Better Than Your Ex

by Jimi Gaillard-Jefferson

  I thought that when I knew her I would lose a piece of myself. The piece that was confident. The piece that was content. The piece that was solid and sure and steady. The piece that thought I was enough for Cahir.

  Because I heard. When he and Zion were together I heard about them from my clients. They were that couple. Or one of them. It seemed every time one of the New Money Girls took a man the entire City worked itself into a lather.

  I heard and wondered if anyone talked about Cahir and I that way or wondered if I were a ghost of a replacement. A clean up woman. Did I pale in comparison to her? Would I break when I saw her? Would I immediately recognized that I wasn’t enough? She ran a business and men’s wallets? She wanted more and I wanted a house full of plants. Designer clothes while I traipsed around in Cahir’s t-shirt.

  Would he ever love me the way he loved her? In a way that forced him to stop existing in a quiet way? Aunt LeAndra and Uncle Tony loved each other that way. Gran loved her husband, the one that died so young, that way even though she always knew she wouldn’t have him long. I never wanted to love anyone that way. I never wanted to look up and realize that love smothered me instead of freed me. I never wanted to see that part of me was just carrying someone else.

  The anxiety that maybe he would go made me mean. Made me wish he would disparage her more. Made me wish he would call her names and insult her. Would let the anger whip and cut and slice. It never did. So I was left alone for the anxiety to take root.

  I shook my head and opened my eyes. It took a few minutes for me to find my phone.

  Cahir answered on the first ring. “Cash.”

  “I’m ready to talk,” I said. I thought I heard him give a quiet, little gasp. “About us.”

  “I’m on my way.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Cassidy

  “Let’s go.” He leaned against my front door and put his hands in his pockets when I would have preferred to have them on me.

  I looked down at my joggers and athletic slides. “Where?”

  “You forget this is your normal feeding time?”

  I laughed. There was nothing nearby I felt comfortable throwing at him. “Wait.”

  He sighed. Dramatic and long. “You look great. We can just go.”

  “The lies you tell.” I went to my closet.

  He followed me. “No. If you do it, we’ll be here forever and you’ll ask a million questions that don’t matter. And then I’ll be hungry too. Do the tiara thingy with your hair.”

  “The what?”

  “With the braid” He made a circle around the top of his head.

  “A what?”

  He gestured to my closet. “I have important things to figure out. The one big braid that goes around in a loop or whatever.”

  “A crown braid?” I bit my lip.

  “If I knew what it was really called we wouldn’t be having this chat, would we?”

  “It’s a crown braid.”

  “Whatever. You’re an awful client to style. You never follow directions.” He disappeared into my closet. “Questions, questions, questions. Just do what I said.”

  He heard me laugh. I know he did. He just didn’t respond.

  I did my hair. He laid an outfit on my bed. I looked at it.

  “I have a purse-”

  He waved a hand. “Who’s the stylist here?”

  “Oh. So sorry.”

  “Forgiven.” He came back a moment later with the purse I thought was the best choice for the outfit.

  “It’s scary that you can do that.” I stripped and put on what he picked out and didn’t know how I felt about how respectful he was.

  I didn’t know if I liked that he looked at his phone instead of at my body.

  “Do what?”

  “Dress me.”

  “It’s just paying attention.”

  “No. It isn’t.”

  A small smile played over his lips. It grew a little when I twirled in front of him.

  “You’re really beautiful, you know.” He kissed each of my fingers and I forgot how to breathe.

  “Thank you.”

  “Thank you.” He winked and linked our fingers.

  He took us to a barbecue spot that had bourbon cocktails on tap. Six of them.

  “I’m in trouble,” I said.

  “We’re going to get all of them. At once. And share them.” He didn’t look up from the menu. “Should we get ribs and chicken or go wild and try the brisket? No. Don’t say it.”

  I closed my mouth.

  “We’re too far north for you to eat brisket, right? Does Mother’s have brisket?”

  “I love you,” I said.

