Chapter 7
ISAAC
I was trying really hard to keep my composure because I was at the doctor’s office with London for a prenatal appointment, and it wasn’t the time or the place to talk about the fact that the sheriff had served me with divorce papers that morning.
When I realized what he was actually handing me, my heart fell into my ass.
She was really going through with it. Miamor’s dumb ass messaged me on social media from a fake page and told me she talked to London.
Once I got caught and decided I wanted my marriage to work, I blocked Miamor and Jenette on everything.
I knew London was going to be pissed. I expected her to call me and curse me out but divorce papers?
I wanted to slap the taste out of Miamor’s mouth, but it wasn’t her fault.
It was mine and nobody’s but mine. Right there in the waiting room, I swallowed down a lump as I thought back to the night that ruined my life.
I wanted to blame all the shots I was tossing back on the fact that it was the first time I hadn’t played like shit since things went left in my marriage.
They should have been celebratory shots.
The truth of the matter was that more than likely, I was getting shit faced because things had no doubt gone beyond left in my marriage.
Of course, I trusted London. I was just confused on how Omar’s feelings seemed to be more important than mine.
I didn’t want his sad ass crying in my wife’s ear, and she didn’t seem to grasp that.
There was a such thing as emotional cheating.
I didn’t think it was there yet, but the more they conversed, and Omar acted all sad and heartbroken and shit, I couldn’t be for sure that London’s heartstrings wouldn’t be activated. Shit, they had history.
Even though I felt some type of way, I had still been a good husband and was avoiding temptation, but seeing Omar comment on one of London’s social media posts damn near sent a nigga into a rage.
He was leaving fire emoji’s under her picture, and I didn’t like it.
The fact that she wouldn’t cut communication with that nigga had me ready to rip his head off.
I was close as hell to replying to his comment with some disrespectful words but instead, I took my anger out on the field.
After the game, I went out for drinks and describing what I was doing as overdrinking would be generous.
Two sexy ass women were sauntering toward me just as I’d finished shot number whatever.
They were a complete contrast, and the perfect definition of the best of both worlds.
One stood about 5’8 while the other barely appeared to be 5’4, and that was with heels on.
The taller one had light skin while the other looked like she’d been dipped in the richest chocolate.
The taller of the two had full lips and a surgically enhanced body that had been a little too enhanced in the hip area, but she was still fuckable.
Pretty Brown was petite in stature and slim thick with a pixie cut.
Both were bad, but she’d be the one for sure if I had to choose.
The way both of them had eyes filled with lust as they ogled me, it was hard to discern which one of them was going to try and shoot their shot.
It wasn’t unusual for my dick to harden when in the presence of a bad chick.
I was married not dead. But this erection felt different.
Like I didn’t want it to go down on its’ own.
London and I hadn’t really been having sex and the last time we did, it wasn’t our usual.
We may as well have been two strangers trying to get a quick nut.
It was the first time since I’d known her that the sex wasn’t mind blowing.
It was mid at best and there was no connection.
“Good game. I’m Miamor,” the tall one ran her tongue across her top lip. “This is my friend, Jenette. We wanted to know if we could get an autograph?”
With a cocky smirk, I ran my eyes down the length of Miamor’s frame. “An autograph, huh? Sure. Where do you want me to sign?”
“Right here.” She pointed to her exposed cleavage, and I chuckled.
“That’s a good spot. I don’t have a pen though.”
Miamor looked down and unzipped her crossbody mini-Chanel purse. With a devilish grin, she pulled out a Sharpie and passed it to me.
Finishing my drink, I placed the empty cup on a table and signed my name in cursive on Miamor’s breast. I directed my gaze toward Jenette. “And you?”
“I think I want it on my ass.” She was a bold one, and I liked it.
Usually, thirsty women weren’t a turn on.
It really didn’t matter if they were demure or aggressive, I shunned them all.
But one thing Jenette and Miamor were reminding me of was the fact that I was that nigga.
There were strangers that would do anything I asked of them with no hesitation.
Meanwhile, my own wife cared more about pacifying an ex than making her husband happy.
Anger made my jaw muscle tick but Jenette turning around and lifting her dress over her round ass, made the anger dissipate and arousal take its’ place.
I signed Jenette’s ass and when I was done, she twerked.
Miamor eased over and stared me in the eyes while rubbing on Jenette’s ass.
She then squatted in front of me, and Jenette placed one leg over her.
As she twerked over Miamor’s face, Miamor stuck her tongue out and let it graze Jenette’s bare mound a few times.
That did it for me. I tipped the bottle girl $200 to let the three of us use an empty VIP room.
A time was had in that room. I had the best sex I’d ever had in my life, and the moment I stepped back into the VIP section with Miamor and Jenette on my heels, my life turned to shit.
When London stood up, I was jarred back to the present.
The nurse practitioner was standing with a smile on her face as she waited on London.
My wife’s belly wasn’t huge, but she was still waddling a bit.
A sad smile graced my face as I realized how badly I’d messed up.
After the night we had sex, Miamor and Jenette messaged me on social media.
Going to their profiles literally made me sick.
In the light, Miamor wasn’t as bad as she was when I was drunk in a dark setting.
Her lips looked like rubber. She had gone too hard with the filler, and it looked like if I stuck a pin in her lip it would pop.
She actually looked better without makeup.
Miamor had a sharply chiseled jawline that made her almost appear masculine.
The men went crazy over her photos because she was always provocatively dressed, but in the face, she was a strong seven on a good day.
London was a ten even on a bad day so yeah, I had played myself.
Jenette was still pretty in her photos, but she wasn’t worth losing London for either.
After the routine questions and labs, we waited in the room for the doctor. “I got the papers,” I stated as London sat in the examination chair with her phone in hand. She was engrossed in something.
“Good.” She didn’t even look up.
“So, that’s it, huh?”
“Yeap.”
“Because what? Because Miamor’s childish ass was chasing clout? You already knew I had sex with her. There wasn’t a damn thing she could tell you that you didn’t already know. So why? Why divorce me after her bullshit ass clout chasing stunt?”
London’s head snapped up, and she looked at me with narrowed eyes.
“Are you slow? Like for real, Issac. You can’t be that dense.
Of course, I know what you did. I live with it every day.
But having it rubbed in my face and being bothered by your slut is a level of disrespect that I refuse to tolerate.
You gave her the ammunition to play in my face.
I’m over it, and I’m not dealing with it.
Not in private or on national television. ”
My jaw muscles flexed as I gritted my molars together.
What the hell could I say? She wasn’t wrong.
There was no way I would ever give up on my marriage without a fight, but how long was I supposed to fight?
London didn’t want anything to do with me, and she wasn’t any closer to forgiving me.
Licking my wounds and moving on was the only thing I could do.
I could keep drinking, keep playing subpar football, those things would only hurt me.
They wouldn’t hurt London. There wasn’t anything for me to say but even if I had a comeback, I would have had to wait because the doctor entered the room with a bright smile on his face.
As usual, he shook my hand then asked London how she was doing.
Sitting patiently, I waited as the doctor measured her stomach and did all the routine prenatal visit stuff.
The baby’s heartbeat was strong, and she was measuring where she needed to be.
London had requested a 3Dultrasound, so the doctor told her to schedule that appointment at the front desk.
When he was done, I waited for London and held the door open for her.
I also waited for her to make the ultrasound appointment because I wanted to be there.
Leaving the doctor’s office, I once again held the door open for her.
London mumbled a thank you as I responded with a curt head nod. We were done, and I had to accept that.