Your Ex My Man

by Sharissa Coles

  His story was already starting out completely different than Ayla’s, but I still listened intently and clung onto every word.

  “She just wanted to rush things,” he continued. “You know how I am about rushing things. I get scared away.”

  That was true. I’d experienced it firsthand. His version of the story was already making more sense than Ayla’s.

  “She grew more and more obsessed with me,” he said. “She’d pop into the station to bring me lunch. She’d ask my partner where I was so she could surprise me. I even caught her going through my phone once.”

  “Eek,” I said, scrunching my face. She didn’t seem like she’d even be smart enough to do any of that stuff, but I said nothing. “So how’d you end it?”

  “I just told her, point blank, that it wasn’t working out,” he said. “She took it pretty hard. Cried. A lot. Called me for weeks, maybe even months, I don’t know. Then she moved into my building.”

  A red flag went up in my head. Ayla said he’d moved into her building. I remembered that very distinctly.

  “She did?” I asked. “When?”

  “Less than a year ago, maybe? It was just a few weeks after I’d dumped her,” he said. “That’s when I met her mom for the first time. She knocked on my door asking me to help her move something heavy. I was shocked to see her there. I was shocked to see her moving in across from me. But her mom was standing right there, so I had to be polite and help. What could I do? Slam the door in her psychotic face?”

  It made perfect sense, but then again, so did everything else he ever told me.

  “The next thing I know, she’s got this new boyfriend, Antoine,” he said. “She paraded him around me every chance she got. She was never into PDA before, but whenever she’d see me around, she couldn’t keep her hands off him. It was all an act.”

  He sounded a tiny bit like a bitter, jealous ex-lover, but I wasn’t going to tell him that.

  “I hate to admit this. I really do,” he continued. “But seeing her with someone else, so happy, sort of got me a little confused. Like it stirred up some old feelings or something.”

  Suddenly it all made sense. Ayla was Kevin’s version of Antoine. He saw her happy and he wanted her back.

  I started laughing as I threw my half-drunk self back on the sofa.

  “What’s so funny?” Kevin asked with one eyebrow raised. “Did I share too much? This is why I hate talking about these things.”

  “No!” I laughed some more. “Antoine is my ex-boyfriend. I dumped him last year, and the moment I found out he was getting married, I wanted him back.”

  “Oh,” Kevin said. “You… still have feelings for him?”

  “Well,” I said. “To be honest, I don’t know. I do and I don’t. It depends on the day. When I see him with Ayla or when he ignores me, it lights this fire inside of me that makes me feel like I’d do almost anything to earn my rightful spot back in his heart. But when I’m with you, I don’t even think about Antoine.”

  “Well, it’s settled then,” he said as he slapped his hands on his knees. “We both need to move the fuck on and get over them.”

  My face lit up. I was glad to hear him say that, and for the first time ever, I felt like we were on the same page.

  “Agreed,” I replied. “No sense in breaking up a happy couple when we could easily find our own happiness.”

  Kevin gazed up at me through his soulful eyes. He stood up and walked over, taking a seat next to me. He slipped his arm around my back and pulled me closer. He smelled like spearmint and aftershave.

  “I guess everyone is secondhand,” he said. “We’re all just thrift shop finds. We’re not perfect. We come with baggage. Scuff marks. Chips. But sometimes you get lucky and you find that one piece that someone threw out that happens to be perfect for you.”

  “Wow,” I said with a smile. “I’ve never known you to be so poetic before.”

  “I guess opening up to you just made me feel like I could say anything,” he said. He leaned in and placed his perfect pout against mine, pressing hard, parting and then slipping his tongue between them. His sturdy hand caressed my cheek before he ran his fingers through the loose wisps that hung down around my face.

  In that moment, I didn’t care that I was wearing pilling old sweatpants or a nearly see-through white tank top. I didn’t care that my breath probably tasted like cookies and wine. In that moment, I didn’t even think about Antoine. Not once, and especially not when Bennett scooped me up in his big arms and carried me back to my bedroom.

  He tore off his shirt, slipped off his jeans, and climbed under the covers with me. His hands were voracious as he caressed and touched every inch of my body. I’d never seen him so hungry before, but I wasn’t about to stop him from getting his carnal meal. I wanted him just as badly as he wanted me.

  As his lips crashed again into mind and his hands worked me over every which way, I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and relished that moment. Kevin was my future. I just knew it. I was one hundred percent certain.

  CHAPTER 20

  Work night sleepovers were always fun until the next morning. That Tuesday, I didn’t forget to turn my alarm on and neither did he. We set both an extra half hour early just in case.

  When his phone went off at six a.m., I didn’t want to wake up. I wanted to lay with him forever. I didn’t want that happy, glowy, nothing-else-matters mood to fade away.

  He slowly pulled his arm out from under me, wrongfully assuming I was still asleep.

