Chapter 1 #2
She stopped mid-pour and slowly turned on her heels with the container in her hand.
“What?”
“I’m not in the mood to hear you talk about clients and work.”
For a second, Kwinn simply stared at him. She actually had to remind herself who she was and who the fuck he thought he was talking to. She set the creamer down.
“Okay,” she snapped. “Do you think I be in the mood to hear you complain about some shit that hasn’t even happened, or about how you can’t get enough playing time, or how you’re tired of the team doing this and the coaches doing that?”
Jabari’s jaw tightened. “I’m just telling you I ain’t in the mood. Quit taking shit so personally.”
“And I’m telling you what’s going on with me.” She folded her arms across her chest. “You don’t get to decide that your shit is important and mine isn’t worthy of listening to just because you’re having a bad day.”
“I never said your shit wasn’t important.”
“And you didn’t have to.”
Jabari sighed. “Here you go.”
“No, here you go.” Kwinn shook her head, with her irritation at an all-time high.
“Every time you have something going on, I’m supposed to drop everything, listen to you, reassure you, tell you you’re going to be all right, remind you how talented you are, and make sure you don’t forget who the hell you are.
And I do all those things because I love you.
But the second I start talking about something happening in my life, suddenly you’re not in the mood. ”
“That’s not fair.”
She gave him a disbelieving look. “Fair?”
“Yeah.”
Kwinn laughed once, but there wasn’t anything funny about it.
“I’ve been showing up for you this entire time, Jabari.
I’ve sat here and listened to you talk about your injury for months.
I’ve listened to you complain about the team.
I’ve heard the trade rumors a hundred different ways, and every time, I’ve told you the same thing—you’ll figure it out.
You’ll bounce back. You’re too talented for this to define you. ”
She stepped closer and lowered her voice but was very clear. “So forgive me if I don’t think it’s asking too much for my boyfriend to give me a hug and listen to me talk about a damn pool.”
Jabari’s nostrils flared as he stared at her.
Kwinn stared right back, waiting for him to say something else.
When he didn’t, she turned away from him.
Placing the creamer back into the fridge, she tried to rein in her attitude, but it was too late.
His silence, coupled with the fact that he was already mindlessly scrolling through his phone, only made her more irritated.
Kwinn could’ve said more. She wanted to ask him when he’d become so damn comfortable dismissing her. She wanted to remind him that she’d spent the past several months making sure he had everything he needed, all while quietly accepting whatever scraps of attention he had left for her.
Instead, she kept those thoughts to herself. She wasn’t about to stand in her kitchen begging a man to listen to her. She didn’t give a fuck if it was her man.
“And since you all of a sudden can’t speak, I’m sleeping alone tonight. Have whoever or whatever is in that phone keep you occupied, homeboy,” she sassed before switching out of the kitchen.
“Homeboy?” Jabari called after her. “Yo, Kwinn, you tripping!”
Kwinn was already halfway down the hall, no longer caring what he had to say and no longer hungry.
She could’ve turned around and kept arguing, letting him have everything she’d been holding in, but what would that accomplish?
She was tired of explaining why the bare minimum mattered to her.
Tired of having to convince the man she loved that she deserved his attention.
Her feet glided across the European white oak as she made her way back to her office.
The sound seemed louder than usual in the quiet house, but that was normal now; not them arguing because they rarely did that.
It was the indifference that puzzled Kwinn, and she was trying to pinpoint where it all began.
Somehow, the little moments that once seemed insignificant became impossible to ignore as they started piling up.
Kwinn would tell Jabari about a project and realize halfway through that he wasn’t listening. They could sit down for dinner, and his phone would receive more attention than she did. She’d ask how his day went and get a half-ass answer that didn’t make her want to continue the conversation.
She couldn’t remember the last time he’d asked about one of her projects without her bringing it up first. Hell, she couldn’t remember the last time he’d asked how her day was. That thought made her eyes well up as she sat on the plush couch.
Jabari hadn’t always been like this. When she began expanding her interior design business, The Taylor Collective, he’d been one of the loudest in her corner.
He’d tell his teammates about her work and send pictures of her finished spaces to people he knew.
When she was nervous about raising her prices, he’d look at her like she’d lost her mind for even questioning herself.
Charge what you’re worth, Kwinn. He’d said it so many times that she eventually stopped seeking his validation. It didn’t mean she didn’t want it without asking. Now, whenever she talked about another client or business idea, she’d catch this look on his face.
It wasn’t pride like before, and Kwinn hated that it was something else she didn’t want to name.
At first, she’d convinced herself she was imagining it.
Jabari was stressed and injured. His career was uncertain, and the possibility of being traded had clearly gotten to him. She could give him grace.
She’d given him a lot of grace.
Maybe too damn much.
Kwinn picked up her MacBook and unlocked it with her index finger.
Her eyes settled on the screen, but she didn't absorb a single word.
Her mind was too busy trying to figure out what she was doing in this relationship and why.
More importantly, who was the man she was with, and why had he suddenly gone cold on her?
It seemed as if he suddenly envied her, or had it always been there?
She’d never been ashamed of where she came from.
Kwinn had grown up comfortably in a two-parent household, raised by straight hustlers.
Her parents got it out of the mud, so she never had to wonder where her next meal was coming from or whether the lights would stay on.
She wasn’t na?ve enough to pretend that hadn’t given her certain advantages, but her parents had never raised her to sit around and spend their money nor had they raised her to depend on anyone.
Her daddy taught her how to negotiate and set boundaries, while her mother taught her how to read a contract before signing it and to make people pay what they weighed if it were worth it. Both of them taught her that having access didn’t mean she couldn’t build something of her own, so she did.
The Taylor Collective wasn’t some little hobby she’d picked up because she had too much free time.
She’d worked hard for every client, every referral, and every contract.
Kwinn had money, the right connections, and people who knew her name and spoke highly of her.
Still, she was a hustler. That was what made Jabari’s attitude toward her so confusing.
He knew exactly who she was when they met, and now it seemed he’d forgotten.
Not just about her, but about their relationship, and Kwinn was over it.
She loved him and wanted the absolute best for him, but lately, she’d been wondering whether he felt the same way about her. He couldn’t have. Kwinn needed to feel that she wasn’t simply another obligation he had to deal with while everything else in his life took priority.