Page 24 of Broken Clocks
Two weeks later, she had a miscarriage from stress.
He came to my door crying.
“The baby’s gone.”
I blocked the doorway with my body as the rain poured behind him.
“The Lord gives and the Lord takes away,” I said coldly. “Maybe your baby and mine can keep each other company in heaven.”
He stumbled back like I’d slapped him.
“That’s fucked up,” he growled.
“No more fucked up than what y’all did to me,” I snapped. “Maybe it’s karma.”
Then I slammed the door in his face.
Sinica called over and over after that.
I ignored her.
When she showed up, I put on a show.
Cried real tears, made her believe I cared.
I should’ve won a damn Oscar.
Life went downhill for Donte after that.
He got passed over for partner at his firm.
His mom got sick.
She used her diagnosis to guilt him into proposing to Sinica.
When he told me, I threw a lamp at his head.
“Get the fuck out. Don’t come back. I’m done. I’m moving on to a man who I ain’t gotta share.”
His fingers clamped around my jaw, just enough to hurt.
He got all up in my face.
“Don’t make me show you how serious I am about you being my life,” he said, voice low, vibrating with heat.
I yanked away so fast his grip slipped off my skin.
My mouth twisted.
“You don’t want to talk regret with me, Donte. I’ll hurt your fucking feelings with all the regrets you left me with.”
His expression flickered—hurt, anger, something else.
Then he shrugged, careless and cold-like.
He was an asshole. It just hurt less now.
“Okay. Whatever.” He scoffed. “Just know I only ever loved you. That shit gotta count for something.”