  I cracked my eyes open just a pinch. “You can use my shower if you want. Towels are in the linen closet.”

  “It’s okay,” he whispered. “I’m going to head back to my place and get ready. All my work things are there.”

  I sat up, refreshed from the amazing night’s sleep I’d just experienced, and watched him get dressed. The way his abs rippled as he slid his pants on and the way the muscles in his forearms shifted as he lifted his shirt over his head were nearly enough to send me over.

  Without any sort of warning, my bedroom door flung open.

  “I thought I heard a man’s voice in here…” It was LaLa. Her eagle eyes honed in on Kevin, who was thankfully dressed, and she shot him a skeptical look.

  “Good morning to you too,” I said. “I take it you had a sleepover of your own last night?”

  “Yeah,” she said with a coy smile. “Just coming home to get ready for work.”

  I climbed out of bed and started gathering my clothes for the day from my closet. Kevin stood frozen, like he didn’t know what to do. At least he wasn’t in a hurry to leave like he was the last time.

  LaLa stood in the doorway, arms crossed, as she looked him up and down. She was so protective, and I loved her for that, but it was unnecessary. I couldn’t wait to fill her in later when he was gone.

  “Oh, Kevin,” I called out from my closet.

  “Yeah?” he asked, taking a step further away from LaLa’s menacing stare.

  “I have a favor to ask of you,” I said. “You can say no and I’ll completely understand.”

  “Okay, shoot,” he said.

  “Would you be my date for Ayla’s wedding?” I scrunched my face and winced, waiting for him to say no.

  He paused for a moment, deep in thought.

  “I know it’s weird, especially considering the circumstances,” I said. “But we’re both in the same boat. I figured we could get through it together. I think we could both use the closure.”

  He stared at the carpet before biting his lip and nodding. “I suppose you’re right.”

  “Is… that going to be okay with Ayla?” LaLa interjected.

  “Yes,” I snipped at her. I turned towards Kevin to reassure him. “Julianne actually told me to bring you.”

  “Really?” he asked, shocked.

  “I swear to God,” I said with my hand over my heart. “She said to bring the guy I brought to the banquet.”

  Kevin chuckled as a split-second smile flashed on
his face. “Okay. Only if you’re sure, though. I don’t want my presence to ruin her day.”

  “If your presence ruins her day, then mine ruins Antoine’s,” I said. “We’re in the same boat. Besides, Julianne set this up. Ayla said she’d do anything for Julianne. We’re just making Julianne happy.”

  “All right. Anything for Julianne,” he said.

  “Demarius was invited,” LaLa interrupted. “I’m going with him. I’ll be there.”

  “She invited Demarius?” I repeated. “I’m shocked.”

  “Why? Because they dated in college?” LaLa snipped. “They ended things on good terms. I think that says a lot, don’t you?”

  Her eyes swiftly traveled over to where Kevin was standing. I knew exactly what she was hinting at, but I played dumb.

  “Yeah, that’s nice,” I replied. “A good sign. Okay, so the four of us can go together then.”

  “Sounds good,” Kevin said with a casual shrug.

  “Ayla probably wants a huge guest list anyway,” I added. “She seems like that type. Lots of gifts. Lots of attention.”

  Kevin said nothing and LaLa rolled her eyes. They opted not to participate in my trash-talking that morning. Too early, perhaps?

  He placed his hand on my lower back and leaned in to kiss my cheek.

  “I’d better get going,” he said, pointing to his watch.

  “Fine,” I said. “Thanks for coming over last night.”

  He flashed me his ridiculously perfect, million dollar smile and excused himself past LaLa. The second I heard the door shut, I had to fill her in.

  “What the hell?” LaLa said as she hit my shoulder. “What’s this all about?”

  “I went to bring him dinner last night,” I said. “And I ran into Antoine. Long story short, I kissed Antoine. Kevin saw. I ran home. Kevin showed up. He poured his heart out about Ayla. I poured my heart out about Antoine. Next thing I know, he’s in my bed, can’t keep his hands off me. And now here we are.”

  “Okay, I realize we’re short on time, but that was a really condensed version and I’m going to need details,” LaLa said. I couldn’t help but notice the disapproving look on her face.

  “I’ll give you details later tonight. I promise,” I said. “I have to get in the shower.”

  She stood with one hand on her hip, shook her head, and then went back to her room.

  I knew she wouldn’t understand—not yet, anyway.

  I pranced around like a kid at Christmas the rest of the morning as I got ready. Waking up early had given me ample opportunity to flit around like some silly little fairytale princess in love. I even had time to eat a good breakfast and make sure my phone was charged before bolting out the door.

  The sun shone brightly as I walked to work with a little extra pep in my step, and all I could think about was how perfect Kevin was. Things were turning around for me again.

