Twenty minutes later Tressa found herself on the dance floor with her soon-to-be husband. With her thoughts still stuck on her encounter with Roth, she barely processed Cyrus’s presence.
“Should it bother me that my fiancée smells like another man’s cologne?”
This snagged her attention. Reeling back, she stared into Cyrus’s probing green eyes. “Excuse me?”
“You smell like him.”
Playing coy, she said, “Him, who?”
Cyrus’s features hardened and deep lines etched into his caramel-toned forehead. “You know what him I’m referring to. Don’t try to play me for a fool.” His expression softened. “I love you, Tressa. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. But I need to know.”
She searched his sad eyes. “Need to know what, Cyrus?”
“I need to know... I need to know if you’re sleeping with him.”
Tressa froze, stunned by Cyrus’s question. Her lips parted, but nothing readily escaped. Why in the world had Cyrus asked her that?
“I see the way he looks at you. Hell, he’s been staring at you all night. Every damn move you make. I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want to lose you to him.”
Cyrus’s words broke her heart. At that moment she realized how unfair she’d been to him. Cradling his smooth face between her hands, she said, “I would never hurt you like that, Cyrus. You’re the man I’m marrying, remember?”
A smile curled his lips and he eased his forehead against hers. “I love you, baby. I love you so much.” His expression turned somber and he rested his hands on either side of her neck. “I’ve made mistakes, Tressa. But I swear I’m going to be a good husband to you.”
Mistakes. What mistakes had he been referring to? Before she got the opportunity to ask, clapping sounded behind Cyrus. Tressa glanced over his shoulder, her gaze landing on a brown-skinned woman in a very revealing black gown. She wore a black fishnet veil that made her look as if she was in mourning.
“That was so beautiful,” the woman said, nearing them. “Too bad it’s nothing but a bunch of bull—”
“Natalie!” Cyrus barked. His nostrils flared and a vein pulsed in his neck. “What in the hell are you doing here?” he said through clenched teeth.
Fine lines etched into Tressa’s forehead. “Natalie? You know this woman, Cyrus?”
“Yes, he does. Very well.” Natalie placed her hands on her hips. “We had an intimate work relationship until a few days ago,” she said with a smirk.
Cyrus looked as if he could snatch the woman’s heart out with his hand. Spittle flew from his mouth when he said, “Shut the hell up, Natalie,” through teeth gritted so tightly they should have all been ground to dust.
Whispers and words revealing shock among the small crowd now circling them, swirled around her. Tuning it all out, she zeroed in on Cyrus. “You should probably start talking right now. What’s going on?”
“Yes, Cyrus. We’d both like to know what the hell is going on,” Natalie added.
This time ignoring their party crasher, Cyrus turned to her. “Tressa. I made a mistake. We can—”
When he reached for her, she backed away. This was the mistake he referenced earlier. “How long?”
When he didn’t answer, Natalie did. “Four months.”
“Four—” The air seized in her lungs.
“Baby—”
Tears stung her eyes, but they were more angry than sentimental ones. “You lying, cheating, no-good, trifling bastard.” She wrenched the ring from her finger and tossed it at him. Eyeing Natalie, she said, “He’s all yours. The wedding is off.”
Cyrus grabbed her arm. “No, you don’t mean that.”
A second later Tony—her three-hundred-pound ex-lineman cousin—clapped a large hand on Cyrus’s shoulder. The look in his eyes suggested Cyrus release her now.
Obviously, Cyrus got the silent message, because his grip on her arm loosened, then fell away.
Several family members—including her visibly livid mother—swarmed around Cyrus like bees on the attack. They stung him with their not-so-gentle words of disapproval. As the room erupted in utter chaos, Tressa made her escape. She’d asked for a sign and, boy, had she got it.
Copyright © 2018 by Joy Avery
ISBN-13: 9781488081293
Overtime for Love
Copyright © 2018 by Synithia R. Williams
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