Page 6 of Broken Clocks
“I’m allowed to reach for who calls to me,” he said, so soft I almost didn’t hear him over the music.
I blinked. “Excuse me?”
He shrugged, but his eyes never left mine. “Us meeting here was meant to be. But I can tell by the look on your face you aren’t ready for me. My baby momma wore that same look when she was loving a man who didn’t deserve her. I see the same heartbreak in your eyes. Same weight written all over your pretty face.”
I opened my mouth, ready to curse him smooth out, because why the fuck was he prophesying my life like he knew me?
He held up a hand—
“That man who fucked over my baby momma happens to be my best friend. So I seen it from both sides. I learned from his mistakes, so I know how to help you when the time comes,” he added, voice low, calm. “So I’m going to let you deal with whatever issues you got, because I won’t be helpful—not at this point, when you look fed up with everybody.”
I blinked hard, looking up at him.
Who was this man?
I let my eyes slowly rake over his face—his sharp jawline, his sad-ass eyes that looked like they’d seen too much.
He did the same in return.
His eyes on me made my entire body tingle.
He stepped back, giving me space.
“I’ll let you go now. I know we’ll meet again, beautiful. And you’re gonna be ready for me then.”
He gave me one last look, like he was memorizing me—not the girl I was now, but the woman he swore I’d become. Then he turned and walked off, slow and unbothered, slipping through the crowd.
I stood there for a second, heart kicking like it was trying to outrun itself. I hated that he had read me right. Hated that for the first time in weeks, I wasn’t thinking about the man who’d been breaking my back and spirit.
Back at his table, he waved—and then two women waved too.
I didn’t know whether to wave back or walk over and ask what the hell was wrong with him. Who told him he could see me?
I didn’t do either.
I just exhaled, gave my head a shake, then turned and headed for the exit while ordering an Uber.
The Uber’s backseat smelled like cheap air freshener and other people’s regrets. I pressed my forehead to the window, watching the club lights blur into streaks of color—like my life, smudged at the edges.
Chapter four- Eshe
I couldn’t breathe.
Couldn’t walk either—not properly. My legs felt like they were dragging cinder blocks, and it had nothing to do with the tight-ass heels Sinica picked or the four blunts I’d smoked earlier that day. My chest ached. My throat burned. And I was damn near being dragged down a white silk-covered aisle while Anthony Hamilton crooned in the background.
I can’t stay away from you too long...
I hated how accurate the lyrics were.
I wanted to blame the weed. Or the liquor from the night before. But the truth was uglier. I was walking into a moment I shouldn’t be a part of.
My flight instincts had kicked in strong. Every step closer to the altar had me fighting not to scream or sprint out of the church like I had the devil on my back—and maybe I did.
Speaking of the devil—he was standing at the altar.
Looking at me.
My stomach clenched, and I felt the betrayal of my own body as my eyes tried to meet his. I cut my gaze to the floor instead. Red carpet. Ugly.
