Page 22 of What the Leos Burned (BLP Signs of Love #6)

End Of The Fire

It had been a few days since the fight with Zay, and Love hadn’t stepped foot back at the studio since.

She left everything in Tara’s capable hands.

Tara was efficient, organized, and relentless when she needed to be.

Love trusted her with it all without hesitation.

When her phone buzzed with questions from Malcolm or the stylists she’d grown familiar with, she let it go to voicemail.

She’d spent her days drifting from room to room, sweeping, rearranging throw pillows, wiping already-clean countertops.

The hardwood floors gleamed from how many times she’d mopped them.

She’d even found herself sitting cross-legged in the hallway one night with a can of paint, touching up the baseboards just to quiet her mind.

Why do you care so much? she asked herself, over and over, while brushing smooth strokes along the trim.

Why does he still matter after all this time?

Because, it had never been just teenage love. It was all the dreams she built on his promises, the part of her that never really stopped building, even when he vanished.

The next thing she knew, she found herself standing at her bathroom’s sink, staring at her reflection in the mirror with tears that gathered but never fell.

“Ma?”

She jumped and turned to her right. Yana stood in the doorway with her arms folded and a worry line creasing her forehead.

“You good? You been cleaning the whole house for the past few days.”

Love quickly wiped the tears that pooled in her eyes and stood up straight. “I’m fine, baby. Just restless, I guess.”

Yana cocked her head to one side, not impressed. She didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t push it further either.

“Okay,” she replied. “Just checking on you.”

She smiled, then shook her head and placed her earbuds back in. She turned and walked away from the bathroom’s doorframe.

Love smiled and trotted behind her, turning the light off as she exited the space.

“What you thinking about eating for lunch?” she asked her daughter, who was already down the hallway and couldn’t hear her past the music in her ears. She was just about to yell louder after her when a knock sounded at the door.

Love watched Yana step into her bedroom and shut the door behind her.

She turned the opposite way, down the stairs, and walked to the front door.

She saw a figure of a woman who she instantly recognized through the distorted glass of her front door and opened it.

Tara breezed in with her arms full. She held a large, iced coffee that balanced precariously on a bouquet of gas station flowers and a snack box tied with a bow.

“Can you grab this for me?” she asked Love, who had already extended her arms to help.

“Wow.” Tara whistled, looking around at the spotless living room as she placed the iced coffee in Love’s hand. “Let me find out you deep cleaned your feelings again. Should I be worried?”

Love’s laugh was sharp but real. “Maybe.”

“Mm-hmm. Well, I brought you some goodies. Caffeine, snacks, and a few books to balance out your actual drama.” Tara handed over the flowers and box like she bestowed royal gifts.

Love chuckled and motioned to follow her to the kitchen. They entered the room and sat on the bar chairs at the island counter. Tara leaned forward and grinned from ear to ear.

“So—quick update,” she began, resting her hands under her chin. “Deuce is still being Deuce. Joking, clowning, keeping people from mutiny. Malcolm’s annoyed but not mad. He said you earned that outburst, so don’t worry about coming in yet.”

Love let out a long, shaky breath. She was still embarrassed that the entire crew witnessed that lover’s quarrel.

She didn’t feel too good knowing that a private part of her past was broadcast in front of strangers, although it would premiere in front of the entire world sooner than she initially believed she was ready for.

“Good, that’s . . . great.” She hesitated, pausing between words. “Anything . . . um, else?”

Tara flashed a knowing smile before answering Love’s unspoken question. “Zay flew back to L.A. a couple days ago. He hasn’t been back on set either.”

“Oh?” Love tried to hide how her chest squeezed before quickly shooting back, “I mean . . . I ain’t worried about him.”

“Yeah. I know,” Tara responded, still smiling. She was fully aware that Zay had, in fact, been the worry in Love’s thoughts.

Love’s brows furrowed as she sat puzzled. Is he done with the movie now? Is he pissed?

Tara read her mind and responded, as if on cue. “Kam says he’s basically living in the studio back in Cali. He’s still on for the project. So no meltdown necessary.”

She sat still as she watched the relief loosen in Love’s shoulders. There was a moment of silence between the two before Love replied.

