20. AMAI #4
“The woman you’re always thinking about. The one who makes you check your phone every five minutes. The one who’s got you so distracted you can barely hold a conversation.” She tilted her head slightly. “I’m not stupid, Amai. I know when a man’s heart is somewhere else.”
I didn’t deny it. Couldn’t.
“I’m sorry,” I said, and I meant it. “You deserve better than this. Better than me.”
Alexis’s expression softened slightly, something like resignation settling over her features. “You know what’s funny? I actually thought—” She stopped herself, shook her head. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter now.”
“Alexis—”
The front door opened.
I turned, expecting Priest or maybe Kaisen showing up unannounced. But the woman who walked through my door like she owned the place wasn’t either of them.
Yahmaria.
She was wearing all black—fitted pants, silk blouse, and heels that clicked against the hardwood floor with each deliberate step. Her hair was longer than the last time I’d seen her, falling in loose waves past her shoulders. She looked good. She always looked good. That had never been the problem.
She stopped in the doorway to the living room and smiled. Not a warm smile. The kind of smile that said she knew exactly what she was interrupting and was enjoying every second of it.
“Amai,” she said, her voice smooth as honey and twice as dangerous. “Baby. I’ve been trying to reach you.”
My entire body went cold.
From upstairs, I heard footsteps. Then Syx appeared at the top of the stairs, took one look at the scene unfolding below, and said exactly what I was thinking: “Ah hell. It’s about to be some shit nah.”
Alexis was staring at Yahmaria with confusion and something that looked like dawning horror. “Who is she?”
Yahmaria’s smile widened. She walked further into the room, her movements unhurried, confident, claiming space like she’d never left. She stopped a few feet from Alexis and extended her hand like they were meeting at a cocktail party.
“I’m his wife,” she said, her voice dripping with satisfaction. “Yahmaria Landry.”
The silence that followed was absolute.
Alexis’s face went through a series of expressions—shock, disbelief, hurt, anger—all in the span of three seconds. She looked at me, her eyes wide. “Your wife?”
I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move. My mind was racing through a thousand calculations at once—how Yahmaria had gotten in, why she was here now, what this meant for Truth, for the baby, for everything I’d been trying to build.
“You didn’t tell her?” Yahmaria asked, turning to me with mock surprise. “Amai, that’s not very gentlemanly of you. Leading this poor woman on when you’re still legally married.”
“We’re separated,” I said, my voice flat and cold. “Have been for two years because your ass won’t sign the fuckin’ papers.”
“Separated,” Yahmaria repeated, like she was tasting the word. “But not divorced. Because I haven’t signed the papers. Which means legally, technically, in every way that matters—I’m still your wife.”
Alexis took a step back, her hand pressed against her chest like she’d been physically struck. “You’re married. This whole time, you’ve been married.”
“Alexis—”
“Don’t.” She held up her hand, stopping me mid-sentence. “Just don’t.”
Syx had made his way down the stairs and was leaning against the wall now, watching the scene unfold with the kind of dark amusement that made me want to throw him out of my house.
But I couldn’t deal with him right now. Couldn’t deal with anything except the fact that my past had just walked through my door and blown up my present.
Yahmaria moved closer to me, her perfume—something expensive and familiar—filling the space between us. “I’ve missed you, baby. We need to talk. About us. About our future.”
“We don’t have a future,” I said, my voice low and dangerous. “We haven’t had one for a long time.”
“That’s not what my father thinks.”
And there it was. The real reason she was here. Victor. Always Victor.
Alexis was already moving toward the door, her movements sharp and angry. “I can’t believe this. I can’t believe I was stupid enough to—” She stopped, turned back to look at me one last time. “You know what? You two deserve each other.”
The door slammed behind her.
The sound echoed through the house like a gunshot.
Yahmaria smiled. “Well. That went well.”
I looked at her—really looked at her—and felt nothing but cold, calculated fury. “Get out of my house.”
“It’s my house too, remember? Community property. We’re still married.”
“Get. Out.”
She tilted her head, studying me with those dark eyes that had once made me feel something other than contempt. “You can’t get rid of me that easily, Amai. I’m not going anywhere. Not until we have a real conversation about what happens next.”
From the corner of the room, Syx let out a low whistle. “Man, this is better than anything on TV.”
I didn’t take my eyes off Yahmaria. “What do you want?”
“What I’ve always wanted.” She stepped closer, close enough that I could see the calculation behind her smile. “You.”
My phone buzzed in my pocket.
I knew without looking that it was probably Truth. Checking in. Asking how I was. Being the person Yahmaria had never been and never would be.
And I knew—with absolute certainty—that if Yahmaria found out about Truth, about the baby, about any of it, she would use it to destroy me.
Not because she loved me.
But because she could.
“Get out,” I said again, my voice deadly quiet. “Before I make you.”
Yahmaria’s smile didn’t waver. “We’ll see about that, baby. We’ll see.”
She turned and walked toward the door, her heels clicking against the floor with each step. At the threshold, she paused and looked back over her shoulder.
“Oh, and Amai? My father says hello. We had lunch yesterday. He’s very interested in how things are going with your… project.”
The door closed behind her.
I stood there in the silence, my hands clenched into fists at my sides, my mind racing through every possible scenario and coming up empty.
Syx pushed off the wall and walked over to me. “So,” he said, his voice carefully neutral. “I ain’t see her ass in a minute.”
“Right.”
“You’ve been tryin’ to divorce her ass for two years.”
“Yeah.”
“The one who’s Uncle Winston’s best friend’s daughter.”
“Yeah.”
Syx nodded slowly. “Man, you are so fucked.”
I didn’t argue.
Because he was right.
To be continued…