“That’s not fair…”
“It’s completely fair,” Kyesha cut in. “We love you, and we want you to be happy. But you can’t build a life with someone based on who you’re pretending to be. If you want Money, you want Money, but shit just gotta be different.”
Christen squeezed my hand. “What does your gut tell you, boo?”
Before I could answer Christen’s question, my phone buzzed on the table as Julio approached and placed the champagne bottle on it in front of us. The girls paused, glancing down at my screen as an incoming message from an unknown number appeared.
My stomach dropped to my feet. “Fuck,” I whispered. It was Money texting me from a burner phone, most likely. “Money knows about Darius.”
“How does he know?” Kyesha asked, eyes wide.
I already knew the answer. There was only one way Money could have found out about Darius.
Junior must’ve said something. My hands were shaking as I picked up my phone.
The girls were talking, asking questions, but I couldn’t hear them over the ringing in my ears.
Money knew I was seeing someone and he’d found out from our thirteen-year-old son.
“I need to make a call,” I said, sliding out of the booth.
“Solei…” June started.
“I’ll be right back. I just need a minute.”
I walked outside into the cool night air, heart pounding. The street was quiet, a few people walking past, oblivious to the fact that my carefully constructed world was crumbling. I pulled up Junior’s number and hit ‘call’. He answered on the third ring.
“Hey, Ma.”
I could hear the gym's echo in the background, the squeak of sneakers on hardwood, and the sound of a basketball bouncing. He was still at practice. “Hey, baby. You almost done?"
“Yeah, Coach is wrappin’ up now. You good? You sound weird.”
I closed my eyes, trying to keep my voice steady. “I need to talk to you about something.”
“Okay…”
“Did you tell your father about Darius?”
Silence. Then, “I mean... yeah. I just mentioned he might be comin’ to my game. Was I not supposed to? That’s what you said, right?” He sounded so young and so confused. My heart ached.
“Junior, listen to me. What happens in my house and what I tell you about my personal life stays between us. You understand?”
“But your personal business is different when it involves me. I mean, you got this man comin’ to my game and Pop…”
“I know, baby. And I’m not mad at you. But you can’t be reporting back to your father about who I’m dating or what’s going on. That’s my business, not his.”
“But Darius loves you, Ma. He’s around a lot. That’s kind of a big deal. Big business.”
I pressed my fingers to my temples, feeling a headache building. “How do you know he… he loves me?”
“Ma, I’m thirteen. I’m not a baby. Soso might be oblivious to certain sh… things, but I’m not.”
Of course, Junior had noticed. He was observant, just like his damn father. “Okay,” I said slowly. “Yes, Darius and I are in lo… listen. That’s something I should have told your father myself, on my own time. Not something he should’ve found out through you.”
“I don't understand. I mean, are y’all never gettin’ back together?”
“We’re separated for a reason, Junior.” I paused, searching for the right words. “Just respect the boundaries, baby. I love you more than anything. But you’re not a messenger between your father and me, or responsible for updating him on my life.”
“So from now on just don’t bring you up around Pop like… like you don’t exist?”
“That’s not what I’m saying. You don’t have to volunteer information about my personal relationships. If he asks how I’m doing, you can say I’m fine. You don’t need to tell him about Darius or anything else that could be going on.”
“This whole thing is confusin’.”
“I know it is. And I’m sorry for that. But I need you to understand something. What happens between your father and me is complicated. We’re trying to co-parent you and Soso in a healthy way.”
“I get it,” Junior said quietly. “I don’t know. I guess I always thought maybe you and Pop would get back together. Me and Soso talk about it sometimes. I know you still love him.”
It wasn’t a question. It was a statement.
And the certainty in his voice made my throat tight.
“I don’t…” I stopped. I couldn’t lie to my son.
“Junior, what I feel about your father is complicated. But what matters is that we both love you and Solina, and we’re both committed to being great parents.
That doesn’t change, no matter who I’m with. ”
“You know Pop’s pissed.”
“That’s not your problem, baby. That’s between him and me. You just focus on being thirteen, getting good grades, and playing basketball. Let the adults handle the adult stuff, okay?”
“Aight.” He didn’t sound convinced.
“Again, I’m not mad at you. I just need you to understand that there are boundaries. Can you do that for me?”
“Yeah, Ma. I gotchu.”
“Thank you, baby. I’ll see you Sunday when I pick you guys up.”
“Okay. Love you.”
“Love you too.”