“Thank you, Tara. For everything.”

Tara let out a breath, leaned over, and pulled her into a quick hug. “You got this, Love. Even when you swear you don’t. I’m always happy to help.”

“I truly appreciate you.” Love responded with tears in her eyes that threatened to spill.

“Do you, now?” she responded and pulled back from the hug. She looked Love in the eyes and smiled. “Just how much? I been meaning to talk to you about a raise . . .”

They both fell out from laughter, easing the moment. Before Love could answer, she heard the front door swing open without a knock. They both perked up and stared at the kitchen’s opening as the quick and heavy footsteps grew louder.

Juwon strode in, looking crisp from work. He wore a collared shirt that was open at the neck and an expensive watch that glinted in the lighting. The tension in his jaw and the vein that throbbed near his temple said this wasn’t going to be a good visit.

“Tara.” His voice echoed through the room. “I need to speak to my wife. Alone.”

Tara froze, glanced at Love who looked just as shocked as she did, then back at him.

“Oh, um, yeah. Okay.” She turned and patted Love’s shoulder then grabbed her purse from the island and turned on her heels. His eyes remained on Love, not even glancing Tara’s way as she walked past him to head out. “Text me. For more snacks, to talk, or . . . bail money, maybe? Whatever you need.”

Love didn’t respond to her. Her eyes were glued to Juwon’s with an angry expression that let Tara know to get out of there quickly. The next events wouldn’t be pretty.

When the door shut behind her, the lock’s soft click seemed to cut the thickness in the silence that followed.

“What the hell is your problem?” Love shot out.

Juwon stepped closer with his phone outstretched.

On the screen was a clip from UrbanDrip Daily, a celeb gossip blog that she’d read a few stories from before.

Her eyes squinted as she watched a video that looped.

It was her, laughing with Zay at the café.

Her eyes grew wide when she caught the headline that flashed at the top: “Old Flame or New Script? Zay Woods Spotted With Married Author Love T.—Sources Say It Wasn’t Just ‘Work’. ”

“Explain this shit,” Juwon growled, voice low but coiled with rage.

Her chest tightened, but she forced herself to stand her ground. She stood up straight and looked him in his eyes. “It’s nothing. We’re working together. That’s it?—”

“Oh, working?” His laugh was sharp. “Right. So, you two just happen to be giggling and leaning into each other for work? That’s what you expect me to believe?”

She folded her arms. “Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying. Believe whatever you want. You don’t get to question me?—”

“I don’t?” He stepped in closer, his voice sharp enough to slice the air between them.

“I’ve been here, Love. I’ve been here every damn day while he was somewhere overseas, living his dream, forgetting you fuckin’ existed!

I’m the one who stepped up. I’m the one who raised that little girl upstairs like she was my own! ”

Love’s laugh cracked out, bitter and exhausted all at once. “You got some fuckin’ nerve! Don’t you stand here and throw that shit in my face. Don’t sit there actin’ holy when you went and did the exact same thing to me!”

“Oh, so now we comparing?—”

“Yes, we are!” she shouted. “You think you’re so much better? You think you’re some hero? You were so quick to jump in and be daddy of the year, but then you turned around and slept with your fucking assistant! So how are you any different from him, huh?”

He pointed at her with eyes that burned. “I didn’t run! I stayed. When he left you knocked up and heartbroken in a college dorm, I was there. When you were scared out of your mind about failing finals, who helped you study? Who held your hand at the doctors’ appointments?”

“I already thanked you for that!” Love cried, her voice booming through the room.

“God knows I have thanked you for that my whole damn life, but you broke that up! You fucked up the trust when you went and betrayed me too! So, like I said, don’t stand here questioning me about shit I do—acting like you’re better than him! ”

Juwon exhaled loud, ugly, and hurt, all at once. “So what is this shit then? He back in town, and suddenly, you forgetting who been feeding you, paying the mortgage, loving on your daughter— my daughter?—”

“I told your dumb ass already nothing is going on!” Love yelled, her throat raw now.

“You think I want that back? You think I want to go back to crying myself to sleep wondering where he is? No! We work together, that’s it.

