Chapter 18
The last thing I ever wanted to do was hurt Zanova more than I already had.
But I’d be lying if I said seeing her plastered all over the internet with that nigga Samir didn’t make me bitter.
And bitter may not be a strong enough word.
Watching her smile up in his damn face while he looked at her like he wanted to devour her twisted something in me.
The chemistry was definitely there; anyone who saw the video could attest to that.
The exchange looked like they were in love already, and that told me everything I didn’t want to admit.
They weren’t just sharing tarts and tequila; they were sharing each other.
In other words, they were fucking! And that realization ripped through me like glass.
I couldn’t shake the image of his hands where mine used to be, his lips touching what I once called mine.
It ate at me, the kind of jealousy that burns slow but deep.
I told myself I had no right to feel this way, not after everything I put her through.
That didn’t stop the rage crawling up my spine, though.
She moved on, and I had no one to blame but myself.
Still, knowing it didn’t make it hurt any less.
“Jerome, why did you lie to me? The whole time we were together, you were married?”
Hearing Jamila’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts. Her tone wasn’t loud, but it was shrilling enough to make my chest tighten. We were now in the kitchen of the venue, while Jamila's mother handled the party.
“It’s not that deep, Jamila,” I muttered, rubbing a hand down my face. “Zanova and I are divorced. And you and I aren’t even together anymore, so I don’t owe you any explanation.”
She let out a vicious laugh, shaking her head. “Not that deep? You had me out here looking stupid! Parading around with me like you weren’t still legally tied to your wife! A wife you said cheated on you. The whole time, you were the one out here dogging her out.”
“Look, I ain’t come here for that. I came to celebrate with my daughter for her birthday.”
“Nigga, you ain’t shit! I don’t know why I even fucked with you. I should’ve walked away when you first approached me at that bar. Something in me told me you were bad news.”
“Yet and still, you let me hit that same nig—”
My smart remark died on my lips the second Samir came storming into the kitchen like a raging bull, nostrils flaring and his eyes blazing.
Before I could react, Samir swung, connecting a clean shot to my jaw.
I stumbled back, hitting the refrigerator with a loud crash, the cold metal rattling from the impact.
“Nigga, I knew there was a reason I ain’t like your ass!” Samir shouted, stepping closer, hands clenched like he wanted to crush me right here.
I groaned, one hand covering my jaw, looking up at him with a mix of disbelief and hate. “Yo’, what the fuck, man?!”
“I’m only gon’ say this shit one motherfuckin’ time. Stay away from Zanova. If she even tells me you so much as looked her way, I swear… I’m gon’ end your whole fucking existence!”
“Nigga, that’s my wife, and you fucking her!”
“Nah, my nigga, I’m fucking your ex-wife. The woman you fumbled and couldn’t keep,” Samir finished, voice cold as a blade.
Hearing him admit what I already knew only sent me into rage.
“She was mine first. I molded that pussy,” I said, laughing.
“Yeah? And I’m the last man that’s gon’ be stretching that shit out, my nigga.”
That shit landed like a slap on my pride. I lunged at Samir, hot and ready to tear him apart, but he met me square and dropped a punch into my stomach so hard, it felt like someone kicked my insides. Air left me in a rush as I hit the tile and folded over, hands clawing at my ribs as the room spun.
“This is your last warning,” he said, every word sounding like a promise. “Next time, I’m gon’ make my sister a single mother.”
He turned on his heel and stormed out of the kitchen, feet hitting the floor with thunder. Jamila came over, trying to help me up. I snatched away and stood to my feet. I was pissed. That nigga Samir thought this shit was over, but it was far from it.
And if Zanova thought that I was giving up on us, she had another thing coming.
A Few Days Later
Isat in my car in front of Jamila’s house, feeling empty inside.
I know I can’t undo the past, but regret is a heavy burden to bear.
I lost damn near everything in my divorce, leaving me to suffer the consequences of my actions.
Another regret is not spending enough time with my daughter as I should’ve.
That shit made me feel less of a man because I wasn’t raised that way.
I had been a shitty father. I hadn’t taken responsibility for Joya because I was too busy trying to hide my own flesh and blood from Zanova.
It wasn’t that I didn’t love my daughter; I just wished she had come from my wife instead.
Don’t get me wrong, my baby mama, Jamila, was fun to fuck at that time, but she wasn’t who I wanted.
The story I told Zanova about how we met was a lie.
I actually hit on Jamila one night at a bar.
She was there with a few of her friends, celebrating her birthday, I believe, when I spotted her sexy ass on the dance floor.
I was mesmerized by her beauty and carefree nature.
I was tipsy as fuck, but well aware of what I was doing.
I felt that since I’d cheated before, how would one more time hurt?
I slipped my wedding band in my pocket and stepped to her.
I threw her my charm and some gift for gab.
When she asked me if I was single, I made up the lie about Zanova cheating on me, playing a grieving husband, whose wife wasn’t shit.
Before I knew it, I had Jamila face down, ass up at the Armstrong Hotel, a town over from where I lived with my wife.
The next morning, we exchanged numbers. For a few months, I strung Jamila along while fucking her brains out on a regular basis.
One night, I got fucked up and went in raw.
Two months later, Jamila was telling me that she was pregnant.
I told her to get an abortion, but she wasn’t feeling it.
So I said, “Fuck it!” I promised to do my part as a man while making her my woman, and everything was going good for a while.
I had a wife and a side bitch—both getting what they needed from me to be happy.
The shit was draining at times, trying to keep two women content, but I managed to do it without any problems.