  “It’s been four weeks and three days since you said that to me.” He kept his eyes on the menu. Voice almost a murmur.

  “That’s it? You don’t know it down to the-”

  “-six hours and fifteen minutes. Don’t play with me, Cash.”

  I laughed. I laughed so much with him. “I love you. And I have no idea what Zion looks like. I’m terrified that if I see her I’ll shrivel up inside and run screaming because I’m not her.”

  His hand was heavy when it settled over mine. The way blankets and my parent’s love were. Warm. Solid. Constant. He ordered dinner, the right dinner, and turned his attention back to me. It was there in the simple things, the little things. They were what held all the reasons why I couldn’t make it past the first date with anyone else.

  “I’m going to tell you this every day for the rest of our lives if I have to. You ready?”

  The rest of our lives…I nodded and wished for water.

  “Zion is Zion. You are you. She was a part of my life I’m never going back to. You’re the part of my life I’m never giving up.” His thumb rubbed circles on my palm. “Trying to avoid Zion is like me trying to avoid Kevin.”

  I snorted.

  “Yeah.” He tilted his head. “At least I think so. That’s ridiculous to you, right? Cause I’m obviously the better choice?”

  There was a joke in there about both of them hiding babies from me but the spirit of discernment settled on my shoulders and made me nod.

  “Zion was wild and dangerous and someone from the outside looking in would have said it was glamorous and fated and all these other cute words that don’t mean shit. She wasn’t good for me, Cash. She wasn’t forever.”

  I was glad he stopped. Glad all he had for me was a steady gaze that said there was more if I was ready for it.

  I wasn’t. “Tell me. Tell me what life would be like if I stayed with you. If I was with you.”

  He leaned forward. Ready.

  I raised a hand. “I think about it. A lot. And I have to tell you, before you start, that if it’s anything but being a real part of your life, a constant part, I can’t do it. If I’m hidden away in the corner while you try to coparent with Zion-”

  “-Zion isn’t raising my kid.”

  There was no reason for me to translate what was in his eyes. What I thought was in his heart. Some places were too deep for me to swim.

  “If I’m around your kid, I’m going to love it like I love you. I am. It would have to be permanent for me.”

  “Do you know what you’re saying?”

  “Yes. And no.” I sighed. “I know what I want to say. And I know what saying it means. But-”

  “-okay. Don’t say it then. Not until you’re ready. But, Cash?”

  “Hmm?”

  “When you do say it…” The smile grew slow across his face. Slow and predatory.

  Chapter Twelve

  Cassidy

  I didn’t mean to stay late. But I had an idea. A piece of an idea. I knew it was good. Knew it would make me and Delia richer than we had any business to be. So I curled into the couch in the office with only lamplight to keep me company and made graphs, projections- conservative and ridiculous. And I was excited. There was nothing, absolutely nothing, like making cash money. I laughed and reached for my phone to call Cahir, to tell him about my id
ea, to hear what he thought of it.

  “Hi, Cassidy.”

  My grin got a little wider. “I was wondering how long it would take you to make your way in here.”

  “I had to be sure Cahir did his job before I did mine.”

  I liked O’Shea. I liked the transformation that she went through. I’d followed her style. From when she ran the restaurant that crashed and burned without her to leaving Domingo to finding and marrying Guy. It was beautiful to watch her blossom and settle into her own skin, her clothes, her pregnancy. She sat down next to me on the couch.

  I closed my laptop and twisted my body to face hers. “He told me you’re pregnant. Congratulations.”

  “Delia didn’t tell you? She’s supposed to be shouting my news from the rooftops the way Nadia is.”

  “With the way she feels about pregnancy? We had a woman that wanted us to style her for her maternity shoot, and I thought Delia was going to throw her over the railing.”

  She laughed. A masculine sound. I always thought that was why O’Shea got away with so many of the things, and people, she did. She carried an easy blend of masculinity and femininity that made you feel like she wasn’t like you, she wasn’t competition. “Did he tell you the rest of it?”

