Page 56 of Devanté
“A deal?” My brows furled together. “This isn’t business, Devin. I’m making decisions based on my heart. Not my head,” I said, turning to look at him with my hand pressed to my chest.
“Well, what does your head say?” He asked, standing to his feet. His energy spiraled out from him all wild and flippant.
“You don’t want to know,” I scoffed, standing to my feet as well. The top of my head came to Devin’s nose but it didn’t stop me from staring him in the eye.
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” His voice thundered in my ears.
“It means you don’t want to know what’s going on in my head. Right now, your best bet is to appeal to my heart and even that is getting shaky.”
“What are you saying, Blake? Because I know you’re not serious about breaking up with me.” His anger morphed into deceptive laughter. The corners of his lips curled into a devious smile.
“We need to go our separate ways. I don’t think we’re going to make four weeks. I shouldn’t feel so heavy coming home to my own house. I should feel relieved. Even after having a great night with an old friend, I still felt swamped pulling into the driveway. That’s not how things should be.”
Devin’s cold brown eyes raked over my body. He didn’t have the glowing reverence in his stare that Devanté had when he looked at me. His eyes were pools of stinging judgment. I swallowed the old insecurities I used to carry with me and told them they had no place here. Not anymore.
Still…my stomach trembled.
“Well, I can’t help you with feeling heavy. You’re fat, Blake. That’s how fat people feel.” He had the fucking nerve to laugh in my face after that vitriol spewed from his mouth. He was officially a stranger now. God, I understood Tamia’s songStranger In My Houseso much better now that I was an adult.
“Okay, Devin. Since we’re being childish, I’m game. Get the fuck out of my house.”
“Damn, babe. Calm down. I was just playing. You can’t take a joke when you know that’s what I do? It’s a defense mechanism. I joke around with Kenzie like that all the time and she doesn’t get hurt. She fires back.”
“Sounds like you two are a great match. Go sleep in her bed.” I shoved him toward the bedroom door despite his pleading.
“You’re still hung up on that shit? I never pegged you for the jealous type.”
“I’m not jealous. I’m done.” Flashes of memory rained through my mind. Devanté on his knees in front of me, his hungry and aggressive tongue exploring my pussy like he’d just found treasure. I missed it already.
“You’re not done, Blake. We’re doing this four-weeks shit whether you want to or not. I’ve been living here for months. I get mail here.” My throat tightened at his words. I already knew where he was pushing this.
“Devin, just go. You’re free, do whatever the fuck you want. We’re done.”
“We’re not done. You can’t put me out because I live here. I don’t recall getting a formal notice to move out, so we’re stuck together, baby. Maybe you’ll come to your fucking senses and stop trying to act like you have any other options besides me.” His eyes were dark and cruel but my skin was too thick for him to penetrate deep enough to make me cry.
Vibrate with anger? Yes.
Cry? No. Never.
I was a boss in my personal life and my career. I knew how to navigate assholes who thought they were getting over on me.
I didn’t respond to Devin’s sophomoric swipe at me. I met his childish tongue with a smile as I shoved him out of my bedroom. I locked the door behind him and fell to the bed. I laid flat on my back in the middle of the plush mattress and stared at my side of the bed.
I’d invited this man into my home to live with me. I thought we loved each other and could put down roots, eventually move into our own house. I felt so fucking stupid. I hated feeling stupid. I went to college. I hung my degrees on the walls of my private office. I took pride in being a badass marketing genius and here I was getting called fat by my ex-boyfriend who refused to leave my house.
How the hell did I make such a stupid decision?
I rubbed my forehead with the heel of my hand and turned over on my side. I didn’t want to face Devin’s side of the bed because the sheets still held his scent. I grabbed my pillow, fully intending to lay on it but something made me stare at it instead. Something was…off. My eyes adjusted to the white pillowcase, tuning into the fibers until I found exactly what was glaring at me.
Short, wavy, pixie-purple hair peppered my pillowcase.
I didn’t throw the pillow across the room and storm downstairs to confront Devin. I had no room to do that because I just fucked Devanté all over his hotel suite and there wasn’t an ounce of remorse or regret in my body. I tossed the pillow on the floor, got out of bed, stripped the sheets and blankets.
I needed some intense healing and maybe I needed to be a little petty. Sometimes, petty was a form of self-care and I stood by that shit.
I took the bundle of sheets, pillowcases, and the comforter downstairs to where I knew Devin was. Sitting on the couch in the den, playing video games like the fuck-boy he was.
He lifted his eyes when I came into the room just in time to see a ball full of linens flying toward him. The pile buried him instantly.
