Page 90 of Crossing Lines

Hurt falls over his face like a curtain as his shoulders droop. “You have feelings for him?”

His visible pain makes it so hard, but I have to be honest. “Yes. I’m sorry, Jamir. But we should—”

“Don’t say it!” he yells. “You’re not leaving me to go fuck that trash.”

“Jamir…” Tears spill down my cheeks. “We’re not working. We argue more than anything. I’m not happy. Let’s end it.”

A frightening look darkens his gaze, and I flinch as he steps closer. “I’m not letting you go.”

“I’m already gone,” I murmur. “You never realized.”

“I can fix it,” he insists, touching my face. “We can move on from this if you never see him again. So tell me you still love me, and you’ll stop seeing him.”

Staggering back from his reach, I say softly, “I can’t tell you that. My heart wants Kross.”

His face twists in agony. “Five years… this is what you do to me?” As a tear falls, he storms out of the apartment and slams the door.

I drop down on the sofa and bury my face in my hands.

THIRTY-FOUR

Thoughts of Davia kept me up all night. As it reaches her lunchtime, I call her to see how she’s doing.

“Hi,” she answers softly, sounding tired.

“Hey, baby girl. What’s up?”

She exhales before responding. “I admitted to Jamir that I want you. He’s so heartbroken.”

“I’m sorry for… Shit, I can’t be sorry for wanting you, Davi. It’s how my heart feels.”

“I know because I feel the same.”

“Listen, why don’t you come by my place after work? I’ll cook dinner and bake peanut butter cookies.”

She chuckles. “That does sound good.”

“Mmhm. Come see me later. I’ll help you relax.”

“Okay. Au revoir,” she adds sweetly.

“Au revoir, ma belle.”

I get a bunch of shit done to kill time, from laundry to cleaning the condo. After a quick workout, I look over my finances and cook dinner.

Davia arrives minutes after I finish baking the cookies. She parks in my visitors’ slot, and I open the door and wait for herto appear in the hallway. She smiles as she approaches, leaning into my open arms.

I kiss her cheek and ask, “How was your day?”

“Long.”

Towing her inside, I take her jacket and hang it in the coat closet. “Want red wine with dinner? I bought the kind you like.”

“Thank you. What did you cook?”

“Jerk jackfruit with carrots, butter beans, and rice.”

“Wow,” she gushes, sitting at the table. “Sounds good.”

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