Page 1 of Call Me Mrs. Taylor

1

Raya

Meghan Markle is the dumbest bitch on two legs.

I used to love her. Like,reallylove her. I mean, what’s not to love? She’s gorgeous, she seems intelligent, she pisses off British people, and most importantly, she runs her husband with a subtle and gentle hand like only a true boss bitch can. She had my admiration from the jump.

That all changed when the truth came out. Netflix told the whole boring story. They met online like regular people. OnSnapchat, of all things.

It felt like I was betrayed.

All this time, I thought she was a huntress. A woman who sees what she wants and takes it. Because that’s what real bad bitches do. I really thought she saw him, and wanted him, andstaked her claim,and for me, that sounded like the baddest of bad bitch energy. Women are supposed to go after what we want. It’s girl code, or whatever these white women be out here saying on TikTok.

Look at Kate. NowKateis my kinda bitch. Well,was. I’m not sure how she’s doing these days, but I sincerely hope she’s okay. She’s a princess…but only because she chased it.

Ace is late.

I check my phone. 1:12 pm. He was supposed to be here at one.

He’s usually so timely.

The waiter passes my table, side-eyeing my empty glass like he’s trying to decide if I’m the type of customer who’s worth refilling. Heaving a heavy sigh, I spear my fork through the lone crab cake on my plate. This is one of those bougie places with thirty dollar appetizers I can’t afford, and this thing has the gall to be smaller than a hockey puck.

I’m in the ritzy part of downtown Decatur, where all the artsy, craftsy, young, new money Caucasians move, dragging their coffee shops and specialty stores with them. The restaurants still use paper menus, and people roll up in Porsches to sip cocktails on the patio with their perfectly groomed golden retrievers. Ace loves these types of places. Him and all his fancy engineer friends.

I haven’t met them yet, but that will come in time, and anyway, they aren’t any of my concern. Ace is my concern.

Just the thought of him makes me warm all over, but especially between my thighs.

I hope he shows up soon. I can’t keep doing these mid-day lunches now that school’s starting back soon. Instead of spending time with him, I’ll be spending that time in the lounge with the other teachers trading stories and whining about the low pay and high stress.

Working around kids has made me determined not to ever have any of my own.

There he is.

I smile, sitting up straighter as he and his coworkers round the corner. Bae looks so handsome in that dark grey suit. White shirt. Blue and grey paisley tie. Bold, yet classic.

Ace stays fresh. It’s one of the things I love about him.

His caramel brown skin glistens in the afternoon sun. He’s what we call 90s fine, a true throwback all the way down to the low cut Caesar and perfect goatee framing his sexy lips.

He’s the tallest out of the three of them, his stride more confident and self-assured. A black man’s swagger, for sure, but it’s so much more than that. Ace exudes power and authority. They must feel it, because they trail meekly behind him with weak smiles on their faces, glancing at him every few seconds like puppies waiting for their alpha’s approval.

That’s right, bitches. Bow down.

My eyes linger on him as he chooses a table about ten feet away from me. I take a sip of my water, forcing myself to appear casual, like I’m not freaking out right now, my heart doing somersaults in my chest. He hasn’t noticed me yet, but it’s okay. I’m always patient when it comes to him.

One of his coworkers checks out the waitress, who’s cute, admittedly. A redhead in a high neck blouse that’s doing nothing to hide the double-Ds on her chest. Bitch.

But Ace is busy studying his menu. I love the way his brows knit together when he’s concentrating. He does that a lot. Last week at the steakhouse. A couple of weeks ago at the bar. All the time, really.

I can’t hear what they’re saying, but I’m trying my best to read lips. It’s harder than I thought, so I give up pretty quick. But it just feels like part of our game. What makes usus. Ace will let me in one day—all the way in—but for now, I’m content to do this. It’s how I show him how serious I am about us.

One day, he’ll appreciate it.

2

Ace

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