Chapter 4 #2
The two women that I had sex with in a club were not worth losing my marriage over.
Even Charlamagne the God had given me donkey of the day on his radio talk show, and he was a nigga that publicly admitted to cheating on his wife in the past. There wasn’t anything I could do besides apologize to London, and I’d done that so much she wanted me to stop.
She was standing on business, and I didn’t know how to break her down.
Being pregnant made most women vulnerable, but it seemed to have given London super strength.
Shorty looked genuinely happy walking around without a ring on her finger.
She was glowing and something told me it wasn’t all because of the pregnancy.
She was really happy and at peace meanwhile, I was more miserable than I had ever been in my life. Go figure.
At the restaurant, Hymn and I ordered double shots of Bourbon and for an appetizer, I got the Philly Cheesesteak eggrolls, and he got wings.
“Brion and I are going to the strip club this weekend. You trying to come? She wants to pick the strippers that are going to be at my bachelor party,” Hymn grinned.
He knew he lucked up with Brion. She was a winner for sure.
“I’ll think about it. I never thought I’d see the day when I was tired of going out,” I chuckled. “The strip club isn’t going to do shit but make me horny. Ain’t that something?” I shook my head. “I haven’t had sex since I cheated on my wife. Ass backwards and stupid,” I chastised myself.
I was still married, but London of course, didn’t want anything to do with me.
I was still a man with needs, but I didn’t have the desire to have sex with anyone else.
My lame ass would probably start crying in the pussy and be the laughingstock of the blogs.
I just wanted my wife back. I’d empty my bank account to be able to rewind time.
My homie was about to start his new journey with Brion and her kids, and I had started a new journey as well. One that I didn’t want to be on.
Seeing other men that had cheated on their wives and been forgiven time and time again showed me without a shadow of a doubt that London wasn’t one of them.
Far from it. Hymn wasn’t a yes man, and he wasn’t the type to sugarcoat things.
I had beat myself up enough, however, so I knew he didn’t want to add to it.
“It’s just something that you have to get through. Until London figures out what she wants to do, just focus on the upcoming season and the birth of your son.”
Pushing out a sigh I ran one hand over my curls. “Yeah, that’s all I’ve been doing. You know how bad I wanted a kid, and now we’re not going to be living in the same house. I’m not going to be able to wake up to him every morning and go to bed with him at night.”
“You gotta stop acting like a victim, bro.”
The waiter brought our drinks over at the perfect time because even if he was telling the truth, Hymn’s words annoyed me a bit.
Needing the burn in my throat and chest I tossed the double shot back like it was water.
It gave me something to feel besides regret.
Sulking wasn’t changing my situation, so I might as well get over it. Like London apparently had.
“How you think that’s gon’ go? If you don’t get back together as far as having your son one on one?”
“I’ll give it until he’s at least a month old.
After that, when I’m not on the road, he’ll be with me at least twice a week.
I don’t care if I have to hire someone or get my mom to come help me.
I can do it, but while he’s super small, I’ll need somebody to show me what to do.
I’m not really worried about that. London isn’t like that.
She’d never try to keep me from being a father to him. ”
Hymn nodded. If all else failed, London and I would be able to co-parent. She wasn’t the type that would be bitter and give me hell. I just had to hope and pray it wouldn’t come to that.
If he felt I had too much to drink, Hymn wasn’t going to let me drive home, so I capped it at four shots.
Once I got home, however, I took a shower and tossed back two more shots.
Sitting on the couch, I stared at the huge wedding photo of me and London that graced the living room wall.
The house didn’t feel the same without her.
A multi-million-dollar house decorated with the most luxurious and expensive pieces might as well have been a prison cell.
My son’s nursery hadn’t been decorated because London wasn’t there to do it.
He would need a room at my house, regardless, so I decided to reach out to an interior designer that I knew, so she could handle it.
My chest began to feel tight, so that was my cue to take another sip.
I really didn’t even think about it. The alcohol had me moving off impulse.
Despite the fact that I didn’t need to be driving, I grabbed my keys.
It probably wasn’t cool to show up at London’s crib drunk and uninvited, but was I supposed to just give up?
I knew London wouldn’t do anything while she was pregnant, but if she had the baby, bounced back, and went out there and found another man the way Brion did, I’d be sick as fuck.
That wasn’t an option. Locking the door behind me, I walked out to my pick-up truck and hit the unlock button on the key fob.
I didn’t need to be in one of my fast cars since I was pretty much seeing double.
Being lovesick had me ready to crash out.
If London ended up forgiving me and taking me back my dumb ass would never cheat again.
The drive to her home was almost twenty minutes.
I had to blink rapidly several times to stop seeing double.
My ass didn’t need to be driving, but I was already in the vehicle.
I didn’t want to hurt myself or anybody else, so I was sure to drive the speed limit.
I also didn’t need the public scrutiny that would come with getting a DUI.
Finally, I made it to London’s house, and I breathed a sigh of relief.
I wasn’t sure if she was asleep, but I still hopped out of the truck and walked up to her door.
London lived in a nice neighborhood, and she had a gun.
I still wasn’t too fond of her living alone though.
That was yet another thing that I didn’t have any control or say over.
London was a big girl, and she could handle herself, but I didn’t want it to come to that.
I rang the bell and waited to see if she would answer the door.
She had a camera mounted above the doorbell.
There was a good chance she might look at the camera, see that it was me, and refuse to open the door.
A minute or so later, London opened the door with a perplexed expression on her beautiful face.
Pregnancy had grown the hell out of her thick locs.
They were touching the middle of her back.
My wife had a pink robe on, and the smell of her favorite bodywash permeated the air around us.
She was freshly showered with a bare face, and all I wanted to do was wrap my arms around her and tell her how she was the best thing that had ever happened to me.
Not even all the liquid courage coursing through my veins helped me to open my mouth and say everything that was swirling around in my brain.
There had never been a time in the past when London saw me after days or even hours, and her face didn’t light up. Now, she was looking utterly confused as to why I dared to approach her door and ring the bell.
“Yes?” There was a hint of impatience in her tone that felt like a punch to the gut.
“London, please. Baby, tell me what I have to do to fix this. I’ll do anything. Please, I’m begging.” I made a move to get down on my knees, and London shot me a glare so hateful it stopped me in my tracks.
“Isaac, I have been very nice to you. I’ve probably been nicer to you than you deserve.
I am asking you respectfully and nicely to stop the theatrics.
I know you’re sorry; I knew the first fifty times you said it.
You don’t have to keep saying it. But in the real world, there are some things that sorry just doesn’t heal.
Respect my boundaries, and please don’t come to my home uninvited again. ”
Her home. Damn.
“You smell like you bathed in alcohol. You know you don’t need to be driving drunk. You need to get it together.” Her tone wasn’t filled with concern. It was more like disgust. She was really done with me.
Not memories, who I was, what I had, or my words changed any of that.
I may as well have been a stranger to London.
I couldn’t even blame it on pregnancy hormones.
She wasn’t a raging, emotional, lunatic.
She didn’t have crazy mood swings and fly off the handle about small things.
London was the same sweet, genuine, caring person that she had always been.
When she entered a room, she brought a sense of calm with her.
She had the kind of light shining around her that others envied.
I would probably feel better if she acted like she hated me.
London was a woman at peace with where we were, and that was a dangerous ass thing.
“I won’t bother you again.”
My stomach churned, and bile threatened to spill into my throat. My wife, the mother of my child, didn’t want shit to do with me, and it was all my fault.