You should be worrying about the baby you made behind my back before you worry about a business meeting I had to have?—”

“You don’t get to preach to me about babies when the only reason he working with you playing hero now is because you let him!” Juwon fired back. “What you gonna do, Love? Gonna let him slide back into your bed too, huh? Gonna let him slide into her life like he some father of the year?”

Her hands were shaking. She stepped forward until they were nose to nose. “Watch your fucking mouth. I would never let him take what you built with her. Never. But you are not my husband anymore. And you know damn well why. So stop playing victim.”

“Oh, so I’m the villain now?”

“Nigga, you made your own bed!” she screamed. “You don’t get to break up this family and then turn around and demand loyalty?—”

The air cracked with the force of their voices. Neither noticed the small gasp at the edge of the hallway until a soft, trembling voice broke through them.

“Mom?”

They both turned with their eyes wide, breathing hard.

Yana stood there barefoot with her earbuds in her hands and a puzzled expression across her face. Her eyes bounced between her mother’s tear-streaked face and Juwon’s clenched fists.

“Dad, . . . what are you guys saying?” she whispered. “Is that true?”

Silence thundered louder than any scream. Love’s lips parted, but no words came out. Juwon dropped his head. His chest rose and fell slowly as he placed both hands on his forehead. Neither of them responded, both too stunned, embarrassed and not able to formulate the right words to begin.

Yana’s chin quivered. “So . . . he’s my real dad? The guy mom is in the blogs with? Westside Zay?”

“Baby—” Love started. She took a step forward.

Yana shook her head and took a step back. Tears spilled freely down her cheeks as she quietly spoke. “You lied. You both lied to me.”

Then, she turned and bolted up the stairs. Her sobs echoed off the walls before the bedroom door slammed so hard the picture frames rattled.

Love covered her mouth, and a choked sob escaped behind her palm. Juwon stood there, shoulders slumped, all his righteous anger burned to ashes.

They both just stood in that broken kitchen as two grown-ups who’d built too many lies on top of each other to keep pretending anything was whole.

Love quickly turned to head toward the stairs, but Juwon grabbed her arm. She jerked away.

“I have to?—”

“She won’t open it. You know it. Let her breathe.” His voice was flat now, calmer.

They both paced the room for a few minutes, thinking and grunting out loud occasionally before they both slumped at the kitchen island again, shoulders sagging and years of pretending burning away like old wallpaper.

“I didn’t mean for her to find out like this,” Juwon murmured, staring at his hands. “Damn, I fucked up, Love.”

“Neither did I.” She rubbed her temples, fighting the pounding behind her eyes. “I have to tell her everything. She deserves that much.”

“ We have to tell her everything, together,” he corrected. He sighed and dropped his shoulders. “She’s still my daughter, you know. I don’t care what blood says.”

“I know.” Her voice cracked. “I’d never take that away from you, Juwon.”

They sat like that a little longer. They were two people who had failed each other in every way except the one that mattered most: loving that girl upstairs.

“I want that divorce,” she finally said quietly.

He nodded, no fight left. “Yeah. You got it. Just . . . please don’t shut me out. Not with her.”

“I’d never do that to either of you.”

They both stood slowly. No apologies this time. Just tired acceptance.

Juwon stared into Love’s eyes as he walked close to her.

When he reached her, he grabbed her shoulders with one hand on each and kissed her on her forehead.

Then, he turned and left the kitchen, his footsteps soft and faded as he reached the front door.

She stood where he’d left her and listened to the lock on the door click behind him.

She sighed and trotted toward the stairs, placing one hand on the railing and staring at the top.

When she finally climbed the stairs and down the hallway, she paused outside Yana’s door. She rested her palm on the wood, took a deep breath, then knocked. There was no answer.

“Yana,” she said softly. “I’m sorry. I’ll give you some space. We can talk tomorrow.”

“Go away!” Yana called out, her voice cracking between sobs.

Love sighed but didn’t respond. She left Yana’s door and walked into her bedroom. She slipped into her pajamas, crawled into her bed, and lay on her back, staring at the ceiling—wide awake in a house too clean and too quiet to hide from the truth anymore.

Sleep didn’t come easy, but after a few hours of thinking, tossing, and turning, she finally fell asleep.