Chapter SOLEI #2
I hung up and stood there on the sidewalk, staring at my phone. Money’s text was still on the screen, those words burning into my retinas. This was a message. A warning. A promise. Money knew about my relationship, and he wasn't going to let it go quietly.
I walked back into Vesper Lounge, where my girls were waiting. They looked up as I approached, concern written all over their faces.
“Everything okay?” Christen asked.
I slid back into the booth and picked up my drink, downing half of it in one gulp. “No,” I said honestly. “Everything is not okay. Money knows about Darius and I know he’s going to lose his mind.”
“What are you gonna do?” Kyesha asked.
I looked down at my ring finger, thinking about Darius and his perfect proposal, his perfect life, and his perfect plans for our perfect future.
Then I thought about Money–dangerous, possessive, impossible Money–and the way he’d looked at me the last time we were alone together.
Like I was his. Like I’d always been his.
Like no other man could change that fundamental truth.
“I have no idea,” I whispered, watching champagne being poured.
June raised her glass. “Well, whatever you decide, we’ve got your back. Even if you’re making a terrible fucking decision.”
“Especially if she’s making a terrible decision,” Christen added.
Kyesha clinked her glass against mine. “To Solei. May she figure her shit out before the world burns down.”
“To figuring my shit out,” I echoed, and we all drank.
But as the night wore on, as we laughed and talked and pretended everything was normal, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was standing on the edge of a cliff. And Money was waiting at the bottom, ready to catch me or destroy me. Maybe both.
???
My condo was dark when I got home that night, the kind of quiet that felt oppressive rather than peaceful. I kicked off my heels in the entryway, dropped my purse on the console table, and went straight for the wine rack.
The bottle I pulled was expensive–a gift from a grateful client whose son I’d kept out of prison on a possession charge. I didn’t bother with a glass, just twisted the cork out and took a long chug straight from the bottle.
Classy, Solei. Real classy.
I caught my reflection in the hallway mirror and stopped. The woman staring back at me looked put-together–designer dress, perfect makeup, and hair styled in soft waves that had cost three hundred dollars at the salon. The ring on my finger caught the light.
I’d said yes because it made sense. Because I wanted a legitimate life, something clean and uncomplicated.
I’d said yes because I was tired of being lonely.
I’d said yes because Money had broken me so thoroughly that I didn't think I had any fight left. But standing there, alone in my condo with wine on my breath and lies on my tongue, I knew the truth. I’d said yes because I was running, but you can’t really outrun your own heart, right?
I pulled my phone out of my Chanel bag and set it face down on the counter. Then I picked it up again and put it back down. “What the fuck, Solei?” I whispered. Picking up my phone again, I opened the photos app and scrolled through years of memories until I found the picture of Money and me.
It was from ten years ago, taken at some party I couldn’t even remember.
I was sitting on Money’s lap, and his arms were around my waist, holding me close.
His smile was wide and genuine in a way it rarely was around other people.
I was laughing at something he’d said with my head thrown back, and my hand on his chest. We looked happy and in love.
We looked like people who had no idea how badly they were about to destroy each other.
I zoomed in on his face, studying the features I’d memorized long ago–deep, dark skin, sharp jawline, full lips, and eyes that could shift from warm to cold in a heartbeat. Even in a photo, even frozen in time, he radiated danger. And I loved him. God help me, I still did.
My phone buzzed in my hand, and I nearly dropped it. A text from the same unknown number.
My heart stopped.
Had Money been at the bar watching me? Watching me lie to myself and everyone around me.
Another text came through before I could process the first.
My hands were shaking. I should’ve blocked the number like I blocked the others. I should’ve deleted the messages. I should’ve called Darius and confessed everything, and ended this before it started. Instead, I texted Money back.
Three dots appeared immediately, showing he was typing.
I threw my phone across the room, watching it bounce off the couch cushions.
My breath was coming too fast, my heart racing as if I’d just run a marathon.
I grabbed the wine bottle and headed for my bedroom, stripping out of my work clothes and jewelry as I went.
The ring felt heavy on my finger, heavier than it had any right to be.
I twisted it off and set it on my nightstand, staring at it in the darkness.
I climbed into bed and pulled the covers up to my chin, closing my eyes against the tears that threatened to fall. All I could see was Money’s face. All I could feel was his hands on my skin. All I kept replaying was that crazy ass text from Money.
Can’t believe you fuckin’ this lame ass nigga, Soul. Separated or not. You know I’m gon’ kill this muthafucka, right?
I didn't sleep that night. I just lay there in the dark, thinking about the man I’d married and the man I was supposed to marry, and wondering if there was any version of this story where I didn’t end up hurting them both.