  “Zion.” My smile fell. “I’m sorry. I know hearing she’s pregnant must be hard for you.”

  “Huh. Didn’t expect you to apologize to me.”

  “She’s your-”

  “No. She isn’t.”

  “Oh.” Would everyone be so sharp when they told me Zion wasn’t a part of their lives? That the bonds were broken?

  She pressed a hand to her stomach. “What will you do?”

  “What am I supposed to do?”

  “Too easy. Don’t deflect.”

  “Damn.” I chuckled. “That usually works.”

  “I’m sure.”

  “If I stay, I’ll love the baby. That’s what babies do. They wrap themselves around you, make you their slaves. I’ll want to be a part of the baby’s life. Forever.” I didn’t know why I opened my mouth and told so much of the truth. Didn’t know if she would care or could see.

  “If you stay for the baby, you have to stay for Cahir, forever.”

  “Can I be ready for forever? I love him. But forever? Right now? And why aren’t you pissed?”

  “Let’s start at the top.” She slid her fingers between mine and the smile bloomed across my face again. “Ximena taught me about forever. She said you can’t fathom forever. And what you can’t fathom you can’t plan for. So don’t worry about it. Worry about that day. And the day after that. Because that’s all forever is: a series of todays. It took me a while to understand and a bit longer to see she was right. Today and tomorrow. That’s it. Can you see yourself with him today? Can you see yourself with him tomorrow? What about the next tomorrow and the one after that? Will he still fit when things are jagged? Will he fit when they’re so smooth they’re slippery? Will he cling to you in the storms and smile, positive that you’ll do well, when you have to walk the road alone? Is he your best friend? The one that sees the ugly and says you’re beautiful?”

  Tears gathered under my eyes. It was O’Shea that wiped them away. “God, you’re such an artist. So many words.”

  She laughed.

  “Zion. If she had fought for him instead of herself, if she had done everything she could to heal them and repair them, if she had respected his love, if she had done all that and he left her for you, I would have torn him apart. I would have ripped you into your smallest pieces and ground you into dust.” The laughter was gone. Truth. Just truth remained. “But she didn’t fight for his love. She didn’t fight for mine. What am I going to do? Hate the woman that would fight? Hate the woman willing to turn her life upside down because she’s smart enough to respect a miracle and be gentle with it when she gets it?”

  I nodded and wiped away her tears.

  “I say it because I need to be strong. I say she isn’t my sister because I need to let go and everything in me is rebelling against it. But she is my sister. More than that she’s a part of me. So that baby is too. It’s just as much my kid as the one I’m carrying. Delia and Nadia would say the same. Can you be comfortable with us being there? With us being a part of your life forever?”

  I hadn’t thought of that. Hadn’t considered that it wouldn’t be just Cahir that I would have to keep. Cahir and the baby wouldn’t be the only new members of my family. I-There were too many things. Too many things.

  But as always, when it felt like the world was a little too much, there was a Black woman holding my hand. Ready to be a comfort or a shield or whatever else I needed. I twisted on the couch and laid my head on O’Shea’s shoulder and enjoyed the quiet with her.

  Cassidy

  “I’m going to ask you for something crazy.” I leaned against Junie’s desk.

  “Do you know who we work with?” Junie popped her gum. “I doubt it.”

  “Really? What do they ask you for?”

  “Recently? Dynamite. But Guy came over and shut it down before I could get more details.”

  “Dyna-No. I don’t want to know. But that is kind of what I want to ask about.”

  “Explosives? Cause I’ll tell you like I told O’Shea, C-4 is more sophisticated, cleaner, and easier for me to get my hands on.”

  “How?”

  “I grew up in Strawberry Fields. Mr didn’t clean it up that much.”

  I laughed and grabbed a piece of gum out of her desk. “I need to talk to Guy. Is there a way for you to find out where he is?”

  She picked up her phone. “Want me to text you the address or what?”

  “You have his location?”

