14. AMAI #2
She leaned down and kissed me. Slow and deliberate, her hands sliding up to cup my face. I kissed her back because that’s what you did when a beautiful woman kissed you in your office. Because the sex was good and she was intelligent and we vibed in a way that made things easy.
But even as I kissed her, even as I felt her body press against mine, my mind was somewhere else.
Somewhere in the Seventh Ward.
In a shotgun house with peeling paint and a screen door that didn’t close all the way.
With a woman who talked too much when she was nervous and cried on bathroom floors and asked questions nobody else had the courage to ask.
Alexis pulled back slightly, her lips still close to mine. “I should let you get back to work.”
“Yeah.”
She straightened, smoothing down her dress. “Dinner tonight?”
“I’ll text you.”
She smiled again and turned to leave. When she reached the door, she glanced back over her shoulder. “I’m glad we’re on the same page now.”
I nodded.
She left.
The door clicked shut behind her, and I sat there in the silence of my office, staring at the construction contracts I’d been reviewing before she arrived.
I picked up my pen.
Set it back down.
Alexis was everything I was supposed to want. Beautiful, intelligent, respectable. She fit into my world without friction. The sex was incredible—raw and primal in a way that let me burn off the darkness I carried. She didn’t ask too many questions. Didn’t push too hard. Knew how to play the game.
But at the end of the day, she wasn’t Truth.
And that was the problem I couldn’t solve with boundaries or cold dismissals or perfectly executed performances.
I pulled out my phone and stared at the last text message in my thread with Truth.
Six weeks. Then we try again.
I should have been focused on Alexis. On managing the relationship I’d just claimed. On keeping things simple and controlled.
But all I could think about was whether Truth had eaten today. Whether the cramping had stopped. Whether she was still crying on bathroom floors or if Delphine had managed to pull her out of the spiral.
I locked my phone and set it face-down on the desk.
Told myself to focus.
Told myself Alexis was the right choice.
Told myself I was in control.
But the lie tasted bitter on my tongue.
I made it halfway to the jewelry store before I turned the car around.
The thought of putting on that face—the polite, charming, normal businessman who smiled at customers and talked about custom designs—felt impossible.
Like trying to wear a suit that didn’t fit anymore.
My body was there, hands on the wheel, but my mind was still in that clinic recovery room, watching Truth process the failure.
Still hearing her voice at 2 AM, breaking apart on the phone while I sat in the dark and listened.
I called my assistant manager and told her I wasn’t coming in.
She didn’t ask questions. She never did.
At home, I changed into swim trunks and grabbed a towel. The pool was heated year-round, one of those luxuries I’d paid for and rarely used. But today I needed the water. Needed something to drown out the noise in my head.
I dove in without testing the temperature first. The shock of it hit my system like a reset button—cold enough to make my lungs seize, warm enough not to kill me.
I stayed under as long as I could, pushing off the bottom and gliding through the silence.
Down here, there were no phone calls. No failed transfers.
No women crying on bathroom floors. No Alexis testing boundaries in my office.
Just water and pressure and the muffled thud of my own heartbeat.
When my lungs started burning, I kicked toward the surface.
I broke through, gasping, water streaming down my face—and froze.
Kaisen was sitting in one of the lounge chairs at the edge of the pool, legs stretched out, looking at me like he’d been there the whole time.
“What do you want?” I said, my voice flat.
He raised his hands in mock surrender. “Damn. I was just checkin’ on you. Dad told me things didn’t go well with the surrogate.”
I wiped the water from my eyes and swam to the edge, resting my forearms on the concrete. “It’s not your business.”
“Ease the fuck up,” Kaisen said, but there was no heat in it. Just exhaustion that mirrored my own. “I’m not here to start shit. I’m here because you’re my brother, and you look like hell.”
I stared at him for a long moment. Wanted to tell him to leave.
Wanted to put the walls back up and handle this the way I handled everything else—alone, controlled, compartmentalized.
But I was tired. Bone-deep tired in a way that had nothing to do with the swim and everything to do with the past two weeks.
I exhaled slowly and pulled myself out of the pool, water sluicing off my shoulders. Grabbed the towel and sat in the chair next to his.
“The surrogate shit is harder than I thought,” I said finally, staring at the water instead of at him. “I thought I’d just pay someone to carry my baby and pick it up from the hospital. Clean. Simple. Transactional.”
Kaisen didn’t say anything. Just waited.
“But it’s not like that,” I continued. “The more I try to stay away from Truth, the more I want to be around her. And that’s a problem.”
“Damn.” Kaisen leaned back in his chair, processing. “Feelin’ your surrogate is messy as hell. What about Alexis? You been parading around town with her like it’s the real deal.”
“It’s real in the ways that matter,” I said, my voice steady even though the words felt like a lie. “Right now, I need that. So, I stay professional with Truth.”
Kaisen nodded slowly. “Yeah, that’s best. Last thing you need is having to choose between two women.”
“Alexis fits the aesthetic,” I said, more to myself than to him. “Keeps our parents off my back. Mama’s been pushing me to settle down with someone respectable. Alexis checks all the boxes.”
“I know,” Kaisen said quietly.
I rubbed the towel over my face, buying myself a few seconds before I had to say the next part out loud. “I just hope I can keep shit in check.”
The silence stretched between us. Not uncomfortable, just heavy with the weight of things neither of us knew how to fix.
“You think you can?” Kaisen asked finally.
I looked at him. “I don’t know.”
It was the most honest thing I’d said in weeks.
Kaisen leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and stared at the pool. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re doing the right thing. Keeping it professional. Not letting it get messy.”
“Yeah.”
“But Amai?” He turned to look at me. “If it’s already messy in your head, it’s gonna be messy in real life. You can’t compartmentalize feelings the way you compartmentalize business.”
I wanted to argue. Wanted to tell him he was wrong, and that I’d been compartmentalizing my entire life, and it had worked just fine. But the truth was sitting right there between us, unavoidable.
I’d sent Truth $50,000 she hadn’t earned yet. I’d stayed on the phone with her for forty-five minutes while she cried. I’d driven myself to the clinic instead of sending my driver because I needed to be the one to take her home.
That wasn’t professional.
That wasn’t transactional.
That was something else entirely.
“I’ll figure it out,” I said finally.
Kaisen nodded, but I could see the doubt in his eyes. The same doubt I felt every time I told myself I was in control.
“You need anything?” he asked.
“Nah. I’m good.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah.”
He stood, stretched, and started walking toward the house. At the door, he paused and looked back at me.
“For the record,” he said, “I hope it works out. The next transfer. I know how much this means to you.”
I nodded. Didn’t trust myself to say anything else.
When he was gone, I sat there alone by the pool, water dripping from my hair, staring at nothing.
Six weeks.
Six weeks until we tried again.
Six weeks to get my shit together and remember that Truth Renois was my surrogate, not my woman.
Six weeks to convince myself that Alexis was enough.
Six weeks to stop thinking about a woman in the Seventh Ward who talked too much when she was nervous and cried on bathroom floors.
I pulled out my phone and stared at her name in my contacts.
Put it away.
Told myself I was doing the right thing.
But the lie still tasted bitter.