  CHAPTER 21

  The second Saturday in April came out of nowhere. Actually, that wasn’t true—I’d had it circled on my work calendar ever since Julianne approached me about the write up. Professionally, it was a huge deal. I’d already practiced writing a rough outline and some catchy opening sentences. I wanted to prove to Julianne that I could write more than standard wedding announcements.

  I made my way to the church around eleven that morning. The ceremony wasn’t until one, but I was told Ayla and her ladies-in-waiting needed plenty of time to get ready. They were going to take pictures before the ceremony, too.

  The cathedral was stunning. I’d never set foot in a church so beautiful and ornate before. It was fit for royalty, and I made sure to note that on my notepad. Ayla was pretty much royalty, at least in Harrisville.

  An insane amount of white floral arrangements rested on each and every table around the church entryway. An unmarked guestbook laid wide open with a fancy, silver pen, and a large silver box with Tiffany blue velvet lining sat patiently waiting to be filled with cards and small gifts.

  “Rashida!” I felt a hand on my back. I spun around to face Julianne. “Here’s your press pass, but I want you to know you’re still a guest. Don’t be shy. You can mingle and celebrate, but also remember that you’re here for a reason.”

  “Noted,” I said with a smile.

  “Ayla’s getting ready in there,” she said as she pointed to a room just off to the side of the congregation hall. “And Antoine’s getting ready back there.”

  She pointed to a room behind the pulpit.

  “Why don’t you go interview them? I’ll send in the photographer as soon as he arrives,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “You pay people perfectly good money and they can’t even arrive on time.”

  She seemed like a typical, frazzled mother-of-the-bride. It was rare for Julianne to ever lose her cool. I could only hope that Ayla wasn’t taking a page out of Julianne’s book that day. Ayla always seemed calm and quiet, void of personality, but still. I couldn’t imagine how bad she’d be as a bridezilla.

  I knocked on the door to the room Ayla was in and waited for one of her royal minions to let me in. A chubby girl with curled, dark hair and way too much makeup opened the door.

  I waived my press pass in her face.

  “I’m here to interview Ayla,” I told her.

  “Is that Rashida?” I heard Ayla’s voice call out. “Tell her to come in!”

  I walked in to see Ayla perched on a stool in front of a mirror. Her hairstylist was frantically working every last dark strand of hers into its own perfect place. The girl had so much hair.

  Seeing Ayla sitting there, stunningly beautiful, took my breath away. As much as I hated to admit it, she was gorgeous. She was a stunner. She was the prettiest bride I’d ever seen. On the inside, I steamed with jealousy, but on the outside, I remembered that I had Kevin and we were both moving on.

  I stepped towards her, admiring the piece of art her hair was becoming. The bodice of her dress was tight and cinched in her already tiny waist. The bottom half of her dress squeezed in around her hips and then flared out around the bottom, covered in a million delicate, ruffled white feathers. Only she could pull something like that off.

  “You look beautiful, Ayla,” I said with a smile. “Happy wedding day.”

  She looked up at me and batted her fake-eyelash covered eyes. At first I thought she was being facetious or dramatic, but then I realized she was batting away tears. I wanted to ask if they were tears of joy or tears of sadness, but it wouldn’t have been appropriate.

  “Thanks for coming today,” she said. “I want this article to be perfect, and Julianne said you were the one to write it.”

  I suddenly wondered if it was her idea or Julianne’s idea to feature the wedding in the Lifestyle weekly.

  “No problem,” I said. “So, I have a list of questions here that I’m going to ask you both. And I’ll pepper your answers in throughout the article. It should all make sense once I’m done with it.”

  “Okay,” she said as she gazed at her reflection in the mirror. She hadn’t taken her eyes off herself more than a couple times since I’d arrived.

  “When did you first know you wanted to marry Antoine?” I read off the first question.

  She didn’t answer right away. In fact, she had to think about it. She pursed her full lips and stared down at the bottom of her dress hanging just above the floor.

  “Um,” she stammered, buying time. “I guess from the beginning I knew he was a special guy. There was just something different about him.”

  I waited for her to elaborate, but that was it.

  AntoineI read off the second question. “How would you define the love between you and Sam?” A few days ago, asking her those questions would have killed me, but after my night with Kevin, the questions were cathartic in a roundabout way.

  “Oh, geez,” she said as she huffed. “That’s a tough one.”

  There really was nothing between those ears of her, I determined. She wasn’t even good at bullshitting. How did she ever make it thr
ough college?

  “I would say it’s strong,” she said. “Solid. Dependable.”

  Was she talking about her relationship or a pickup truck?

  I read the third question.

  “Where do you see yourself five years from now?”

  She stared off to the side, then looked down. “With a couple kids. A nice house in the suburbs. The All American Dream, I guess.”

  “What do you love most about Antoine?” I asked, pen in hand. She wasn’t giving me much to work with.