  “I’m the emergency contact for every single person in this building and the men they with. Yes. I have locations.”

  “Emergency contact?”

  “Well.” She flipped highlighter orange braids over her shoulder. “I would be if they had any sense.”

  “You hacked their phones?”

  “I designated myself as their safety monitor. You want the address or not?”

  The address Junie gave me led me to a hotel. Or at least the sign said it would be a hotel. One day. I parked and got out of the car. A stocky man jogged up to me.

  “Press aren’t supposed to come until tomorrow.”

  I smiled. “I’m not with the press. I’m here to see Guy? Could you tell him-”

  “-he’s married. Happily. His wife’s pregnant.”

  “Yes, I know. I work at Beyond with her. Could you tell him Cassidy is here?”

  “You’re a friend of O’Shea’s?”

  “She’s backed me into a couple corners.” I shrugged.

  He laughed. “Yeah. You know her. Come on.”

  He got me a hardhat and led me through the noise of tools and men yelling to Guy who was busy with a jackhammer.

  “Boss.” A finger was jerked towards me.

  The jackhammer went quiet and my ears rang from the sudden absence of noice. Gloves like catcher’s mitts and oversized glasses fell away.

  “Cassidy?”

  “Hey, Guy.” It occurred to me how awkward this whole thing was. He didn’t know me, and I didn’t know him. And what was I even there to say? “There’s nothing wrong with O’Shea or anything.”

  “I know.” He motioned for me to follow him over to a makeshift table covered with plans and pulled out a chair for me. “Junie would call me if there was. We have an agreement after-Anyways.”

  “Yeah.”

  “So you’re here for you. And Cahir. Talk to me about it.”

  “I had things to say but now-” I shook my head. “It made sense in the car.”

  “Always makes sense during the drive.” He nodded.

  I liked him. Had always liked him. My father loved football and told me about Guy. Showed me highlight reels and explained in careful words and tones why Guy was one of the best things to happen to the City both on and off the field. He even did business
with him. Brought him into Baltimore real estate development and restoration and said Guy was the best rival he had.

  But I didn’t know him. And I showed up to tell him what?

  “I knew who Domingo was when I fell in love with O’Shea.” Guy laughed. The way Southern men did. In a way that said they had time and a secret supply of sunshine.

  “Really?”

  “I ate at Domingo’s restaurant for Tony and I’s amusement. Domingo hated us so we showed up in the one place he couldn’t just come out and be a dick. I wanted to go home that particular night. I remember that. The men I was eating with were gossiping about O’Shea, reminding why I didn’t like Domingo. I saw her out the corner of my eye and just-Forgot she existed for two years? Sort of?”

  “Really?” I was a broken record, but really? They seemed…made for each other. That it hadn’t been some love at first sight thing was a little past shocking and close to ridiculous.

  “So I come out the security room at The Club because someone’s in the hall cackling like a hyena, and it’s her. And I knew an O’Shea was taking over but I thought it was some Irish guy or some shit. It’s her. And she’s looking at me.” He smiled. Easy with the memory. “She’s smiling. Flirting. Her hand’s in mine. And she is mine. I see that. The moment I come in the hall. She’s mine, and there’s something that’s getting in the way of me getting what I want.”

  I held my breath. I didn’t tell him but he understood. He knew why I was there.

  “He’s right there. Every interaction we have. And I’m holding myself back just a little bit because yeah, I love her. Crazy kind of thing that goes past love and-”

  “I get it.”

  “Of course you do.” His smile was kind. He leaned back in the chair and didn’t seem alarmed by the sounds it made. “So I’m basically obsessed. I’d walk around with a knife between my ribs if it amused her. And I’ve never felt like this before, right? She’s it. All wrapped up in one. And she can’t be mine because she’s got an abusive ex that won’t go away.”

  “How did you do it?”

  “You mean how do I do it? Yeah, he’ll never physically show up, but he’s still there. She’ll be about to do or say something and she has to stop because whatever it was- wasn’t for me. She was reacting to him.”