Page 57

“Augusta Mae, remind me to stop by the house to get my luggage so I can pack…” her words trailed off as she stared at me sitting at the kitchen table with a bowl piled high with oats.

Augusta was so busy at the stove she didn’t notice the eye roll and annoyance that graced my wife’s face when she looked at me. “I won’t… you girls all deserve this trip. I will make sure Elijah gets to school.”

I raised my brow. “Going on a trip, my love?”

She ignored me and went to grab her avocado toast and tumbler that she always used. Between coffee, water, or soda, that damn tumbler saw everything. She was never without it, and as she snatched her purse up and swung it onto her arm, I scooted out from the table.

“Elijah, eat a bit quicker so we can get going this morning.” She nuzzled his hair and kissed his cheeks. “You slept well?”

It was something she always checked with him, and I loved that shit. “Yep.”

“Good.”

“I’m driving him to school this morning.”

Elijah scarfed down the rest of his breakfast and jumped up. “Yes!”

“Perfect. You can meet me over by the doctor’s office when you’re done,” she went to snatch her keys up, and I took them before she grabbed them.

“Stop playing with me, Blair.”

She stared into my eyes and held her hand out. “Give me my keys. You can take your son to school without me. I have other errands to run anyway.”

I held the keys, and she walked around the table and snatched mine. “Anjo!” I called behind her, and she continued toward the door. “Elijah, I love you more than you know… have a great day at school because the world needs more smart Black boys, right?”

“Yes, mama… I love you more than you know.” He returned their little mantra that she said to him before he got out the car to go to school.

She blew him a kiss and then headed out the door.

“Oh, you’ve done it…” Augusta Mae whistled, and cleaned up the stove from making breakfast this morning.

“Grab your stuff, okay?”

Elijah put his bowl into the sink and ran down the hall to grab his stuff. “How do I fix it?” I wasn’t above asking my elders for help to fix the damage I had done.

Her ring didn’t feel good sitting in my pocket while she walked around unclaimed. Anjo belonged to me, she was my wife, and she was waddling around here like she wasn’t.

“You don’t need me to tell you how to fix it, Quaseem… you already know how to get your wife back.” She rubbed my back and then went down the hallway.

“Sim, Augusta… damn,” I muttered.

She was forever fucking up my name and I never corrected her.

As I drove Elijah to school, we listened to Travis Scott. Apparently, CJ had been putting him onto music, and this was his favorite artist right now. After one of his favorite songs ended, he turned it down and I could feel his eyes on the side of my face.

“What up, Son-Son?”

“Are you and mom divorcing? CJ said that was what happened when his parents divorced.” The question was so innocent and apparently it was what happened to be on his mind.

Blair had left only a week ago, and I know because she rescheduled our original appointment because she didn’t want to see me.

When he mentioned Ella and Capone, I almost laughed because they were never married.

Ella would have sold her left eyeball to be Capone’s wife, but they were never married.

Shit, they had been broken up for some time, only fucking around and living on false promises before Erin came into the picture.

“Married couples do divorce, Elijah. That’s not the case with me and your mother… we’re going through a rough patch right now. I hurt her.”

“With your hands?” He asked, confused.

“Never. You never put your hands on a woman, and I would never put my hands on her. I hurt her with my actions. I didn’t stand on the promises and vows I made to her, and that’s why you are staying at Augusta’s house.”

I could see his mind working as he processed what I had said. “Are we going to live in Ashbourne forever?”

“Not forever. We’re going to move into a new house, big for you and your sister… big pool in the backyard for you to swim.”

He smiled. “And you and mom in the same house?”

“In the same house,” I assured him.

When he was satisfied with my answer, he turned his music back up and continued to zone out the rest of the ride.

After I dropped Elijah to school, I pulled my phone out and tracked my wife. Thankfully, her ankles weren’t swollen and she still had it on. She was at a coffee shop, a place she had been frequenting for a little minute now.

Every time I checked her location, she was there. The time wasn’t always consistent, but the location was. What the fuck was so special about this coffee shop that had her there often? Blair liked to make her own coffee at home, and it was rare she got coffee from a local shop.

She always went on about how she could control the sugar content better at home. I sped around the circular driveway of the private school and headed toward where she was. We had an hour to kill before our appointment.