That was until the night of our anniversary. What was supposed to be a celebration turned into the night everything fell apart between Zanova and me. She saw the text Jamila sent me, just a simple message letting me know my daughter was sick. However, it was enough to blow my whole cover.
The moment my eyes landed on that message, I knew it was over.
There was no talking my way out of that one—no smooth lie to patch the cracks.
I had to come clean, even though I wanted nothing more than for the text to disappear.
The look on my wife's face; man, that shit is burned into my memory.
The disbelief, heartbreak, and anger were fighting their way through her tears.
I watched her spirit crumble right in front of me.
That wasn’t how I wanted her to find out. Truth be told, I never really planned on telling her any time soon. My dumb ass thought I could keep it quiet until we conceived a baby of our own, like somehow that would soften the blow.
Zanova and I had been trying for a while to have a baby.
I could see it in her eyes, every negative test chipped away at her confidence, and, if I’m being real, at mine too.
The doctor said we were both healthy and that it would happen when the time was right.
But patience was never my strong suit. I started feeling some type of way, like I was less of a man.
Watching her hurt month after month while I’d already gotten another woman pregnant, that shit messed with my head.
But instead of owning up to my mistake, I doubled down.
I smiled in Zanova’s face, told her, “Our time is coming,” when I already had a baby calling another woman “mama.” Looking back, I don’t even know if I was trying to protect her or just trying to protect myself from losing the only good thing I ever had.
Then I went and fucked up, setting fire to her shop. That wasn’t my intention at first. I was in my feelings and wanted to hurt her the way she hurt me. I knew if she found out it was me who did it, she would never talk to me again.
I ran my hand down my face, grabbed my daughter’s sneakers that I’d gotten her out of the backseat, stepped out of my ride in Jamila’s driveway, and walked up to the door.
Before I could ring the doorbell, it was snatched open.
An angry Jamila stood with a scowl on her face, dressed in a short silk robe.
I had to lick my lips. She looked sexy as fuck, making my dick jump.
My eyes slowly crept from her pink, polished toes, up her thick thighs that I missed wrapped around me while I fucked her wet-ass pussy.
My eyes lingered on her breasts until I heard her scuffed.
“Yeah, nigga, that’s all you could do is look and daydream.
You will never get to smell or touch this pussy again,” Jamila said, snapping me out of my lust-filled thoughts.
“Are you sure about that?” I bit my lip.
“On my life. Jerome, I wouldn’t fuck you again if you were the last man on earth!” She took a step back, allowing me to enter her home. “You can wait in the living room while I get your daughter.”
“What’s with the attitude?” I walked into the clean space and took a seat on her leather sofa. “Every time I come here, you talk to me all reckless. You don’t miss Daddy?” I was being petty.
“Hell no! Jerome, you’s a dog-ass nigga. A liar. Why would I miss that?” She snapped back with her words before walking upstairs to get Joya.
Jamila had been getting slick with at the mouth since we broke up.
I guess she had every right to be mad, but I wasn’t going to be too many more dog-ass niggas before I flipped the fuck out.
She and Zanova had me fucked up. She wasn’t going to keep disrespecting me like I was some little boy out here.
If I wasn’t scared that her crazy-ass brother would kill me, I’d have been smacked the taste out of her mouth.
Suddenly, I heard the unmistakable sound of tiny feet pattering down the stairs. My heart swelled with anticipation of seeing my little princess. I may be a “ain’t shit father,” but I loved my daughter.
“Daddy! You came!” Joya’s tiny voice called out, breaking into my thoughts. It was filled with joy and excitement.
She rounded the sofa, her little face beaming with a smile that could light up the darkest room.
Her curly hair bounced with each step as she ran toward me, her arms outstretched.
I stood and knelt down, just in time to catch her as she launched herself into my arms. The warmth of her embrace and the giggles that spilled from her lips filled me with a profound sense of happiness.
“Hey, Princess," I whispered, holding her close.
“Daddy, can we go to Grandma and Grandpa's house? Grandma said she’d make me cookies.”
My parents indeed knew about Joya. They’d known since she was born.
They were the first people I told because I was scared and didn’t know what to do.
I went to them, crying like a bitch, thinking that my marriage was over.
Although they were happy to be grandparents, they were disappointed that I had stepped out on Zanova because they loved her like a daughter.
To this day, my mama barely speaks to me.
“We sure can.” I kissed her cheek and set her on the sofa. “Wait right here. Daddy needs to talk with Mommy before we go.”
I gently grabbed Jamila by the arm and walked over near the kitchen, so we were out of earshot of Joya.
“Nigga, don’t touch me! There’s nothing to talk about, Jerome.” She snatched her arm from my grasp.
“Chill, Jamila,” I told her.
Using my body to pin her against the counter, I invaded her space and buried my face in her neck.
She smelled so good. “When are you gonna stop playing with me and let me get some pussy?” I placed a kiss on her neck.
I went to place one on her lips, and she pushed me off of her, damn near knocking me on my ass.
“That’s all you think about? That's all I ever was to you? A piece of ass?” she asked, her voice cracking.
I sighed, raking my hand down my face. “Jamila, I never meant to hurt you. I should have told you the truth.”
Her eyes searched mine, looking for sincerity. "Why didn't you? You made me believe in something that was never real. All this time… You had me thinking that you loved me, and that we were going to get married,” she stated, her voice trembling.
“I was scared. I didn't want to lose you, but I also didn't want to face the consequences. It was selfish, I know.”
“You are selfish. Now get your daughter and go.” She wiped her neck with the back of her hands, like she was removing the kiss I placed there.
Jamila didn’t waste any time getting Joya’s overnight bag before kicking me out.