It took me fifteen minutes to make it into town, and I cruised, looking for my car. When I saw it parked, I pulled up a few spots down and got out. Ashbourne was a nice city and wasn’t like the small town I had envisioned when Capone was trying to sell it to me.

There was a city, suburbs, and hoods. It was smaller than New York City, but I would compare it to the size of Atlanta, if I had to pick. It had the city, and then the suburbs. Bet there were people ready to scream out which parts weren't Ashbourne like Atlanta people.

When I made it to the coffee shop, I pushed through the door, and the women all turned to look at me. Anjo looked up and her eyes widened when she noticed me standing there.

“I’m sorry, ladies… give me a second,” she stood up, and exited the table that had women with coffee and pastries sitting around it.

I allowed her little hand to push me out the door, taking any physical contact with her. Now, I knew how she must have felt. Being shut out and begging to be let back in wasn’t fucking fun. I hated myself for even doing that shit to my wife in the first place.

Forcing her to become this person she never wanted to be with me.

“Why are you here?” she asked calmly, almost too damn calm.

Her arms were folded and rested on her stomach. “I wanna talk to you, Anjo.”

“Now you want to talk? When it’s convenient for you… you wanna talk?”

Shit.

She had me there.

All she had been asking was to talk, and I kept telling her that I was good. Now that I wanted to talk, it was on my terms, which wasn’t fair to her.

“I fucked up, Blair… I shouldn’t have?—”

She unfolded her fucking arms and balled my lips up. “Save your sorry because I don’t want to hear it. You follow me here and then expect me to put my shit on hold to cater to you. I’m done catering to you, Quasim. Done chasing you and forcing you to see what I keep telling you.”

“What the fuck you doing here anyway, and why they looking at me like I’m a fucking monster… the fuck you in there telling those bitches, Anjo.”

She shoved me away from the window. “If you don’t…” She looked behind her. “Knock it off, Quasim!”

“Tell me why I gotta follow behind my wife and find out she having secret meetings at a coffee shop… the fuck going on?”

“You didn’t fucking care!” she screamed. “You’ve been in your own head for months, as if nothing else exists. The only reason you care now is because I did something you never thought I would do…. Leave.” Her voice cracked.

I touched her stomach, something she would never deny me touching. “I’m sorry, Anjo… I don’t have any excuse… I fucked up.”

She wiped the tears before they could fall and stepped back. “It’s a therapy group for women that survived domestic violence. One of our group members died this morning by the hands of her abuser, and we were having coffee in her honor this morning.”

“Fuck.”

She sighed a shaky sigh. “Yeah.”

“Come here, my love.” She allowed me to hug and kiss her head, as I felt her take a breath, after learning some news like that. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

She removed herself from my arms. “Thanks.”

“I’ll cook tonight… we can watch your favorite movie, and I’ll rub your feet, and you can tell me about this support group.”

I felt like the biggest fucking cornball not knowing my wife was in a fucking support group. How the fuck did I miss that? “While I appreciate the hug, I am not coming home. It doesn’t get to be that easy for you…. I’m not that easy.”

“You can’t go out the country… you too far along.” I called behind her.

“Israel, go to hell… I spoke with the doctor, and she said it was perfectly safe, especially since I’m flying private.”

“Thrive there, baby… thrive there.”

She looked at me and shook her head. “You shouldn’t when you have a family… I’ll pray for you.”

“The fuck? Anjo, don’t try and throw that pra…” my words trailed when she closed the door behind her, and went back inside.

I waited around for our doctor appointment and even beat her there. She came ten minutes late and our doctor in Ashbourne was all chummy, meanwhile she didn’t have three words to give me. Where was the props for the father being present and on time.

Mrs. Late waddler got all the props when she came up in here and gave me a dirty look. I tried to help her up on the table, and she refused my help. The doctors did her scans and everything about my angel was perfect.

As dark as shit had been for me, she was the light I was waiting for.

I couldn’t wait to see her come into this world and hold her.

Promise to always protect her and never let her down.

The doctor stuck around for an extra ten minutes to talk about Anjo’s upcoming trip.

She made her promise she would get lots of rest and come home if she wasn’t feeling good.

She leaned up with her pants still below her stomach. I reached and palmed her stomach, kissing it and laying my head on it. “Daddy misses you.”

“Daddy is full of shit,” she muttered.